In a Boimela

In a boi-mela

One book enthusiast meets another, a poet

The poet lives far away, in a remote village

Poverty writ large on his face

He goes to all the village-melas, all through the year

There he recites his poems

A jewel this man was not, but had the beauty of conviction

And plenty of dreams

Not once during recitations, wavered self-belief of this man

Nor did he ever sell his poverty, and asked for sympathy

Despite the odds

This man loved being a poet

A true poet this man was