They think that I punish myself

By not doing things which I can do,

By all means and with eyes closed.

But if I started doing them,

They would choke and so would I.

I conclude that they are blinded by smog.

Dirty smog which they created.

Deathly smog which they treat

As if it is disinfectant or cologne.

I conclude that their cerebrospinal fluid is frozen.

While glaciers are melting;

While the globe is ever-warming

Up to eager and excited diseases.

But this seems quite far-fetched.

So, I conclude that they choose not to see;

What can be clearly seen.

Whether there is smog or not;

Or whether it is smog itself.

 

I shake myself till there’s a storm in my cerebrospinal fluid.

I chide myself for yet another overdose of overthinking

And pull out well-worn clothes out of my cupboard;

Which has hardly seen anything new in the past few years.

I am getting ready for a Big Day;

Obviously as hot and oppressive as other days.

That’s how days are these days anyways.

I step out in the sun without sunscreen.

I walk to the bus-stop and wait

While the thoughts which had been waiting on me,

Come washing upon my conscience.

Someone had asked me:

Do you think you are punishing yourself?

No. I’m doing what all other creatures on the planet do.

But most people think you are a maniac.

More correctly, a maverick and a minimalist.

Do you care about what they think?

No. I care for Bigger Things.

 

And I board the bus to the place

Where the Big Day was about to commence.

My NGO was going to get a sponsor;

Here I am about to meet her.

I try to empty out my brain of all apprehensions.

Like the weather reporter who emptied out stress,

By announcing heavy rain on a blazing April Fool’s Day.

 

I get down and wait for the lady.

She comes in a luxury car that runs on fossil fuel.

Maybe blind in one eye, I think.

All her nails are painted in different colours.

Indoor air pollution, I think.

She is drenched in deodorant.

Nearly outdoor air pollution, I think.

She smiles a plastic smile at me;

Her make-up is melting in the heat.

“Oh, we must step into the mall, dear!

I really need some air-conditioning before we talk business.”

It is non-profit, not business, I reply.

That plastic smile again.

Would microbes ever be able to decompose her?

 

Her true colours were brighter than her nail-polish.

I make up my mind to tell her that I didn’t need her help.

For consumerism-sponsored minimalism

Is like chloroform -

A dreamy death.

“Oh no, you have misunderstood me, dear.

I am great at waste management.” said she.

Said she:

Dropping a plastic water bottle

Into the green-coloured dustbin labelled,

BIO-DEGRADABLE.