Pillow of Winds

From 'The Third eYe' archives:

Doggedly, sluggishly he pulled himself up from the covers;
The sun shone through brilliantly through the curtains,
Made not a difference to his wretched self.
The luxuriance of his bedroom mocked him,
The myriad wires in his head were tangled and short-circuited.

The plush sofas, oriental rugs, and rich tapestry,
They all reeked of travesty.

He stepped out into the world, ‘Good Morning, Master’,
That was his personal driver.
‘Not today, Jacques’. He breezed through the gate,
Jacques shrugged his shoulders, irate.

Days, or had it been weeks since he had slept?
His throat clogged up and he almost wept.
CEO of Hardwired was his status and position in society,
Revered was he, that was crowd mentality.
There were many who would kill to have what he had,
Had he known, he would have surrendered them all, glad
To be relieved of all the mindless burden.

There on the yonder, he spied a street urchin,
Not more than eight, clearly not well fed,
Trying vainly to salvage a square meal from the filthy trash bin.
‘Please give me some too’, his four year old sister said.
‘Patience thangi’, said he. ‘You are my responsibility.’
And she clung to his leg faithfully.

An old man on the street could barely walk,
A blind man, most likely his son helped him along,
So moving a sight it was,
To see them clinging to each other and talk.

He rushed back home.
He made three calls immediately;
‘Mom, how are you? Its been a long time.’
‘Shaan, I miss you man. Let us meet today.’
‘Rita, I’m sorry. I have always loved you as mine.’

And that night he was surprised that he slept like a log.