Cough

Was it the 

Intoxication

Carried by the winds

From the west.

Or sparks set off 

In the insides that

Churned in protest. 

No one knows.

When it took over

Minds,

Fiddled with hearts,

To overpower

Human will..

Everyone who had

Forgotten to

Speak.

Coughed.

Cough, Cough.

A terrific cough.

They coughed

While they stood.

Coughed while

They sat.

They woke up

Coughing and

Fell down battered

By the cough.

The cough gulped

The laugh to

Cough more.

Pulled up the 

Intestine to

Amplify its choke.

It slapped awake

The ones asleep

To force spit their 

Hearts out.

Kicked down the

Haughty heads,

To compell a

Grounded walk.

Some toiled,

Built, sang, danced 

And toned their 

Cough in shape

To become poets.

Others blamed,

Grappled and grudged.

And strangled

Themselves to 

Self pity and hate.

Few, who became 

Good coughers.

Preached the art 

Of coughing.

To become 

Self proclaimed

Babas.

And the ones 

Who mastered

To cough out loud.

Made assurances

To censure it.

And won elections..

PS- translation of my Kannada poem