The Conjured Poet..........Contd.

With little strength that he got upon fighting the sun he tried to stand against his odds with his still trembling knees and shaky hands. All he could learn from his last lesson was to have endurance to wear his enemy out. Like a boxer who trains himself to stand through all 15 rounds against excruciating pain, puffed eyes, bleeding nose and gums and facial cuts, has very little chances of losing the game. But our soldier poet was unaware that the 'come on! hit me more' boxer has even sparser chances of winning the bout, when his opponent won’t say goodbye easily.


In spite of trying to change his milieu he tried to change himself. He keeps on taking the pain without caring much about it, blindly hoping that one fine morning he will rise to experience none anymore. The changed ambitions showed in his work, whatever little he kept to manage. The followers too had to change their ways, they who cheered him for his passion and love for life, which used to reflect well into his works, now started to drift away from his lack luster creations.