The mad rush of the world
is put on hold,
like an angry subscriber to Cable TV
while the East Indian Sikh
smokes a cigarette,
and pretends to consult customer service.
In 3 minutes, he’s fine
to listen some more,
while the angry customer
is never cool.
The East Indian Smokes Cools
as calm as can be
and addresses the blunt American accent
with English flourishes
mixed with Hindu wisdom.
“My internet is slow!” The American yells.
“Oh—sorry, sir. Let me consult our happiness engineers…”
“Don’t put me on hold, Damn you!”
The Sikh smokes another cigarette, and smiles.
He is a writer, recording his philosophy, in his mind. No words get written down.
He is threatened 30 times a day.
Quality assurance is notified,
and the call is monitored, for a performance feedback review
but all the cable company can hear
are swear words,
coming from the angry American,
and the Sikh keeps his job for one more year, at least.
He is a follower of many traditions
He doesn’t get what he wants
but he has everything else.
He enjoys himself, sitting
in his sweat-soaked chair
in some anonymous cubicle
in the dungeons
He enjoys the angry Americans.
Perhaps, in a next life, he will be a poet.
There are always angry people,
but the Sikh doesn’t let that
get in the way
of him being cool.