There was nothing wrong with you Mr. Gopala Krishna
That I could place my finger upon
You looked good, defied age
With the Godrej introduced dye
You covered your greys well
Walked through the lanes of the Western Ghats
Breathed in fresh air
With an alertness that could put the black panther to shame

Watching the Gowli women was a treat
Their nine yards above the knees, the way they swayed so gently
Their strong legs, cracked soles plastered with mud
Humming Marathi songs of Vithoba, ferrying their commodities
In deep forests where they lived, where they perished

You were a Chief Engineer, a B. Tech. from Bangalore
Overlooking the construction of the dam
Relocated with your family, your wife so gorgeous, so filthy rich I heard
So educated and yet so jobless
Yours was a picture perfect advertisement eligible family
But you were looking for something else, I guess

The times when I visited your house to collect those storybooks
You made me sit on your lap
Slowly shifting me to your center, I squirmed even though I was merely eight
Or when you wrote anonymous love letters to the women in the colony
You thought nobody knew
Maybe you forgot that the population was just a thousand
And when you tried your maid
While your wife was expecting another baby
She had to go through the abortion
In the Civil Hospital, the cheapest available option
She even vacated the place forever
The reminder of you is still the way you held hands
Of my seniors, gently massaging their backs
Sharing a joke or two
Guffawing that silenced the insecurities
Your look so lechery that it oozed your cum

The last I heard, you settled in Mysuru
Your kids now settled in other countries
And now, I get a friend request on Facebook
Mr. Gopala Krishna
‘Retired’ says your current status