My friend Vidya Vartak Joshi recently posted fotos of icecreams she enjoyed in Budapest, Hungary.
What was special about these icecreams was that , unlike cones which are generally burdened under several random scoops of icecream, these were sculpted like roses. These edible works of art clearly needed to be highlighted. Beautiful, delicious, in several colors and in various shades of the same primary color.
What had not changed, was the fact that they , like all ice creams around the world, melted.
Never mind. They deserved, what else, a poem !
Born of a great churning,
sometimes in a pot,
and sometimes,
internally in a
refrigerated mind,
she abhored it,
when she was presented to
greedy folks
in scoops ,
loaded on top of each other,
and she pined and hungered
for a Beautiful Life.
It is in the fitness of
fragrant things
that she should be
presented
at the Ice-Cream Debutante Ball
in a flared rose tinted outfit,
with ice cold whorls
emanating from a
very ordinary cone.
She understands
that though
this is the Beautiful Life,
it is more important
to have a Beautiful Mind,
that learns to rationalise
how momentary life is,
and that it is OK
to melt and cry.
sometimes in a pot,
and sometimes,
internally in a
refrigerated mind,
she abhored it,
when she was presented to
greedy folks
in scoops ,
loaded on top of each other,
and she pined and hungered
for a Beautiful Life.
It is in the fitness of
fragrant things
that she should be
presented
at the Ice-Cream Debutante Ball
in a flared rose tinted outfit,
with ice cold whorls
emanating from a
very ordinary cone.
She understands
that though
this is the Beautiful Life,
it is more important
to have a Beautiful Mind,
that learns to rationalise
how momentary life is,
and that it is OK
to melt and cry.
