Plans upset ; 1 April 2024

Soman Ragavan

1 April 2024


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…


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.

* * *


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…


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…


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.

* * *


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.

* * *


Methought unique would be my funeral :
Would ring out “Zindagi ka safar”

By the maestro Kishore Kumar,

In a last, unforgettable call...


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 ?


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…


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…

* * *


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.


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.







  • Author: Soman Ragavan (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 1st, 2024 10:19
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 0
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