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Oct 2013
When I was young,
About three years of age,
I was made to stay at creche,
When my parents were away at work.

I used to see those yellow wasps glide,
Curious I used to look at them,
Elder people used to warn,
Warn me of their sting.

But I was still curious,
Curiosity subsided my fear,
Hard to grasp the idea of pains,
I just wanted to grab the yellow wasps.

And as I remember a curious younger myself,
I was by the carpet bed of marigold at creche,
There wandered a golden wasp on a marigold,
I wanted to hold that puny wasp in my hands,
Unaware of its sting I caught it out of curiosity,
The next thing I faintly remember is its sting..!

The painful sting lingered for the followup time,
The inflammation on my thumb followed it,
And I caught fever as well as the fear,
Instilled was the fear like a dread,
I used to remain fearful till ages.

The fear was vanquished not long later than it,
It stayed there in the crevices of my mind,
It was until I was bitten by several bees,
Once it was me and Rishabh my chum,
We had just stepped out of the school,
Someone had disrupted a honeycomb,
Angry bees were stinging us there then,
The painful panic inside was totally silent,
We managed to get to the bike and escaped.

I took anti-allergic tablets for two days,
Even Rishabh took the same medicines,
But I recovered soon with an experience,
Seemed to have worked better with my body,
Thanks to my compatibility with the medicines,
Rishabh caught fever with his face swollen for 2 weeks.
My fear of wasps had vanished,
A fear of angry bees had descended.

A tribute to my school-mate and a great friend Rishabh Malik.
My HP Poem #446
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl
Written by
Àŧùl  33/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ
(33/M/Kàrnál - Hàryáņá - Bháràŧ)   
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