Top Hill Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Here in a sleepy hamlet
in the shadow of Top Hill
amid barren aridity
I am hiding.
A runaway
from my family, friends,
familiar faces,
and also
from myself!
Why I call them friends?
My family
who cares coz I earn,
friends
all fair weather,
familiar faces
that breed only contempt,
and the most deadly myself,
the untiring aspirer
in home, office, deals,
the macabre face on the mirror,
sartorially correct
refined manners
polished etiquette
but inside a greedy moron
ever ready to sell his soul
at the sight of a penny!
Here no one can find me
and I’ve to work hard
to turn my inside out
carry it atop Top Hill
for the sun to bake
the rains to wash
and the moon to bathe
my reincarnate!