A story in verse by Dr L.Prakash


The photograph in the news-paper


The youth stared at the photo, in the newspaper with him
It was indeed a pretty girl, though a little slim and thin.

He squinted his eyes, and scratched his stubble
He had a sudden premonition, of impending trouble

The girl in the picture, was simply divine
Bewitching and captivating, to make you pine

Oh look at her eyes, so large and bewitching
My rapid pulse thumps and heart starts twitching

Look at her black hair, cascading like silk
And her fair complexion, shaming butter and milk

There is a tad bit of diffidence, in her pose
But from this angle, seductive is her nose

Look at her cheeks, look at her dimple, and look at her smile
To catch just one glimpse, I would surely run a mile

Looking at her picture, I view life in a different light
Believe it or not, it is love at first sight

Who is she? Why is her photo here?
Let me look into the papers and make it clear

So that is the story, a very strange affair
All her jewellery stolen, and cupboards laid bare

Entered the police, and searched thoroughly for a clue
Anxious to catch the thief, and beat him black and blue

The journalists had arrived, and troubled her a lot
She was not able to give them, the information they sought

Lady is burgled, the headlines thus screamed
And in this theft, he found what he had dreamed

The pretty girl, her cute face, pink cheeks, and a smile perfect
On his mind, heart and soul, had a devastating effect

From this moment on, there is no meaning for my life
I won’t have a moment of peace, until she becomes my wife

I might have to search, for weeks and days
To find out the place, where she stays

But from this task, I shall not rest
Until I have succeeded, in my quest

He searched high, he searched low, he searched east and west
Till he explored every nook and corner, never did he rest

Form the newspaper office, with great trouble, he did get her address
But before that, in the subeditors hand, a few currency notes he had to press

The folded address slip in his pocket, close to his heart
Towards her place of residence, he made a quick start

He was nervous, he was anxious, and his tongue went dry
But no matter how difficult it was, he would give it his best try

He wore the best clothes and appeared real smart
With a bouquet of flowers in his hand, to her house he did start.
As he got closer, his anxiety increased
What he was doing, was stupid indeed

He was chasing a mirage, he was chasing an illusion
Running after her like this, was indeed a stupid mission

She might be unwilling, married, betrothed or engaged
Smashing all his dreams and the plans he had made

But then you must not, discount another possibility
She might agree to be my mate, for eternity

With such mixed thoughts, he reached the end of the street
And as he got close to her house, saw the parakeet

Welcome welcome the parrot, said jumping in its cage
The book of love in his heart, fluttered its middle page

He hesitated, steadied his breath, and punched the door bell
Someone was coming slowly, the sounds of footsteps did tell

And then the door opened, and standing behind it
Was an elderly lady, smiling a bit

This one was old enough, to be her mother or nanny
Add a few more grey hairs; she could even be the granny

She offered him a seat, and the teacups misted vapour
With a shy smile on his lips, he opened the newspaper

Where is this maiden, so divine and sweet
It is this goddess, that I desire to meet

Checks dimpled, eyes twinkled, and she gave out a soft laugh
Finish your tea first, I don’t want you splutter and cough

Many years ago, when I was looking for husband dear
Certain prenuptial formalities, were made absolutely dear

To get myself photographed, to a studio I had to go
And send it to the boy, for him to say yes or no

And then, when the thieves broke into my house
Journalists descended like locusts and louse

To go with the story, they wanted a photo of me
My present old and shriveled form, I did not want the world to see

I thought awhile, and made up my mind at last
I riffled through the album, and pulled out a picture from the past

The pretty girl in the photo, the one you want to see
Is a relic from the past, and none else but me.


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