Men may come, And Men may go, But I go on forever...

 Recently, PM Modi, while delivering his farewell speech on the occasion of the retirement of four seasoned politicians, and members of Rajya Sabha, was choking with emotions, even as his eyes welled up with tears. So powerful was his performance in this live reality show, that the retiring foursome also  got carried away by  the unprecedented wave of sentimentalism and broke down. Soon, all the members were gasping for breath, swimming in saline water, and a flood warning could have been issued had the dam of grief given way. Thank god it didn't happen...even though, such an act of fate could have facilitated the razing down of the quasi century old Parliament Building, a legacy of the British era to pave way for the proposed new construction, symbolic of a new India, emerging from the shackles of its colonial past. 

This was an unusual show of emotions on the part of the PM who is not wont to public display of his innnermost feelings. With India riding forever on a rollercoaster of tragic events such as lynchings, rapes, caste wars, accidents, human rights violations, this could  translate into an excess release of cortisol, as well as severe dehydration for our overwrought PM, were he to shed  tears for every mishap. For example, how can he afford to mourn the death of 160 farmers who succumbed to hardships faced during the protests? Or of hundreds of migrant labourers who died while trying to reach home in the wake of the sudden lockdown imposed to stop Covid-19 in its tracks? Or of those weary daily wagers, mowed down by an empty freight train?  How can he commiserate with all the victims of  rape, with one taking place every  seventeen minutes? Or empathize with the kins and kith of those malnourished children in Bihar and U.P. dying of encephalitis? Or condemn the death of 53 Delhiites brutally murdered during the communal violence which erupted in the aftermath of the three-and-a-half month long CAA protests? Or lament a thousand or so destitute souls, claimed by the devastating floods of 2020? Etc...etc...

Yes, let us not burden the PM by thrusting too much expectations on him. The task of ruling an unruly country like ours is tough and requires his iron fist. 

Then again, how are we to feel safe, governed, confident in the wide path of the masses, when its leader plainly cares more for his generals than his foot-soldiers? Certainly, the "good of the nation" must come first, but for what percentage of the nation? For which chosen groups and lucky strata? Perhaps on one of his trips to Russia, he picked up an old local proverb and found it suited to his ideology: "the tears of strangers are only water". 

Maybe it is time that his loyal  political buddies give him a subtle reminder that such sentiments aren't exactly the best fit for Leaders of Great Nations.

Lockdown Blues

The following verses were written during the lockdown, and I guess reflect the many moods I went through: from buoyont and carefree, to gloomy and depressed, to a vague feeling of redemption.  Tucked away in the journal, getting swallowed up by the busy-voiced clock, they were already beginning to sound old. So, I thought it might be a good idea to share them on my blog, for "the ball I threw in the park has not yet reached the ground".

1.

woven in the spell of night

a peacock's mating call,

such wild yearnings:

enough to make the darkness

tremble

2.

Milkshake

You may lose me in your dreams

but, i will find you in my bliss,

together we shall walk

on the quiet cobblestone streets

giggle as we go past the old church

from the memory of our first kiss, 

when we exchanged our strawberry

milkshake moustaches,

by the stained glass relief

of The Virgin.

3.

Why does one's being reach out

with a few words, 

wanting an acknowledgement

of its identity;

an effort to touch a sombre chord,

to quietly find a corner

by the  reined solitude 

of the receding evening

and set it ablaze

with silent notes of a love unspoken,

yet never forgotten.

4.

a sunset and

a stillness 

astir 

by  flapping wings 

of returning birds,

hovered over the

crooked narrow path.

Gathering the many shades of

green in its fold,

red earth heaved

under the

weight of 

footfalls, lost

to the silence

of a purging twilight.

5.

Just a little longer,

And I would throw off

The nightly cloak of vague dreams

And dive into the day

In a meaningless mechanical way.

Just a little longer

And the music would begin

Tapping away of feet would follow 

an aching desire 

to be young again, dance on fire.

Just a little longer

and the heart would beat wildly

responding to the distant

beating of drums,

and to the evening's hymnal hums.

Just a little longer

then silently I shall 

stride into the night 

and with my spirit on pyre,

bid farewell to impossible desires

6.

Wreck

reduced to a wreck,

beneath all that debris

do I look for myself

some bits and pieces...

a shard of someone

else's memory pretending

to be mine...

and my own?

it looks for an escape

from this desperate gloom

somewhere to hide

to protect itself

against the onslaught

of time and 

amnesia

7.

Farewell 

when finally I had

broken free from

my own belting

loneliness

i stepped out 

to watch the shadows

shuffling past the 

quiet path...

and there, amongst their

dark gray whispers

a tremor of light:

a Brahaminy kite

spanning with its 

outstretched wings

the brazen skies.