Mad Sital we used to call him <br />Sital in my language means cool <br />Though never found in him anger’s steam <br />He never followed any rule. <br /> <br />If someone asked tell Sital <br />What is your name <br />My mother knows it all <br />Pat his reply came. <br /> <br />What class do you read in Sital <br />What school you are at <br />His only reply was mother knows all <br />He would not prolong the chat. <br /> <br />He would be found any time of day <br />Never minding the sun and rain <br />Bare bodied standing on sideway <br />Counting one to ten. <br /> <br />If someone asked him to count ten to one <br />He fell into silence for a while <br />Not taught at school still left undone <br />He would answer with a smile. <br /> <br />We knew he would lead a bachelor’s life <br />Counting his days up to ten <br />For no sane girl would ever be his wife <br />With him on the bed be lain. <br /> <br />But Providence you know defies hows and whys <br />Discriminates not between sane and insane <br />If it hadn’t been so and happened otherwise <br />Would remain unmarried all mad men. <br /> <br />So there came the woman the beautiful bride <br />Her face glowing like full moon <br />In rapturous joy that he never tried to hide <br />He forgot his numeric count soon. <br /> <br />Mad Sital would talk to her all day long <br />Her beauty had him so bewitched <br />They lived happily ever there wasn’t a thing wrong <br />Never mattered she was deprived of speech.<br /><br />Pradip Chattopadhyay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-to-ten-3/
