A Story. A Poem by Rana Pratap Nandi

Once a Lord went with a bowl
Asked for money, but received a scowl.
Tried and tried, again and again
Managed to grind a fat bargain.
A balanced deal was designed and done
The Lords smacked their lips and fawned.
Though much will redirect to the scowl
Enough will still be left in the bowl.
“To form a trainer core
Let’s spend a few crore”.
Scent of blood sends predators on prowl
The story is one of blood and gore
The very material of great folklore.
Bulls and hounds ripped in a bloody brawl
While dingoes look on, yelp and growl.
Paid monotonous babbling maniacs
And snored the most confirmed insomniacs.
All nursed from the same shore,
Lord to serf:”Must come and train
And sow the pennies in the drain.”
Serf to Lord, “My Lord said pennies but there are crores!”
“You fool! Forget ponies and crows” the Lord roared.
“My lord thou art so right”
Said the serf, with a face so bright.
The light of knowledge illuminating his face
He is ready to go out, enlighten his race.

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Bio: My name is Rana Pratap Nandi. I live in Shillong, India and teach literature in a residential school. Several of my articles and poems have been published in different newspapers, literary supplements, literary e-magazines and an anthology of multi-lingual poetry. I love reading poetry and exploring and experimenting with folk culture. The North Eastern part of India, where I have spent most of my life is blessed with a wide variety of fascinating cultures still waiting to be meaningfully explored and interpreted.

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http://www.innerchildpress.com/robin-ouzman-hislop.All the Babble of the Souk