1. The
Burial of the Dead
April
is the cruellest month, stirring
The
winter-frozen blood in the veins, rousing
Mosquitoes
and dust storms, dousing
The
light in the souls with the fire of the sun.
You
came riding waves of promises,
Development
topped the list,
Quality
was sought in and through workshops,
Sweatshops
are what we are left with.
Unreal
City,
Under
the glare of the blaring sun,
A
crowd flowed over bulldozed debris,
Performing
the rituals chanted by the Guru.
“You!
hypocrite lecteur! – mon semblable, - mon frère!”
2. A Game
of Chess
The
Chair she sat in itched her bum with allergens,
Her
dress, words and smile sanitised by detergents,
“Your
move, your move,” cried she ready to pounce
On
the King on every board, every board she played against
Keeping
multiple gadgets alive on her capacious crowded table.
“Bulldozer,”
people called her.
Queen,
she considered herself.
Heads
rolled when she smiled.
Tails
wagged when she screamed.
The
Guru chanted mantras of success
For
her the chessmen transmuted into pawns.
Before
her the world prostrated
And
the Guru laughed his way to the bank.
3. The
Fire Sermon
The
chelas lit the fires
On
pyres of protests
Ghar
Vapsi, ghar vapsi,
Chanted
the fires
That
danced in the darkness
Of
development built on infinite debris.
4. Death
by Sun
The
bulldozer took on feminine agility
And
achieved multiple orgasms beneath variegated costumes
When
the April sun scorched the souls
That
longed for spring rains and resurrection.
5. What
the Thunder Said
Datta
Dayadhvam
Damyata
But
there was no thunder
There
is no promise in the Waste Land
Except
farts from bums
Rested
on chairs that cause allergy.
Note: The poem is a silly parody of T S Eliot's famous poem of the same title and same parts. I admire Eliot. I claim nothing. Not even understanding Eliot. I'm not worthy to lick his boots. But I love his imageries. I love the way he can tease us out of our complacencies. Out of our hypocrisy, perhaps. Not out of our greed, I'm sure. Greed for power and wealth and land and...
awesome :-) thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteMy pleasure.
DeleteOh, the comparisons! I hope I understood most of it right...
ReplyDeleteI too hope :)
DeleteGood one Tom.. :) Thanks..
ReplyDeleteMost welcome, Uttpal
DeleteI understood as I read your posts about the school. It was sad. But the poem has a sharp humor :)
ReplyDeleteLand is being taken away from farmers, people are ejected from their homes, students and teachers are thrown out of School... Development comes at some price! Or have we converted everything into a commercial enterprise?
DeleteIt's only you who could appropriately match Eliot's genius in words and in spirit!
ReplyDeleteAmazingly done!!
I'm flattered. Thank you.
DeleteI too agree
DeleteDelighted to see you after a long time :)
DeleteSame plight, different eras; I would say. :)
ReplyDeleteYes, Saru, only the time changes, people don't- unfortunately.
DeleteI adore Eliot, so I was a little taken aback when I read the beginning....but you did so much justice not just to the great poet but to your words as well.....I don't have words enough to praise you Sir.....just a salute....
ReplyDeleteThanks for your generosity.
DeleteSattire and it shows pain too....kudos truly!
ReplyDeleteYou got it absolutely right, satire and pain.
Delete