Uncle Benu preferred his evenings alone
When sun touched the western horizon
He would make himself a cup of tepid milk
And without showing a sign of worldly care
Would retire to his easy chair.

Then he was the most difficult man to approach
Occasionally swiping at the flying cockroach
And microbat intruding into the room
Accompanying him in that night-lamp gloom.

What he brooded was never known to me
To me he was a ghost and as scary
Quietly waiting in that darkened zone
If ever a living soul stepped in alone!

The only time I called him I would ever recall
As he moved his head towards me
And it still haunts me on lonely-bed nights
The eyes were all white!

Nobody believed me
None in my family
Not even mum

She only said

*Do you too like him take *****?