1 April 2024
PLANS UPSET
1st stanza
My plans have I made about my cremation :
I thought nearly everything I had regulat’d :
But, the hand of fate ‘pon me dastardly descend’d :
Everything might be upset, in bloody damnation…
2nd
Some unseen virus roughshod doth ride :
Yet, by the calls of poetry still I abide;
My plans upset, at any time could be the sunset :
But, viral be the writings : immortal be the poet.
* * *
3rd
Desert’d by all, gor’d by ungrateful beings,
Of sheer desolation be fill’d my sightings;
Ah, a wretch’d life, sacrific’d for others,
Now gaping at some terminal shivers…
4th
My good deeds be trampl’d ‘pon without mercy :
My sacrifices dismiss’d by comments cruel and saucy :
The battering took its toll : endless be my lament :
From blood pressure arose in the head an accident…
5th
Surging gore pressure : in the head, a dastardly stroke :
Instantly the poet could have collaps’d under the yoke;
Somehow, the call of poetry was stronger :
The yoke of poetry doth he carry on further.
* * *
6th
My torture be not enough : in my suffering others rejoice.
Tragic poetry be my choice : in it do I find my lasting voice;
I plod on : my best friend be my faithful laptop :
From this divine machine, the legacies ne’er flop.
* * *
7th
Methought unique would be my funeral :
Would ring out “Zindagi ka safar”
By the maestro Kishore Kumar,
In a last, unforgettable call...
8th
But, the times have suddenly chang’d :
Everything hath to be re-arrang’d :
What if it hath to be a common pyre ?
What if for many be the final fire ?
9th
Would others accept the languishing song ?
Would this not enrage the unknowing throng ?
Even a final song to me might be denied :
In anonymity would I be flam’d, fried…
10th
Note : at an open air crematorium using wood, the ashes from a new cremation mixes with those from the previous one. Among Indians, on the day following the cremation, some ashes should be dropped in a river or the sea, in a religious ceremony.
Ah, mingling ashes... The ashes would mingle…
Only poetry shall trumpet my legacy with a jingle ;
Move aside, Billy : consum’d be thy times :
Thou ne’er suffer’d : at leisure rose thy rhymes…
* * *
11th
From the “mourning” parlour “Zindagi” shalt rise :
Even this rare scene posthumously will I surmise :
So be it : some will laugh : some will giggle :
Ne’er will they rise above their rubble.
12th
Else, outside the cremation ground
Afore the ceremony a spot should be found :
Come what may, Kishore Kumar shalt wail :
The future shalt be stunn’d without fail.
13th and last
“Zindagi” : life in every possible sense :
And, poetic pearls flying over every fence,
To reach out to far-flung hills and meadows :
Rapturous rhymes shalt usher in shining morrows.
(END)
SOMAN RAGAVAN
*****