Re: [ZESTPoets] tributes to a warrior

Tue, 22 Nov 2005 23:00:48 -0800

Excellent poem!!
 
Reading through this, I could see my own father in it- a warrior who has fought with life all the while, raising two daughters with no son, that too... this thing about suppressed ego is so, so, true! I have tried to express this alienation that I have experienced with him in myown poem, "TO DADDY"...
 
Anyway, Thanks for sharing such a lovely poem, Indira! 
 
:) Vidya.


Indira Babbellapati <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
tributes to a warrior
 
displaced by his daughters
from the town on the river bank
where he was somebody
in the crowd
with all good intentions
of caring for the old man…
 
a hero in his own right and might
he battled with the world
as a father of four daughters
and no sons
by the middle of the last century
he was an object of sympathy
for being a father
not of one or two
but of four daughters
himself never felt the pinch though
except in his later years...
 
one who stood steadfast
by all the four
loving, caring, doting
on each in a special way
chocked himself
at the thought of no son
so much that he often
threatened the aging helpless wife
that he’d leave the house
unable to bear in his old age
his daughters’ self-reliance
that he himself nurtured in them
their confidence was more bitter to him
than the umpteen pellets
he forced himself to swallow
the daughters continued
to revere him love him live for him
after all he patiently bore with them
as they shaped their own destinies
 
over a decade
he moved away
from life.
seeped himself
in his unlit chambers
sometimes the fragrance
of a forgotten era
wafted by
and the distant river
so much part of him
for over half a century
gently caressed him
with its refreshing spray
 
once in a way
he ascertained
his suppressed ego
to complain of neglect
once in a away
he lightly brushed against death
and warned his family
that he needed medical attention
with a heart winded
he’s always sent back
like a clock winded
to be fixed
in the faded bamboo basket
in the balcony facing the road
dozing in it endlessly
there he sipped
his tea and the dripping saliva
a grandchild or wife
reminding him to secure his lungi
 
a decade and half
of displacement and alienation
abruptly unexpectedly
came to a halt
with the words
‘i think i’m going’
in the middle of a conversation
with wife and the youngest daughter
to flow into the mighty sea…                                                            
 
      
05nov 2004(eight months after father bade us good-bye)

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