Thursday, June 30, 2005

I have come full circle
And I don’t see colour now
I look out through the window
It is a colourless world.

Cars pass by, labourers work
Sarees or shirts, either check or plain
Bricks or cement or iron rods
All there, but there is no colour.

The same bricks or the same shirts
When come in a picture or a painting
Acquire tantalizing hues
Stirring feelings sensational.

The tyranny of TVisuals
The chicanery of Sunday mags
The depravity of fashion scene
We are all colour-victims.


I was so fond of sweets
And now it’s the opposite
Why does the taste change
And how does it happen?

If taste-buds are the same
And dishes the same old
So, what was favourite
Why fails to appetise?

What we hear see or smell
Or touch does not change
Over a period of time
Why the taste keeps varying?

In view of its value
For upkeep of the body
Perhaps the food affair
Is little complicated.

The mind must foreplay
The eyes must agree
And the mouth consent
For full enjoyment.

Or taste remains the same
And we as persons change
Our likings and leanings
Get distilled with age?


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