"Money. பணம். 钱." is a poem that comes from my portfolio, "Feeling Dispirited, Lonely, and Tenebrous: A Collection of Hopeful, Optimistic, and Mirthful Poems" that I've written. It started as a school assignemnt, and proceeded to spiral into something larger. The Chinese is just another language that I've studied in the past, and to keep my theme of threes. Through this piece, I began to find poetry, and continue to enjoy wriitng it every so often. The title translates to: "money money money." I wanted to tie in languages in this poem because culture and communication are important — especially given the fact that my grandfather primarily spoke Tamil and I english when talking to each other. This poem is a way to remember my grandfather and mention the last time I saw him in person. I hope you enjoy!
I.
50 rupees.
Blue bill with a brighter blue on the side.
Shades of gray and black, like pencil dust, all around.
A four from an unknown origin may I add.
Food. Toiletries. Not a lot, but something. All for 50 rupees.
4,31 yuan.
Silvery, possibly slippery, coin.
Someone said, 50 rupees…
oh, around 4 dollars?
it’s actually the yuan.
Food. transportation. Something, for roughly 4 yuan.
68 cents.
Hand full of copper coins,
silver circles,
nickels in a flat cylinder.
Almost nothing is worth the measly amount.
II.
People are greedy
.
Money is a tool, a cure,
something they can’t get enough of.
Society revolves around it.
“7 rings” by Ariana.
“Money” by Lisa.
The reality of the world:
Money is all people desire
As money is power.
They don’t see
the significance
behind a single bill.
They:
Lawyers, and
Doctors, and
Businesspeople
just want to earn more and more, as
Bills accumulate as fast as possible.
What can a bill mean?
Do you simply spend the money someone important gives?
Eventually, you might, but,
You might not.
It’s like this,
One can stand up against evil.
Attempt to be good when surrounded by chaos.
The world is a slightly messed up place.
I know that this bill won’t go anywhere.
It’ll stay right by my side.
I won’t promise to pay the bearer the sum of 50 rupees.
Not this specific one.
III.
It is light blue, faded.
It has a small blue four at the top.
It has an oddly familiar handwriting,
It doesn’t look like mom’s…right?
It is his?
It is slightly crinkled, slightly dirty, yet smooth with the sense of a new, flat bill.
It does not matter.
In his memory, it’ll remain close to me.
And he gave it to me. It lies in my hand.
Maybe, it’s a bit ironic, but
He was a lawyer - my -
தாத்தா
was.