Thursday, March 11, 2010

The Dictator

The Dictator

(Note: 'He' in the poem also includes 'She')


"I ran, water dripping from my face,

I had red eyes,
I saw the door, it was ajar,
I peeped inside.
The Eyes found me,
The Eyes beckoned me in.
I went in, obediently,
Sat in the chair.
Did I see a halo around His head?
No, It was just the play of morning light.

He, said, I heard.

He questioned, I couldn't answer.
He questioned again, I blabbered.
He shouted, I couldn't shout back.
He had his Weapon.
A Weapon which, He said,
Could destroy my future.
There were others as well,
Like me, sitting there,
As if in a trance.


Someone else came in,

With an 'I-shouldn't-be-here-but-no-choice' kind of

Third-worldish expression.

'You are late,' the Eyes said.
'Come in.'
The new comer was also forced in.

We, a bunch of scapegoats,
Sitting there,
We had no choice, for
He had the Weapon.

He had no charm,

He couldn't terrorise us,
He turns out to be boring at times,

Still we were glued there, for
We feared the weapon.

He had power over us,

He could blackmail us,

He could be called a Dictator,
'Attendance' being His greatest Weapon.
We all feared this Weapon.
Yes, He was our Professor!"

(Dedicated to all bored students who are in short of attendance.)


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