‘The existentialist dream’
First entry at Café Dumont:
I was a stranger to
those filthy men,
smoking cheroots,
drinking vermouths
and martini specials.
I was among
the virgin women
present there,
silently looking at
suitable men
(thinking about the worth of dowry).
I was thinking
for the forfeiture
of my old belief.
I rejected my friend
from my heart.
She was a staunch
religion holder.
I sat with men
after that.
Copied them
at the café,
whenever I visited.
I loved a married man,
who had a wife
five years older
and beautiful.
I slept one night
with him.
Then, my partner came,
who discussed with me
his life earlier
and that prevailed now.
He was individualist,
shocked to find
I was too,
but we never married,
for that entailed later.
We cherished
the existentialist dream.
We talked about our friends,
our loved boys and girls,
and we found ourselves
happy, dauntless.
We knew, we won’t
succeed in everything,
but wanted everything.
We were playful warriors.
Old friends never visit now,
new ones are encouraged
for the same dream.
We talked informally
about our daily repertoire,
we were never embarrassed
to prick out
the vulnerabilities
we had.
(sex and play included our authentic recognition)
We did not
organize the exhibition
of a modish display
of thoughts (new thoughts).
These existed prior
to our births.
We were urban followers
of these faiths.
Female counterparts
can join me
to distinguish
from that dowry world.
Can we not meet here,
at Café Dumont,
my stall of a new origin?
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