Is it the folded hundred rupee note
Or do creatures crawl in jeans?
The pocket checked, the note taken out
I sit again at the ground
The lake stretches in front of me
Koels, parrots and parakeets
Fly around with bats and crows
I wonder if they make my imagination work
Is it the starched thread that pokes
Or do insects crawl for the joke?
The stab my thigh feels seems real
Is it the Identity card that prods?
Or the cell phone that nudges?
There! Soft flesh definitely felt a dig.
Off! I shoot up from the ground,
Something just yanked my thigh
A man’s eyes follow my behind.
Something still scratches, this time on my mind.
Oblivious of being shy,
I jump two steps at a time,
Key to the room in hand,
I scuttle down the corridor.
In the room, with clothes off,
Looking about the thigh – there’s no sign of a bite
No hint of any slime
Fingering inside the jeans
Discovers me a grasshopper--
Hop hop, it flops I flip
Sprinting away, it looks it blinks
Carefully treading on silent ground,
I pass the hopper but it looks me round
I look I blink
But in a wink, it jumps and hops and gets on my top
Eeeeee I scream
It flips its wings
A sandal in hand,
Armed I shoot,
The harmless hopper flickers
At last, it lies mute.
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