Skip to main content

Does anyone remember my ATM pin?

Version I

I have forgotten my ATM pin.
Can anyone help?

It is not my wife's birthday,
or my best friend's
or my mother's
or any of my children's.
I'm no good at remembering birthdays.

It is not the date of our first kiss
or our first fight
or our first anything
or our anniversary even.
I'm no good at such dates either.

No, it's not my other ATM Pin
Or my bank account number
Or email password
Or even my voter I-card number.
I was never good at such things, either.

Once it was the date of the Panipat battle
Once it was the loan instalment amount
Both an attempt at quirky creativity
But they were both changed
And forgotten rather very quickly.

I am still bereft of my ATM pin.
Can anyone help?

Version II

I have forgotten my ATM pin.
Can anyone help?

It is not my wife's birthday,
or her best friend's birthday,
or her best friend's sister's,
or of my boss's for that matter.
I'm no good at birthdays.

No, it's not the worth of my stocks
when the Sensex touched 20,000
or the traumatic price
at which I finally sold them.
I was never good at such things, either.

Once it was the date of my hernia operation
and later the hospital bill amount
- both an attempt at quirky creativity.
But they were both changed
And forgotten rather very quickly.

Is it the date my daughter was born?
Or the day I betted on the dark horse
and it won the sweepstakes?
Or is it my dog's vaccination date?
I haven't the foggiest idea.

I am still bereft of my ATM pin.
Can anyone help?

Comments

ys said…
Hahaha - lovely both :)

Popular posts from this blog

She's complicated

She's complicated. She'll charm you with charts, statistics and that corporate smile. But look into those eyes, they're fiercely bohemian. She's complicated. Her chatterings seem to resonate with happy sounds, but listen with the other ear, to an unhidden lament. She's complicated. Her silences agonise, her voice echoes in her absence. And yet there is a mild dread as her name flashes on the ringing phone. She's complicated. Sometimes she's a poetess, shallow, romantic, trying to hide a sardonic, world-weary wit. She's complicated. She could be a spiteful Fury, wrath unabated, but that's just to hide the lamb-hugging girl within. She's complicated. She's an enchantress, a fool, a tyrant, a nurse, an imp, a priestess, but she's generally a good friend. She's complicated. Published in Making Waves - A Poetry Anthology , ed. Pam & Bill Swyers; Swyers Publishing 2011. ISBN: 978-0-9843113-6-1.

To the piece of orange peel in my bag on the trip to Janjira,

You were the only one to stay by my side when all others Had left me to travel that final stretch homeward alone And while I had to throw you away after two days Because of the stench that made me put the bag in the wash And earn mother's censure onto which she piled older grievances You did help relive some happy memories of the sea breeze And the boatmen's chatter and the old bronze cannons’ roar And cope with those whose IQ is less than yours And taught me that I was mortal in that ride across the creek And that like you I too shall one day be stripped of my essence And confined to the dustbin of humanity I miss you, orange peel Published in Lakdi Ka Pul - II The Poetry Bridge 2017 — an international anthology by Twin City Poetry Club

Nellie, 1983

Very often the sun rises in warm, golden rays on opening buds, birdsong and dewdrops, and the stench of stale death. Very often the sun rises Upon mutilated men - blood drying over their eyes and gore-caked machetes rusting in their abdomens. Very often the sun rises over hyaenas fretting over the carrion going waste - they can eat no more, nor can the vultures. Very often the sun rises on a day already defeated - shrieking, screeching, screaming, demanding that it go back for there was peace in the night. Published in Tranquil Muse 2018.