The first green bench is occupied by a man swiveling his neck like a table fan. I am on Green bench 2, worn out and faded  in color by several park bums. The man who sat meditating in his closed eyes on the next bench now gets up to go.

There is a watery breeze as though rain is at hand . The pipal leaves are falling yellow at my feet.

We saw this  excruciating family drama playing out in yesterday’s afternoon movie. Everyone pretends he is some one else and in the confusion their combined mask falls off. The mask falls with such thud. The old man wears even an older mask. Since he is not already dead he pretends to be dead sometimes. His tongue pretends dead.

What do you want writ on your stone,  asks a pretender.

 Here lies a pretender who never believed he was someone else.

How about some boy-girl stuff ? You may ask. Actually ,we pretend we are not  boy-boy stuff. Back home , we set the Thames aflame with our boy friends. Please do not eavesdrop on our laptops,we tell our moms who want boys rosily paired with girls. We do pretend.

Dad pretends he is not having the  other woman in the dark side of  his life. For reality he hits steel on the road . He pretends no more .


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