Cadbury should change it’s rallying cry
To rich boy loves broke girl because
We don’t buy chocolates as food in India,
If it’s not cotton candy,
Bought at the village fair. Hence,
A fifteen-year-old boy gifted me a
Sweet fruit and nut,
Gawky and awkward with his just broken
Voice singing in his Adam’s apple,
With legs too long for
Dark blue school pants bought two years ago
And I devastated him with a glare;
My dark, scabbed knees, skinny ankles
Knew more than plaiting my unruly hair,
As my mother had taught morality
With “there’s no free meal”, plus
I wasn’t ready to give my love yet,
At such meager a cost to a stranger.
I then hastily deleted his “I love you” from
My desktop as my parents had my
Facebook pass-code and I still couldn’t,
Purge him from my mind.
So, I put on an orange shrug
Cycled to the town nearby and,
Gaped at the naked urchins,
Watching Him tighten his grip on the
Handle of the bicycle before
Getting us Popsicle that slobbered
our Conversation the whole way back,
But it didn’t matter.
He wanted to be a scientist and
I had my paintings
That pitched in when my
College degree will fail Cause honestly,
Painters don’t deserve those.
He got me a Cadbury when
We must have met last as
I don’t recall very vividly the Date
But his geeky stare and grubby
Fingers on my back are all that,
Occupy my memory.
He wasn’t a rich boy and neither did I knew the meaning of broke but
He got me a Cadbury as per the custom,
Deemed fit and I had accompanied
Him with an orange shrug for Popsicles.
Bhawna is a developer with a myriad of interests like genuine literature and rainbows. She likes to paint and lives on sunlight that sparkles off of dust particles.