When your engineer friend goes abroad and
spends money lavishly
you wish you had not majored in the Humanities.
When he takes photos of Stratford-upon-Avon,
You look at your small personal library
and plant kisses on the dust-covered tragedies.
It is time for you to go through the yellowed pages again
The words speak to you and
you to the words.
You dress up your sister as a witch for a fancy-dress competition
You philosophize like King Macbeth
When your dreams fall apart, somebody asks,
“How much do you earn in your late twenties?”
Still, you are proud
You know more about the place than he does
Isn’t fancy better than your four eyes?
Anupom Kumar Hazarika