Lund Fakir

Chodumal scratches my neighbourhood at obnoxious hours;
Bathes me in a stench of salted water by the end of each day;
Drapes me daily in suffocating cloth with silly openings for my head; 
Shampoos my lustrous curls, and occasionally pulls it too.


The other night, he violently shook me out of sleep at 3 a.m. - madarchod;
The one-eyed whore that I am, I oozed out two spoonfuls of blood;
My torso, bruised and beaten with the constant battering;
And then his warm palms came to caress me - choothad.

I often meet my friends, in the night hours;
We hang out for a bit;
And then the bastard makes me wear colourful, scented rubber;
And shoves me into their mouth. And out. And in.
Relentless. Bhenchod.
Until I puke. Into my rubber outfit.

My two plump friends on the ground floor often call out to him in jest;
I love the name.

Saala, Lund Fakir

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