MEMOIRS OF THE ILL-BEGOTTEN: A PREFACE

MEMOIRS OF THE ILL-BEGOTTEN: A PREFACE

Memoirs-

revelations treading the thin line

between the narcissistic

and the confessional

Look not the same herein-

The equations-

they all went wrong

from the very beginning.

Conceived unawares,

conceived unwanted,

his birth was not festive.

No contended maternal sigh

following soul-ripping pain

attended his nativity.

No beaming mother

lulled him to sleep.

No one celebrated

his toddling escapades.

No firm paternal grip

walked him his first steps

He had no father figure

he could set out searching

He had no moments to cherish

in play field or in school classes

wherein they found him

a whipping boy, a joke.

His youth-

Look not for the ideal

out of an outcast

haunted by dark shadows

of sneering societal malice.

It's a crooked living

where brute force rules

brute ways, remorseless,

a living answerable to none.

His family-

His attempt to tie up

the broken threads

in the safe anonymity

of some alien land.

Doomed by seeds of

dissipation running

deeper in his veins

beyond his control.

His death-

Was it revenge on god-knows-who?

On those ever-haunting shadows?

Was it sheer despair?

Was it philosophical:

his self inflicted death?

Who would tell?

That frozen woman in the corner

ogling vacant

into future unknown?

Those pathetic urchins beside her

gazing from face to face

of those around?

Those onlookers unconcerned

or oozing belated sympathy?

But then, why insist that a death,

being culmination of a life,

should make sense

where life failed to do so?