Poessay: Upset Stomach: Discordance, Disconnect and Dichotomy

August 09, 2010

in that room full of people, and sounds of mirth and laughter, blending with clinking  glasses and wayward nibbling at finger food, when the current died the stillness could be cut with stares (and forks)

the crows cawed, mynas cooed, distant traffic roared roared in the enforced calm

even the heartbeats (if you read and believe this) could be heard

the host left the room (the hostess'  smiled a frozen smile but did not budge)

the platoon of servants scurried to find the man - the man responsible to switch on the generator, i could feel the sweat form rivulets and start descending down the nape

after an eternity, oh,  in reality about  a minute or two, the generator roared, and in seconds our postulations on floods, visits abroad, target killing, designer fashion resumed

the generator's thud a distant murmur now

welcome to the first world dwellers in the third world


it is eleven pm on a mini bus that seats 22, but was carrying over forty sweating bodies inside

on the roof, and clinging to the sides another 30 going home

i wondered if they were wondering -

if their families had something to eat and drink 
if they had a little water today...
if it is quiet, with no killings...
if they would make it safely...
to trudge back to work the next day

they have no time to worry about electricity

i throw up 
(at the discordance, the disconnect and the dichotomy)
in this absurdistan
and the host kindly inquired
if my stomach was upset
love people who are in awe of words. words are the sole arbiter and the final survivor. desicritic editor, slave and slave-driver.
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