My standup comedian

Shawn’s jokes are mostly  forgotten 
They’re spontaneous 
There’re original
They’re hilarious
But it’s that moment
And then they’re gone
Out of my memory
The other day
While studying 
Name two solids
I said
Hindi book
Maths book
I didn’t mind
I knew
He knew 
The right answer
We moved on
To liquids
I didn’t ask
About the gases
Is his favourite subject
It’s easy to be funny
What does a pigeon give birth to
I ask
I want to hear 
Young ones
He says eggs
There’s a picture 
Of a caterpillar 
And leaves 
in a container 
With a mesh
The question is 
What will happen 
After  a few days
There’s no water

His anwer
The leaves
They will die
Because they’ll be
Eaten up
Then there’s English
What is the plural of sky?
That’s wrong
It’s skies
No he says
It’s sky
There is only one sky
Atleast in his world 
Social studies

There are two sets
Of clay pots
The picture from 
His textbook

The answer 
The pots are made
For storing 
Different types of things 
His answer
The potter
He made some
And some small
I ask him why
He wrote this way
He says
If you were a potter
Wouldn’t you be bored
Of making the same pot
All over and over
I guess we too
Are meant to be different 
We were meant 
Not to be the same
Why would our potter
Make all children
The same
Over and Over
Some think he’s rude
Not knowing how
To speak to elders
I do try
To tell him
But I know
In his own way
He’s trying to be funny
In him mind
All are equal
His parents
His grandparents
His classmates
His teachers
His friends
His cousins
The beggar
Be it the laundryman
Or the garbage collector
They ring the doorbell 
And ask for him
He speaks to them
He makes them laugh
If not anything 
With his piggy snort
His anger
He cries
To get his way
Or for sympathy 
When hurt
He’s getting there
A joker
He wants to be
A fine one he will make
I think
His jokes are all forgotten
But now I’ll preserve them
In this blog
So he can laugh
At his own
When he grows

If he still
Wants to be
A standup comedian 

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