Sitting and going,
The wife and children,
So many in number.
And again, he is going to marry for the second time to have a tryst with destiny
As for the second innings,
The poor but conservative fellow,
Readying himself to write,
My experiments with wives.
But the gentleman knows not about the storm gathering to come upon heavily,
It’s just getting cloudy, darkening and the cranes returning hastily,
Let them assemble and take to and join the women’s conference,
Talking about keeping of two to three wives
Without giving anything for pleasure sake.
One will beat him with the broomstick, another with the broken pitcher,
Both of them will quarrel
And will beat collectively sometimes,
Such a scene is not too far from,
The unheard portion of the drama of life.
If this be not, for some days he will stay in one wife’s house,
For some days in the other’s
As thus will keep rotating
All through his life and days,
The old lover of many wives.
A father of so many, so many peculiar names, he has just fathered
By saying that God will feed them,
But He too has come forward
In extending a helping hand to him
Rather than advising to work and labour themselves.
One will be a garage mechanic while another will be a carpenter,
One will be a mason while another will be a labourer,
Everything is but clear,
His plan for living and the scheme for things, the world-view of his.
One will be a rickshaw-puller while another will be a trolley-puller,
One will be a tyre-man repairing it,
My thing is this that do you any work whatever you are well up in
But explode not a bomb for the crows will go cawing for food.

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