On An Outlaw

We are antonyms—of each other (an in-law, a retired Colonel, Who very often forgets That he’s retired) And I. He’s an in-law, But I think of him as an Outlaw! We are of a family. He lives upstairs And I right below. We have a common kitchen And parlour, though. He gets up very early in the morning, And I earlier. He always bellows his greeting: When I am making my tea Or composing a poem. In the quiet hours, He bursts in on me and greets: “Good morning, So and so.” Seeing me startled, He makes fun of me: You are cowardly. True, but I am I! Always barks—so loud, So much so whenever he speaks to me— can never chat, mind you— I don’t seem to get him. When I put it to him gently not to bark, He retorts: You speak softly And no one in this household listens. I know I bark, but things are done, you see. True, barking helps sometimes—not always! Living upstairs, He can somehow – who knows how? – Catch me at it: Not closing the tap, Or not switching off the lights, Not shutting the backdoor, And so on! Once I asked him naïvely: “How do you know, Col. So and so, That it’s invariably poor me?” He quipped: “Who else can it be?” True! Once he found out That I had moved some stuff from the kitchen. He shouted: Why should you? I said: Madam’s orders. He yelled: I’m the boss in this place. Then I asked him in all innocence: Do you have Madam’s permission to say so?! And there was no response! I love gardening. And of course I love flowers and plants, As most of us do. But he is for the kitchen garden. His argument: No plant, if not functional, Should have a place in our garden. He (a soldier) and I (none of the sort) Very often fight on this issue. And surprisingly and invariably, I win— Thanks to the womenfolk For their moral support and strong sentiments He often remarks: You English Professors are paid For reading novels and talking nonsense, Whereas we soldiers fight for the country. True, yet I remind him— gently but ineffectually: But, Col. So and so, you are retired! He reiterates that I should Get up and get going, Instead of sitting at the computer Much of the time, Pretending to write poetry, In which there is no money—in any case; Or at least should follow the example of Amitav Ghosh or David Lodge… Write novels and make money. How I wish I could! ***