His Plot, The Stage and Me!

Somebody came to kill me
He wanted to help me understand this life
By killing me, with his bare hands
With a knife, sharpened for the purpose
With few silent strokes, pulling my hair
Cutting my limbs, toes, fingers, ears
One by one, dissecting the chest,
Plucking the heart and lugging the intestines
So that those pieces can be packed in a box
Like a package for best kept secrets
As a gift to the life, the life himself!

He said, no use of coffins
They are so expensive, they are
Rather weird too, to fill pieces in a coffin
It’s odd, it will look funny
So, better a box, cheaper and handy
There you need only a pair of hands, to hold it
And carry it wherever you want
‘Why disturb others for your death’
And you can even place it next to you, like a pot
Wherever you wish to lay sit from shrines to morgue
And those pieces inside, pieces of your body, people will think it
For a gift pack, or even the holy water, and there
Half the purpose is served for being borne, another
Half was consumed when you are death, for the purpose.

So no worries, while you proudly reside in and
Have a better understanding of the life,
Inside the box, within the rim of a box
The world outside, will admire you, they will
Wait for a glimpse of the box that contains you
Though in pieces, and they will think they are blessed
You know, this world is made of confusion,
That’s what I want you to feel, for the life
In the midst of it, you are the answer and them
The scraps from your shadow,
No need for the cross, no need for the inferno
The box is enough; a box is enough for a modern man like you.

Then I said, if that’s all you wish me to experience
Why the box, and what’s need to be killed, or
To be a dead man in pieces;
I can experience that feeling of living inside the box
By simply living in my thatched hut!
He countered it, and said
You have limbs, and your hairs flaunt a living, and
You may even stretch your leg and
Open your mouth, in a yawn and
Someday you will think that
Someday, like these birds,
Can fly in the sky, with joy and freedom
That I don’t want
That’s what I don’t want from you
For you, a little confusion is enough,
Even after you are dead!

I didn’t know, he had a larger scheme for me
He wanted me, my body, my being to rest in peace, and
He knew, there aren’t any better place, proposition
Other than being stuff a box, though in pieces
To attain the nirvana, of what we could call peace or
Understanding life!

Box is good, much better than my thatched hut, and
Even better than what we called motherland,
They have these sulking prerogatives,
Like obsession and responsibilities
But once you are packed inside this simple box,
There will be no obligations, no worries
Of what’s going there, outside its rim
Thus you will know what is life,
The bliss of ignorance!

He said,
You don’t!