‘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?