Lie would win over truth
He was
Shabbily dressed,
Gloom
On his unshaven face
Pain in the eyes
He entered my chamber
Politely asked for a
Ten-rupee note
To buy medicine for his
Ailing wife
Without thinking much
I gave the note to him
After few days
He came back again
With the same story
Another note
Was given to him
By his third visit
I came to know
He was an imposter
Concocting false stories
To collect money
I yelled at him
Asked him to go away
Refused to give
Any money
He smiled and said
Now you know the truth
However,
I need the money
You have to give it to me
Other wise
I shall go on the road
Shout on the top of
My voice
You call yourself rich
But you are the
Biggest miser
On the earth
Who does not have?
Even a Ten-rupee note
To help an ailing lady
I am a popper
Nobody knows me
However, you shall
Lose your prestige
In my heart, I cursed him
My prestige was on stake
Lie would win over truth
In sheer disgust I gave
[...] Read more
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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