By: Prathap Kamath

As the fourth one
I always smelt victory,
mouth watering
standing close to the third,
but never had it.

The victory stand
had room only for three.

I lived in the middle land
between the wanted
and the unwanted.
From one side I looked
good, even admirable;
from the other,
pitied, even scorned.

I live under cover
because the curfew
has cast me out
ruling that wherever I appear
after the third
the whole shall be arrested
and locked behind the bars.