The little Child
He was all of his five years
inquisitive like a cat
Why crow is black
when dove is white
Why can’t he fly
when birds fly
Fly is what he wanted
flapping hands
went round and round
He was here he was there
he was everywhere
Balagopal of the yore
Sundays were his special day
Shaktiman came to his drawing room
little fellow’s world changed
became part of the episode
Through the TV screen
reality merged with unreality
Somewhere in that little brain
Shaktiman real and powerful
That Sunday evening
he went to the terrace
four floors above the ground
In time and space for a few seconds
reality merged with unreality again
He saw Shaktiman by his side
flapped his wings and took the leap
A thud and inert lay Balgopal of the yore
Oh good lord
why you play this game
muddle up that little brain…..
K.V.Radhakrishnan
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