My Dadu Poem 2

THE BOOK RACKS

I wandered aimlessly in Dadu’s room

Almost guilty

As if I would be tempted to steal

Some of his wisdom

If I stayed there long enough.

Dadu grunted a warning

If I ever touched a thing,

May it be a blade or a case

For his spectacles.

I shied away.

I sighed and sighed

At the enormity

Of the book racks

And prayed to god that I may rise

To their stature.

Dadu knew me instinctively.

I can say so confidently

Because he was wary.

He possessed all the books

And would never part with them.

I wondered in those days

If a book ever deserved to be reread

What it would contain.

I had books that entered me

And got transformed.

Dadu, on the contrary,

Entered the books with a pencil

As if he was the guru

Who would mark the mistakes

The book made.

I read a book through

And put it aside as done.

I read a book only to pass through

A transitional period

Ready to take the new next day.

Dadu’s life was restful.

He held a book dear

And opened its pages every day

For a new find;

I was always on the go.

I grew up in a library

Where one can borrow knowledge,

If it is possible to borrow

Such a thing,

Or at least the lessons from it.