Birth of a poem

This was written in '97. I was doing a creative writing course (postal) from UK and they used to send a monthly newsletter about opening for freelance contributors in magazines and journals in the UK. In one issue I found a small column about a poetry competition with the title 'LOST' to be judged by an eminent poet (I don't remember who). This info was lingering in my head but I wasn't expecting anything to come out of it. Then bingo! I was going through the India Today in candlelight (those were the days of 30 mins load shedding & funnily those 30 mins turned out to be the most intense or focused in a 24 hrs day). There was a write-up about Soumitra Chatterjee, I don't remember the headline but the introduction had something like “he may have retired but his popularity refuses to go into oblivion”. The last word somehow rang a bell in my head and the last line was formed and very soon the whole poem was ready. So, I pulled a writing pad closer and jotted it down (yes! I used to write everything on paper with a pen in those days). Next day, I requested Dad to get it typed in his office PC and bring a couple of prints in the format specified in the newsletter. I did get the print out and a floppy disk in the evening with the comment "the lady who typed this told that you had spelt ‘existence’ wrongly and she has corrected it." No idea if he had read the whole thing. But, he did get me the Demand Draft for the submission and then I typed the covering letter attaching the poem and the DD with an unstamped self-addressed envelope requesting them that I’d like to have the opinion of the judge about my poem. I’d get it after a month or so on a piece of paper not bigger than a visiting card “We did not mean to use the title to be used in that context. And, only a person with severe physical disability can come up with the last line."

For me writing this at that time was an experiment with words rather than an emotional outpouring. But, I feel today it somehow resonates my mental state and I doubt that my mind will conjure up such a thing no matter however hard I try.

Lost

Dreams are lost with the sweet slumber.

Wishes are buried deep inside the heart.

The vulnerability to love,

The courage to hate,

Is lost.

Hopes for the future,

Memories of the past,

Are lost as I pass through the present.

Futility of existence pierces the soul.

Now I wish my life to be lost in the oblivion of eternity.

Stray Dogs

In hindsight every life threatening situation has something funny about it or it just leaves you with a smirk on your face because you survived it and it gives massage to your ego.

Well, I’d such an experience a few weeks back. People familiar with me maybe dying of boredom reading about or listening to my adventures on the battery operated wheelchair. So, this is basically for the uninitiated or the people who may have missed this story altogether.

It was a Sunday afternoon and on the whim I felt like catching up the latest release in the theatre nearby. Oddly, I was feeling super confident that today being a holiday I’ll reach the theatre without any hassle as the traffic on the road would be minimal and I’d cross the roads without any assistance.

My intuition was proven right as there wasn’t a soul on the road. So, I continued my jaunt till reaching the main junction - no traffic. Still, I looked left, then right, then left again (as they used to teach in school from a chapter about Road Safety) before crossing the road.

Having crossed the road, I was jubilant in my head and even imagined punching the air. The going was smooth till now. I was aware of the big auto rickshaw parked ahead and cautious that I should not bang it. Suddenly I heard a humming sound, it took me a few seconds to realise that it was actually a growl. My eyes started searching for the source of that, and there he was, under the auto, looking at me. My wheelchair automatically became dead slow, undecided whether to go ahead or to stop. In fact, there was a bunch of them taking their afternoon nap. Meanwhile, the growling had become barking and it was waking up others. The barking one had come out by now and taken his position on my left and others were following him and taking their positions as if they were going to have a pre-match huddle like cricketers around me.

I nearly started crying looking at the jaw of the leader of the pack barking ferociously, I’d see the sharpness of his teeth and wondered where he’d reach if he decided to pounce on me, shoulder, neck, face and even my head. Suddenly, the dialogue from Life of Pi “Animals don't think like we do! People who forget that get themselves killed. When you look into an animal's eyes, you are seeing your own emotions reflected back at you, and nothing else.” flashed through and I realised that crying won’t help, turned my chair to the right and ran for my life.

Yet I’d feel that a few of them were chasing me, barking at the top of their lungs and an old drunkard (who couldn’t even keep his Lungi in place) standing on the sidelines and telling me pedikalle mone, unnum chayilla (don’t be scared son, they won’t harm you).

Thankfully, a couple of bikes appeared (as if they were assigned to save my life) from nowhere honking and making noise, which made my chasers disperse in various directions and forget everything about me.

I stopped when I was safe distance away from the dogs. My thighs were shivering due to spasm and anxiety, which is risky as my balance on the chair is maintained by the stability of my legs on the footrest. If I lose that I may slip out of the seat very soon and then manoeuvring the chair would be impossible. So, my first thought was to take U turn and return home. But, facing those dogs again within minutes didn’t feel good and I’d already covered three-fourth of way to the theatre and it’d be such a waste of effort to return home without watching the movie.

***

I’d narrated this incident orally to my friend Velu, who was very encouraging in saying that my narration was so good that it kept haunting him for a couple of nights. So, I’ve burnt the proverbial midnight oil for a few nights to write it down for the wider world.