Hi,
I am sending an attachment of my most ambitious poem till date. Its called The Grass Hopper and the Ant. I call it an 'epic fragment'. The characters of Grass Hopper and Ant are inspired from Aesop's fable but they are different entities in my poem. I think I have resolved a long standing spiritual crisis through this poem, one which bothered me throught my adolescence. I am not displaying the poem in the main body of the email because it is next to impossible to read the poem on screen and moreover I dont want people to read fragments of it on screen and miss out on the total effect of the poem. Whoever wants to read it will do well to take a print out of it. I would love to have your comments and views on the poem. So Zestians here is my masterpiece 'The Grass Hopper and the Ant'!
Ankur.
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\viewkind4\uc1\pard\sb100\sa100\f0\fs28 The Grass-Hopper and the Ant\par
\f1\fs24 G.P.\par
Of course, the mad clamor of road\par
is a great torture\par
for one bred in poetry so pure\par
but was this music itself not born\par
in the street\par
where sounds massacred themselves to pain?\par
ANT\par
Truth you do speak\par
for I too have seen\par
no savior born to virgin womb\par
and he that saved the world was a bastard\par
who was but earth's fire\par
violated into his mother\par
who bore him like the tomb bears the dead\par
and like a madman's sin\par
which should be accepted like fate.\par
G.P.\par
Yes, thus are wonders made\par
and she who is unfulfilled\par
spawns her unwanted flesh\par
which suffers, until, through its eye\par
discovers a remedy\par
pointing a land to itself, and to all\par
where its sufferings end, besides\par
which feels a heaven at start\par
until anodyne fades, and earth's crack\par
opens up with consuming fire.\par
ANT\par
Sir, you reach too far\par
like those lily-eyed poets\par
who try to catch the hoarse command\par
and the crazy game of lord\par
in metered rhyme.\par
G.P\par
Stop your malicious juices\par
from curdling my aged wine\par
god is crude but we life\par
should make earth's laws seem sweet\par
like a violin bow which speeds\par
the shattered disquiet of string\par
to spring in a sad liquid wail\par
which sounds sweeter than a maiden's smile.\par
ANT\par
Such sweetness ends in bafflement\par
and as you said\par
the mad-clamor mothered music\par
blunts truth's brokenness\par
and leads believing hearts\par
to kiss cactus as rose\par
and see heaven where nothing stands.\par
G.P.\par
But such illusions eyes require, my friend\par
for eyes break over shards\par
as long as blood drives the veins\par
then they blind themselves, to see stars\par
for we need the wishes of heart\par
more, than what brain knows\par
and in fancy man finds his daily balm\par
and structures a bright sky\par
to hide his dark woe.\par
ANT\par
But woe to him who forgets\par
the piece of earth on which he stands\par
and aspires for sky, and in aspiring flies.\par
G.P.\par
Your commonsense is so fine, my friend\par
that it cannot capture life\par
and he who has ever flied\par
will laugh at what you say\par
for he always flies because he forgets\par
and forgets sometimes to fly.\par
ANT\par
Sir, I understand your higher knowledge\par
but because you are aware\par
that we belong to earth\par
you speak so sane and not like the maniac\par
who, fervent ever prances for wind\par
and yet lies listless like the feather\par
intoxicated with the sky.\par
G.P.\par
And he strives so\par
because he belongs to the bird\par
and whoever can say that birds belong to earth\par
or even to sky\par
for birds belong to air, which is neither.\par
ANT\par
Sir, well said. But the bird dallies\par
between earth and sky\par
and its realm, the air, is nothing\par
without them. And this restless dalliance\par
marks the nature of life\par
which must aspire a void\par
and yet not loose sight of the footing\par
while thus making a home in between.\par
G.P.\par
Too sweet sound your words, my friend\par
the sweetness you had scorned\par
now to make yourself a fool\par
and to make yourself fooler still\par
by likening life to a bird\par
with flying in its will -\par
remember we are but plumes broken\par
who should wait for the wings of wind\par
and carry ourselves through\par
ceaseless sufferings.\par
But if you let yourself be an earthy soul\par
you can be so, dogged and ever smug\par
scorning the flying things\par
or closing eyes as they hover by.\par
And most ply this safer route\par
not daring to chance their dear life\par
to the whimsies of joy\par
while few keep dying all along\par
to fly some minutes which is their life\par
so pure, intense and high\par
that I feel as though its forever.\par
But I cannot judge who is saner\par
nobler, yes, the latter\par
but who cares for orphaned nobility in this age\par
she should guard herself\par
and honour her own name\par
saving herself from suicide\par
and other sins of the maligned race\par
which in her sweetness and sacrifice\par
she pours on herself -\par
for nobility is a babe\par
who without mother justice\par
and father power's care\par
strays into fire and injuries\par
and courts disaster in her every step\par
but I for myself have reached a stage in life\par
where only cunning could save me.\par
Still my blood surges with a righteous rage\par
whenever I see orphaned nobility ill-treated\par
and though I may not always use my arm\par
I'll try with my crooked fingers to save.\par
ANT\par
Sir, your way is one, I'm sure\par
I'll find very hard to emulate\par
for you let high philosophy work\par
through your nature\par
and your actions bear no strain\par
of the learned, whose ideals are so different from them\par
that they become knaves\par
or are so base that their standards\par
become worthier and higher than are\par
but you are a natural wonder\par
whose action, like a maidens, never betrays thought\par
and whose knowledge is but temperament\par
but pardon this feminine comparison\par
for I can think of no better\par
which matches your blood grown\par
so naturally wiser.\par
G.P.\par
Enough praise friend,\par
for flattery with false comparison\par
is a torture.\par
And however wise I match no maiden\par
for a maiden is a phenomenon\par
who has neither learnt the books nor suffered\par
but whose every act is so true to the sense\par
so appropriate as thought itself\par
that we too loose and lack words sometimes\par
to answer the questions that arise\par
seeking justification for their act\par
which are pretexts to test\par
our own capacity for argument.\par
And how many times have I ever succeeded\par
in describing that subtle smile\par
or that miraculous virginal pride\par
which gladdens my nerves on the edge\par
which knew it would have caused offence\par
in any other than her,\par
and so had expected the worst\par
and were plucked like strings instead.\par
Probably it's not too much to say\par
that their tics suggest decades of thought\par
and to instill this knowledge in every nerve\par
would require one a lifetime\par
that's why I call them a phenomenon\par
for they are not responsible for what they are\par
but the ecstasy of an aged lord\par
who has lavished his learning on them\par
and made them the specimens of the highest art.\par
ANT\par
Never heard you speak so sweet\par
until now on any subject\par
which easily causes me to suspect\par
some deep dent in ourselves\par
which cause us to speak so sweet\par
of the opposite-sex -\par
but because I too am male\par
I agree with every bit you say\par
but I wonder whether your wife would agree\par
you speaking so highly of her type\par
without her picture in your mind\par
forgetting she was a maiden too once\par
though her present may betray her past.\par
But what caused her to loose her gift\par
for which you have so great a regard.\par
G.P.\par
You are once again mixed in the head, my friend\par
for precision is philosophy's eye\par
and its instrument the needle-head\par
and when I point the maiden name\par
I refer to an age, not sex\par
but to your joker-eyeglass all appear same\par
and when I point at a doe\par
you a dinosaur see.\par
ANT\par
Well - may be I am not at all precise\par
but the old doubt again occupies my mind\par
whether what we see truly is\par
and should we believe what we see as true?\par
Because though maidens enamour me too\par
I know a slight excitation in eye or brain\par
can electrify the things we see\par
and take in pictures so deep as to think\par
that the things in themselves are impressive\par
while it's we are impressionable.\par
G.P.\par
You are of the type my friend\par
who brood over insolvable things\par
and cry their doubt again, again, again\par
and who because they couldn't solve\par
draw cynic's eyeglass on what's clear\par
and darken and blur all that's seen\par
and give judgements of such abnormal kind\par
that it is a criticism without end\par
and an aim-lost, blundering argument\par
whose only intent if there can be\par
is to disturb wisdom's clear waters\par
testing its tranquil depth with a dilettante's oar.\par
I said this about your flip remark\par
about my wife when of maiden's worth I spoke\par
and that makes me disregard\par
even the profound questions you put\par
for frivolity tires a serious life's zest\par
and when without humour, just tries the patience.\par
But I am acting an angry fool\par
and it's not your remark\par
but something else in my heart\par
which is making me pounce over you\par
and this I think supplements the remark\par
about the cause being internal.\par
ANT\par
Oh, I was half-afraid until you ended with those words\par
and you are a teacher so remarkable\par
that makes an experiment of relationship\par
and mesmerizes his pupil to search\par
an answer which he himself asked\par
like someone who involves himself in game\par
and yet watches from afar\par
and gains at once the experience\par
and the spectator's objective sight.\par
G.P.\par
Your praise borders on flattery, my friend\par
for you exaggerate things so much\par
that you make a master of me\par
and a pupil of yourself.\par
But what we see and sense\par
happens, doubtless, inside us\par
but if it makes beauty beautier\par
why complain? In matters aesthetic\par
doubt's a worm, which gnaws off picture whole\par
and leaves tatters behind.\par
SO think of beauty as wedded to the mind\par
either mind carries beauty or beauty herself\par
and the trust of each enriches the other\par
and here is no place for the jealous observer.\par
ANT\par
Beauty is a giddy stuff\par
and this little knowledge is so much help\par
for though maidens may still give me swooning fits\par
they cannot torment me any further\par
for I will learn to think of them\par
as phantoms of my mind strutting by\par
and of phantoms as maidens in me\par
so no bother.\par
G.P.\par
Friend you remind me of the warrior\par
who was so brave\par
that he dared hallucinations as life\par
and lost himself in joy so high\par
that he faced windmills like the wind\par
and became the sunshine on the plain\par
which were but deserts without him.\par
But everyone seeing him from outside\par
felt his life torturous\par
and found that they could only laugh\par
when they realized his madness unpitiable\par
for they could still sense in him\par
a maniac\rquote s delight\par
which was not of this world\par
and it was only laughter\par
which saved him\par
and such was his trust\par
that none disbelieved him\par
and found in him the cause\par
of all their smiling lips\par
which couldn\rquote t cry only because\par
of his insane belief.\par
ANT\par
Sir, I don\rquote t know what to make of your words\par
but it\rquote s not your words but belief itself\par
which so perplexes me\par
for many times I have seen airy maidens on road\par
and have followed them like one catching dreams\par
and have felt so harassed\par
by this belief grown beyond myself\par
that I don\rquote t believe your warrior was a happy man\par
in warring with unreal things like that.\par
G.P.\par
You are so young and yet\par
You have been through things\par
And your forehead is stamped with that spirit\par
Which make everyone look you in awe.\par
And now when you call the unreal\par
A harassment, I perfectly understand you\par
But that torment is the torment of doubt\par
His way was one of perfect belief\par
For he mingled like rain mingles with light\par
And created the rainbow.\par
ANT\par
Sir, we often loose sight of truth\par
And yet queerly find them in the different form\par
Of comparison.\par
The rainbow was in the light\par
And had to break out through the rain\par
But his phantoms were one of mind\par
Which fluttered into the soul of things\par
And awakened them to a timeless state\par
With the shadows of what had been\par
He surely is like the summer rain\par
Through whom dance the colours\par
Of the self-same light.\par
G.P.\par
And who can bear the whiteness of light\par
Beating hot upon our brow\par
Such light is but blindness\par
Which cannot with her tranquil shades show\par
The gentle flow, the subtle change\par
With which things keep themselves alive\par
And a little madness we require\par
And a sharp cone of neurotic light\par
Which would help us distinguish\par
The diamond from the tinsel shine\par
Because the arc-lights of social stage\par
Reveres fanatics who leap up in rage\par
And fool around for claps and cheers\par
Of people grown silly in crowd\par
To rave a silliness drowned in glare and sound\par
Which bombard their hearts to evoke\par
Some strained emotion and force low squeals\par
To attain a catharsis\par
In a frenzy that emptiness surrounds\par
Straining private juices for public ribaldry\par
And then guard what\rquote s lost with smirks\par
Like a whore who lets the wild hunk\par
Commit violence on her sacredness\par
And then calls that outrage a joy \endash\par
They miscall their ravishment their fun\par
And wear the medal of honour over shattered hearts.\par
But our warrior on the horse\par
Cannot stoop low at all\par
For so mean and base a delight.\par
Blows and injuries mar not his height\par
And like a vigilant tower perpetually stands\par
While worm-like ill-delight slip by his feet\par
And he creates opponents with his dream\par
And wrestles with them when none succeed\par
To stand upon two tottering legs\par
And face his lonely might.\par
ANT\par
So good you speak of this warrior\par
That sometimes I guess\par
It\rquote s because he no more is\par
And the dead often receive this praise\par
With a serene indifference\par
Like marble graves which receive blooms\par
Of flowering trees which blow\par
Accidentally there.\par
But your regard and intent\par
I understand, for you are another lamb\par
Lost in this jungle of wolves\par
Which should remember a noble soul\par
For courage in this lonely way\par
Where companions are but dreams\par
And the startling hallucinations\par
Of a weary traveller.\par
But a more privileged feller am I\par
Who can fill himself with the real joy\par
Of a maidens smile\par
And just not chase vain dreams\par
As they temptingly pass by.\par
G.P.\par
Friend, the really privileged\par
Speak of them not\par
But you are like those underpaid\par
Who speak of their weekly bonus\par
To cover up what they have lost.\par
I am sometimes the gladdest\par
For the goddess of wisdom\par
Has made me her man\par
Now when the maidens pass\par
I only flinch in pain\par
Lest I cause my sober babe some grief\par
By smiling at them.\par
That\rquote s the sorrow of marriage\par
It ties you to a joy\par
Which fends off others with a grimace.\par
ANT\par
Probably it\rquote s your faith in depth\par
Which makes you scorn\par
Our vaster field of flowery joy\par
Which appears trivial to the mole\par
And paltry perhaps to the eagle\par
But is heaven for butterfly.\par
The best sport is that\par
Of which I am the master,\par
And every creature has the right\par
To say so.\par
Because each joy attained\par
Is ten sacrificed\par
And each wants make it up\par
With his pride.\par
G.P.\par
The mediocre find solace\par
In mediocrity\par
But he who has felt the pulse\par
Of his deeper self\par
Strives to dance to that inner music\par
And his joy is one created\par
Not bought\par
And does very well without\par
The crutch of empty pride\par
On which you all scant-of-joy\par
Depend.\par
ANT\par
The ordinary, I agree\par
Are almost always healthy\par
In their free-breathing pride\par
But our span composed of different worlds\par
Waits our difference to accept\par
Offering a new wilder birth\par
Asking us only to enter\par
And be possessed by existence.\par
G.P.\par
Well, you are clever friend\par
In matters of mutual consolation\par
For you are the kind which stands between\par
And measures the worth of both\par
And knows the market-value of each\par
But not its value in you\par
Or how deep you can reach\par
Into the heart of things.\par
But you must, as you said\par
Take in different things\par
To become whole-bodied\par
Like a bear,\par
Until the vast woods saturate you\par
To your own favorite cave.\par
ANT\par
Yeah, one gets caught\par
In one\rquote s own web\par
And begins to see\par
Little mistakes in all\par
With a paranoiac\rquote s necessity\par
But it is unfair sir of you to blame\par
Me always of superciliousness\par
It may be justice to your art\par
But for me \endash sheer intolerance.\par
When you dread, you desire\par
But when you want you\rquote ll have\par
So why grow curious in hate\par
And desirous beneath the frown\par
Which breeds want and hostility\par
But deprives one of \endash both.\par
G.P.\par
Well, the hungry search in solitude\par
While the sated join the crowd in cheer\par
You can\rquote t the alter the way you enjoy\par
Until joy alters your ways\par
Of search\par
Your mirth might occasionally charm\par
But of a more momentous occasion\par
- I am the charm\par
My ego is my guide\par
And I defend him\par
In pride. \par
\i Copyright 2004 Ankur Prahlad Betageri\f2\par
\pard\i0\f3\fs20\par
}
