Desires

Words fished out unknown desires from the depths of his mind when Smith weaved words aloud into a funny poem for Sarah.

Their kids jumped in, singing & banging...
Sarah came and sat beside Sarah.
“Recite some poetry,” she said.
“What?” Smith asked laughingly. “It’s a struggle making ends meet. Some memories, some hopes, some desires are all that remains. What else is there to recount?”
“Then narrate them,” said Sarah. “I feel like hearing something from you.”
“I’m hungry,” said Smith. “You’re wanting me to yak. Get me some food!”
“Come on,” Sarah insisted stubbornly. “Then I’ll feed you scrumptious food!”
Smith laughed at the bribe. Some thoughts metamorphosed into words and came up to the lips. He spoke:
(Note: Poetry translation follows below. For the original Hindi poetry, please read the Hindi version of this story on TaleTown)

O Fortune, patch up the torn sack with velvet
Give water to the thirsty, feed roti to the hungry

Sarah burst out into laughter. Seeing their parents laugh, both kids came running too. Looking at them, Smith said spontaneously:

These little troublemakers become big movers, shakers
Let Majnu get Laila, and Juliet get going with Romeo

Sarah smiled. Smith’s desires began to get wings. He couldn’t stop himself and added:

Vivid intoxication spread in the veins, the world get funny
When a spell lights up in the eyes, let it rain a little

“If wishes were horses,” Sarah teased him, “every beggar would ride.”
“Horsey!” Josh insisted, on hearing the word ‘horse’. He had been reminded of the animal.
Smith mounted him up on his shoulders, and moved the poem ahead:

Let the horse become an Audi, make the monkey drunk
Let blind turn one-eyed, when the dumb sing this song

“Dumb will sing a song, mute will sing a song…” Moses sensed the beat and clapped to the rhythm.
“Now we eat along, now we eat along…” Smith hollered too, in Isha’s direction.
"Not yet," scolded Sarah. "Recite some more!"

Making us busk for free, what a miser donor you are?
We’re off to bed hungry if you won’t give us food now

“Food now, food now …” Moses danced around in circles as he sang.
“Now I’m going to eat, or else I’ll bleat …” Smith was singing loudly too.
“Eat? Food?” Little Josh caught on to the important words.
He clenched his fists tight and began drumming on his father’s head too. Seeing the mood of the boys, Sarah laughed and stood up.
“Patience,” she reproached Smith, as she retreated towards the kitchen. “You were born in India!”
With Josh on his shoulder, Smith followed her into the kitchen. Now he’d gotten into the mood, she was deserting the field. But what could stop a rising tide?
Moses too was banging his steel plate rhythmically with a spoon.
It was the right season, the perfect opportunity, the right tradition. Smith went with the flow, weaving words aloud into a poem, but the words fished out unknown desires from the depths of his mind: