Tornadoes

Stressful zone, the soul was
an agony, when she saw the reflection
of same from people, she loved!
Talking and calming each other, it was!
An important day to mark!

Sitting and waiting, for the turn to come...
Calm down! Calm down! I heard him say:
"Stay calm and patient, my dearest...
You will do well the heart says,
Intuition strong of what I know!”

When the turn finally came,
sitting outside to be engulfed…
Guardians, torrential they were, heard speaking,
“Unworthy they are, matching none!”
A shiver of adrenaline, in spark, did run...

A smile on face, the soul entered...
to meet potters of higher realm and cause!
Identity of the temple it asked,
with identity, came the flow!
Hurdles that were to be crossed…

From philosophers to critic to method it was
first four lines of poem,
Sanat Kumars wanted me to explain, first:
As it read and re-read it
method and application, natural as if it was!

Little did it know
it was the escalating eagle…
A call, from who, went beyond the clouds!
A shock to soul as if it was, to visualize an image,
of one, who went beyond the storms!

Metaphor and Condensed Metaphor,
 the soul had failed to distinguish
 though alliteration and personification
 it had answered randomly and with confidence!

"Life’s …told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing…,” the Kumar quoted…
Macbeth was depressed, don’t you think so…
dazzled the soul was, to hear such notion!
Depressing, a tragedy, thus was meant to be!

Switching over to Othello,
the reason he asked, of his own death!
Simple as this soul was,
"guilty he must have felt," it said!
Kumar thus mocked me and said:
“He himself was the source of evil,
  thus the death.”

Speechlessly, the soul observed…
On being asked, what is it that clears the heart?
Catharsis, the answer was…
Is it just the emotion or an emotion suppressed?
Suppressed emotion it is, the soul said!

A novel they gave me to explain,
options there were many,
"Wuthering Heights," the soul's choice was,
“Wuthering,” the spelling in random asked…
answer of soul, correct it was...

  As the soul began with what genre, novel was!
Is it how you are going to begin?
The earthly Kumar with a twist mocked…
"How does the soul tell them the story
until and unless it explains what genre, novel belongs?"
Smilingly the jolly Sanat mocked, “What children,
even teachers, don’t know what it is…”

Horse and mouth, wanted a different connotation
 asked me what is the meaning from “horse’s mouth?”
 Soul wanted time to answer,
but, it would cut short the time, reluctant they were...
Words in random they asked me the meaning,
“hair stand on end,” “nail biting,” and many others
 the answer of soul to each, being apt!

Then out of blue, they asked,
Name an english mythic novelist?
My mind, a blank sheet, zoned out
unable to answer it...
James Joyce, "Ulysses,"they said...
Shocked to the core,
didn't understand then, it was a test of Patience!

At "goose bumps," Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein”
 it blabbered to itself, flow of river, sharp,
 caught me outright and asked:
 “Who is she and what about her?”
 She was nineteenth century novelist
 but made a mistake of calling her sister to P.B.Shelley…

Chetan Bhagat,’s “Half Girlfriend” was asked
Does the context matches with the title they asked?
“No,” the soul said in random
“not to readers for sure…”
 “Revolution 2020,” “Five mistakes of Life”
to be checked with “three,” by the silent earth…
“ Five Points Someone,” who said was the only one best!

At last, they asked of publication and what...
confidently “five in methods, short fiction and poem
the soul’s response was…"
Sanat Kumars, thus beaming the soul left,
Exhausted and complete in itself!

An enriching memory of Grilling and Patience,
for times and times to come!
Namaste _/\_