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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=451259" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Finally got my just dues! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Heaving a sigh <br>Of great relief; <br>With reverence <br>I tied my manuscript <br>And wistfully <br>Smiled to myself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Took it to a publisher, <br>Who had promised, <br>He will have a look.<br>As I knocked, <br>He peered, eyebrows raised <br> From his glasses resting <br>On his nose.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cast a cursory<br>Glance, Hm… poetry, <br>This won’t sell.<br>I gaped <br>Incredulously, <br>And asked with <br>Temerity, <br>Pray, why not? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Don’t know, <br>But it’s out of vogue.<br>Then why don’t <br>You just close shop, <br>I said outraged.<br>Why, do you know<br>Writer’s like Chetan Bhagat<br>Keep me afloat.<br>He too has quit <br>His lucrative job<br>At multinational bank, <br>Writing can pay, <br>If you write, what sells.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On my insistence, <br>He condescendingly<br>Gave in.<br>Ok, if you insist<br>Let’s go ahead; <br>One condition, <br>You take them all away<br>And you pay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Seeing my work in print, <br>Tears rolled down my chin.<br>My childhood friend, <br>Who managed a book shop<br>In the next block, <br>Put them on display.<br>After a few months<br>When none was sold<br>I told him, <br>Just pack<br>And brought the carton<br>Back home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Next day called, <br>The raddiwala<br>He said four rupees a kilo.<br>I nodded, <br>Took out a few <br>For old times sake.<br>He left, <br>Handing me a fifty rupee note.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day, on a cold afternoon, <br>Feeling lost and forlorn<br>I sat on a bench in a park.<br>Nearby an amorous young couple<br>Bought roasted peanuts in a paper cone-<br>Eating, laughing and roaring at some joke.<br>Was almost tempted to <br>Take out my pen and pad, <br>But then gave up, a bit sad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Before I knew<br>The boy went on his knees<br>And began to recite<br>A poem from that <br>Piece of paper.<br>The girl was visibly<br>Delighted and impressed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yours truly, <br>Too felt duly<br>Proud<br>And smiled<br>With tears in the eyes.<br>A young couple<br>Sipped from my word wine</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Finally got my just dues…<br>Walked back home, <br>A little unsteady<br>On my feet.<br>You see, I too <br>Felt a wee bit tipsy…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Raddiwala- a man who earns his living by buying old books, magazines, newspapers, <br>And sells it to a middleman who recycles the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mamta+Agarwal">Mamta Agarwal</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=451259" data-title="Finally got my just dues! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! de Mamta Agarwal" data-description="Heaving a sigh 
Of great relief; 
With reverence 
I tied my manuscript 
And wistfully 
Smiled to myself.

Took it to a publisher, 
Who had promised, 
He will have a look.
As I knocked, 
He peered, eyebrows raised 
 From his glasses resting 
On his..."></div>
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