Chunni Lal, the Kite Seller
At the corner of
Arya Samaj Street
There was a small shop
Of Chunni Lal, the kite seller
Where almost every evening
I used to go
To buy kites and string
There was often a crowd
At his shop
Colorful spools of string
Were displayed
In his shop
Chunni Lal didn't use a yardstick
But his hands
To measure the string
Chunni Lal used to do.
Echoing in the ears
Were mixed voices
Chunni... two annas' worth of red string
Chunni... four annas' worth of green string
Chunni... eight annas' worth of yellow string
Four annas' worth of string
He wound around the thumb and pinky finger
Of his left hand
His hand spun swiftly
Like Shiva's drum
And then, according to the cost
Of two annas, four annas, and eight annas
His hand would suddenly stop,
I bought a lot of string from Chunni Lal
But to this day, I have not understood
His standard of measuring string.
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