





I am fairly good, says everyone, okay in the main.
The only flaw I have, it seems, is lying now and then.
On the train to Ghatshila, pitter patter clatter,
I am talking to my ma and pa, nonstop is my chatter.
Suddenly, what’s this I see? All the passing trees
Are moving like dancers, whirling in the breeze!
I cry out, “Ma, look at that! A dancing drama skit!”
But Ma rebukes, “Your flippancy is breaking all limits.”
You know the zoo, I am sure. When uncle took me there
He showed me the lion’s mane, the tresses of his hair.
A few days later, in my room, feeling quite faint,
Suddenly I see the mane in the peeling paint.
In class next day, I tell Koyel, “I kid you not, I swear!
In my room, a lion lives with a fluffy head of hair.”
Hearing that, Miss rebukes me. “Never again,” she cries,
“I want to hear you tell such tales, such nonsensical lies.”
Since that time I have taken care. I control what I say.
But what to do! I was so surprised just the other day –
My eyes were drawn - up and out - to the sky of blue.
I saw Tagore in an Autumn cloud. I do not lie, it’s true!