His duty in the army,
Dad bought me a
Chair when I was five.
Shortly, when the
Village-landlord visited
Our dilapidated house.
Which reeked of
Cattle dung and urine-
He couldn't stand
The sight of a
Bright blue chair.
How could a mere
Labourer's house
Have a chair?
And when there's a
Chair, how could he
Sit on the floor with
All that ego up his ass?
He commanded my
Grandpa to serve his
Ego with a kid's chair.
My poor chair with
Small arms and legs.
Accommodating his
Big-big-butts without
Breaking-
Trying to hold entire
Family's respect-
Like it was my dad's
Part-persona fighting
The divide here.
My chair did a good
Job in straightening
Our spines for next
Two decades-
Before it was passed
On to my niece.
Who now climbs on it
To reach the books
We never had.