R-4 Again, The Room

This new room—

the same R4,

of a posh colony

that if you know, any closely,

is somewhat like what Ruskin Bond describes

in his old books.

Small,

dingy

and with just the bare necessities of survival.

Such rooms, you’d see in

old movies of the 80s,

where the villains make a hideout

or you’d have read about them

in books describing struggling artists

passing through their miserable

pitiful youth.

Such rooms, you’d find them

equipped with a bed,

that’s shaky.

an old table that has missing drawers

and a cupboard that has no lock.

The windows wouldn’t shut off completely,

and the attached toilet

for which you’ve been charged extra

would have no hand jet.

So you’d be left with using the common bathroom and

Sleeping with your head tucked inside

the blanket and the fan dispersing the

lingering mosquitoes.

Once in a while, you might,

also spot a dancing centipede

in the washroom.

But no roaches or lizards.

The common species just don't exist

in places like these.

Such rooms, of which

your mother would disgust, and,

the girlfriend loathe,

you wonder if

you really need to hear them?

But, to think of a change,

you’re held back with the freedom of expression

and acts here.

Every night the guy next door

empties and stacks three beer cans,

just besides the gallery

and the maid dutifully takes them away in

one two or three days.

It's like an open inn,

where you're free to walk in with anyone

anytime,

have late night parties, and,

hoot like noisy generators

and nobody would mind.

Oh! and the best part,

that makes you do not mind anything

is the generous landlady,

a rich woman with no marriages and kids,

just a lone wanderer, sailing across seas and

flying across countries,

and just not bothered to ask you for any rent.

It’s been two months, and I am just piling up my debt.

While she remains busy facing the north wind

on the deck of a ship

or peeking through

the window of an airplane to the floating clouds.

I here

smile to these blood stains on her wall,

of all the mosquitoes that I’ve mercilessly slaughtered.