Here’s a poem about the modern world.

A light hearted poetry, it focuses on a concept- Gen X and Gen Z

I

For an evening, I was the nanny of a boy.

An eight year old lad, he was both bright and coy.

His mother was to leave for the show with her friends as I stepped inside to take over the chores.

He smiled at me, and waved gleefully with his fingers four.

“Where is your thumb? I asked him.

“Resting.” He said in a whim.

“Video games, I hate it.” His mother screamed from behind the closed doors.

“Ohh!” I merely could utter nothing else fearing I might sound like a bore.

After I sat down with a glass of water,

Juno peeped from behind the living room clutter.

“What is it that you’d say if I ask to join me for a game?’

 “A game of what?” I could see everything else, other than the video game.”

“Video games, PUBG, and what? He stood there, unsure of my reply.

‘Ahh! But your mother does not favour it.” I replied quickly.

‘I can teach you,” he offered a deal I could not deny.

I knew deep within, I felt a bit peevish in not knowing how to play a game, and now here I was having an ally.

Coyly I obeyed my master, too short, to be one.

But I did not go by his size, for don’t they say, size doesn’t matter when you want to learn having fun.

His room was not too tidy, but then he offered me the big bed.

I didn’t mind the breadcrumbs on the floor as I long as I sat upon the homestead.

Then he gave me a small horse shoe or so it seemed at a glance.

Until I noted small buttons- red, green, black and blue,

Slowly, I sipped from my glass to quench my thirst.

A remote, I rectified my thought.

II

He gave me a nod and said, ‘Here we start, you are no longer my nanny but my opponent and you possess the darts.”

I looked at the screen, some cartoon figures brightly dressed, stood there, smiling at me.

“You are this one- Lady Kararoomba,’ the boy spoke as though a kid very smart.

“And you are who?” I asked quaintly, almost loosing my sheen.

“I am the bad king and you are the good girl,’ he said as I shook slightly from fear.

Again he nodded and the screen came alive.

Everything was moving and I felt as though the whole screen was taking a dive.

“Ohh my God, what do I do, what do I do.” I panicked for goodness must thrive.

“Use the buttons dumbo.” He did not look up but on the remote, he stuck his eyes open wide.

I pressed the buttons but I admit the screen was moving faster than my nimble fingers could glide, on the machine.

“Save Kararoomba, save her, you owe your blood to her alone, abide.” The screen screeched and hissed and I was out of my wits again.

The screen came to a halt and with it my heart leaped and leaped.

“Did she die?” I asked him and his eyes grew wide.

“Yes.” He nodded and I could see te from his face slide.

“Haven’t you ever played it?” I was almost in tears for no fault of mine.

Guilty, and ashamed of not having been able to save her.

For in my time, we roamed free to oil our gear.

III

“Fine, let us play Ludo then, I am sure, you know what that is, like my old mother.”

“Yes, yes. I do. I nodded to shake away my guilt and fear.

I remember as a girl, I played Ludo amid the free woods,

Which were long gone and now there stood,

a resort which people visited to cover their moods.

He snatched the remote from my hand.

But, I still felt fear and guilt well up, guilt with shame.

I wish I could set everything right by merely swinging a wand.

I wish I could earn fame as a dame playing the video game.

But, then we played Ludo and spent the evening left, silently until her mother came.

IV

I hid the event from her and I was sure, so would Juno.

That night when I went back home and sat beside my mom,

She asked me what crime I had done to be so numb.

I told her I failed to save Kararoomba from the video game.

“Who?” My mother questioned even when I had explained every bit to her about the game.

I could now see why people get hooked to such games, as my dad stood nodding, understanding nothing,

But just the name in the game.