48 Hours To Live

48 hours to live, that’s it.
        (He, God Dr Sahib, said.)
Cried and begged, I did.
        (Wasted moments,
                  He shrugged.)


For a moment I thought –
        (Reflection does wonders, they say;
         Not mine, an old fat mug face I see) –
48 hours ain’t too short,
                        I do realize.


I felt alive, so-dead-alive.
        Similes, metaphors et al
                 Marched past –
        But there’s no time
                 For prose or verse
        In this last role;
A few snaps,
That’s all.


I can’t show you all.
        (O don’t you wish, you cheeky buggers.)


In a train, by the window;
        Crowded, touched, territory invaded;
            Sweaty armpits, lush greenery,
        Same ol’ sand bank, a river preserved pickled,
Strange, the village kids don’t wave no more.
        Opposite, a dirty oldie, another hirsute brute,
            Two loud couples hormones and all.
        Next to me, a young mother, her mother,
            Two more bottoms filling every space.
        She turns to me, behind her shawl, feeding
            Her baby, that gurgling sucking brat,
        With my arm shielding her, my eyes without,
Hiding the pain within, no time for my own,
        She smiled, when she left, the young mom;
            With the uncaring brat bawling still.


Upgraded, for a change, to a seven-star hotel,
        Far separated, antiseptic, sterile,
            by the pool,
               in the spa,
                  on white soft bed,
               I crushed the side
            next to me,
Alone and crushed.


It wasn’t all dismal.
        Just censored
        By your govt.
With few hours to live
        You don’t give a hoot
        For what’s right & wrong.


Now, on the flight
        (still in style)
back to the grave.
        Stuck-ups mostly
        Maybe shy;
           A Brit lady next to me
           Scratching her leg,
Reading lonely planet
Without a word;


If we did,
Maybe, it would be like old days –
great hosts and lucky guests.


With just an hour left that’s not a worry,
I can’t waste anymore on you.


What shall I do?
     For fun,
             Shall I bungee-jump
without the rope?