Untouchability

Drizzling dusk, I sit with lightening evening at my dim lit room, I can not see from the front all the things flashing back from behind, funny are the things! An emotion wrapped up with reason coming up from the lower part of the stomach of me, a smile on the face, foolishness, but body is feeling a queer nausea, how a touch of a man makes unholy another one! Things are here funnier! That man one day on the table discussed some wonderful philosophy, he defined magnificently dialectic materialism with patriotic affinity and affirmed firmly ‘ I believe in humanism and in one humanity ‘ I see in his fingers, five rings in numbers though he cursed me to believe in the things non-matter but he refused to take with me a cup of tea, more dark descended around me as I on the bright light of Sunday morning see hypocrisy! Hypocrisy! On the pages of matrimonial all the young demand bride of their own caste, I shall not touch any book of poetry till the death of Untouchability, let all the poems get dust as they continue to dropp the trust to the sea, No more I can bear with this lie, really, really man is from the monkey!