Genre: philosophy, relationships, rhyme, metaphor and personification.
THE FARTING ELEPHANT
by Trusha Navalkar
Shimmering sequins and clicking heels,
Chattering galore as I step into the room.
Ear-thumping music and disco lights
Conceal all the gloom and doom,
As folks whisper and glances steal.
Some scrunch up their noses, what’s the stench?
As if somebody in their direction did just fart
Like a well-aimed dart.
Why, it’s that sad looking elephant on the corner bench.
The same distressed white elephant
Who made a drugged confession to me once,
To feeling betrayed and wronged
And the secret to his weighing tonnes
On a similarly crowded and gaudy night,
The only one sharing my plight,
Playing hide and seek with me in the disco lights.
Who else feels bad for white elephants,
The genial, gentle giants?
Who EVERYBODY wants to ignore,
That cathartic whore.
I said I felt him
‘I mean I’m doing public service!
God’s invisible apprentice.
Representing bitter truths,
Like the agony of fading youth,
Memories that’d rather be forgotten
With unpleasant emotions sodden,
The trials and tribulations,
And unspoken regrets,
All the wrongdoings,
Uncomfortable natural instincts,
Souls trapped in their secret labyrinths,
I give him a bow
‘That’s a lot of baggage to carry
To secrecy being married.
How do you keep it all in?
Don’t you find tempting?’
‘Aw, I’m BURSTING you see!
I mean, why do you think I’m an elephant,
Instead of a toad or a honey bee?
The proportions of the implications
Are apparently huge you see.’
‘I’m sorry I don’t mean to brag,
But I just don’t understand,
The instinct to ignore and ban
The expression of the deepest and the darkest
And of all that is honest.
Do they not understand,
Is just liberation disguised in drag?
I can save you
A lot of money honey
And the discomfort of gut-purging therapy.
Instead of trying to save face,
Come give me a warm embrace;
We’ll revel in our shared secrets and mistakes,
And in the making of a new future partake.
One where there’ll be more tolerance,
And room for repentance,
Where forgiveness rather than punishment will be the law
Accepting that humans are after all only given to flaws.
Let’s clear the air of all misunderstandings
And let flow in real understanding
For LISTENING makes for better communication,
So life can again be a celebration,
Devoid of frantic scrambling for secrecy
And the anxious hiding from scrutiny.
Letting out an anguished sigh
‘I am feeding a futile cornucopia
With the fruits of an elusive utopia.
Wasn’t this stuff supposed to make me high?’
Taking another whiff
He divulged with a sniff
‘To secrecy marry
Is a huge weight to carry.
I long, someday, to be thin,
Thin as a fabric
That passes through the head of a pin.’
I wondered, did we just turn an elephant anorexic?
Tonight to the anorexic goal no more close,
I see him exhale another god-awful fart,
I pity over him with a crinkled-up nose,
Assaulted by the aim of the dart.
Though I know I shall not
Divulge the details of our conversation
To another person,
The proportions of its implications
Being an unworthy burden.
He gave me an understanding sigh,
Tonight now no more high,
Painting an enviable picture placid.
He turned to give me a wink,
Of recognition I think,
In a night laced with acid.
About the Poet:
I am a 21 year old media student from India. A voracious information seeker, I, not unlike others my age, spend unhealthy amounts of time on the internet. I simply eat, breathe, sleep and live Communication with a capital C and like to dabble in all kinds of media. Writing is a hobby I picked up early when I realised one doesn’t necessarily need a mystery to craft a story, a la Enid Blyton.
I am more structure oriented and value the craft of writing as much as the art, if not more. Having worked as a copywriter, I believe in the ability of writing in manipulating and selling a concept, idea or emotion. I am intrigued by the process of making a piece of communication as effective as it can be, and endeavour to work towards that end. I am a big fan of metaphors and they form an integral part of my writing. I use metaphors as hooks and as a tool to make an individual experience relatable to everyone.
I have previously been published in The Bombay Review Anthology.
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