The Anthropologist's Revelation

The keen anthropologist revealed
The other day, the twenty-first century's

All-governing principle to me.

The grand theory of everything.

He said, "It is the advertisement,
Once the legitimate dreg of papyrus or cheap paper,

The jovial cry of the youthful town-crier,

Now the container of truth and utility.

Smart and suave, it tells fruitfully

The grand story of everything,

All our heroisms and heartiness."

The silent corollary hangs unvoiced in the air :
The anonymous withering slowly, becoming flesh-less,
Less than penniless vacuum.

There's a logic in everything,

Sad or not.

The flow of a sad logic takes the smile

Out of a smiling child.

Like the logic of death and the logic of dying.

Let me go find that anonymous piece of rock, the anonymous story.

But where are they ?

I will pretend to grieve for that dying breed.

Real grief is a lot of work.

And there's enough glamor and glitz
- Forget the booze, tragedies and sad music -
To lose oneself in, anyway.

The Allocation of Humanly Gods

Each man to his own man and brother.
Few Gods to each loving one.

One to the mother who but loved her dear son -
Found the entire creation in him,
gobbled up like candied fun.
Few to the hunter-gatherer who kills, feeds flesh and
fruit to the delight of the brahmin's vegetarian God,
To the children not on their best behaviour
Make sparkling mischief religiously,
The lovers lost in an eternity of each other
forgetting the divine soft moonlight.
To the one out there seeking in the wilderness,
Already wise like the wild.
To all of us onwards on to that one heaven of oblivion
Preserved carefully in our mouths and instruments,
By infinite worshiping hands.

Each mouth instrument hand a God in the crowd.
The Gods upstairs bow to each blessed one.

An Extraordinary Feat

Resist the pull of the pen,

The pull of the deliberating mind,

The pull of the sentimental heart,

Resist. Your very very best might elude.

An extraordinary feat requires an extraordinary effort.

It deserves, demands your soul,

Every drop of blood and oxygen,

All your memories, your everything.

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I inhabit now the immortal soul of my brothers and sisters.

I am now all my people.

My deepest deepest wish has come true.

I will rejoice in pure abandon with my brother and sister.

Pure joy is rarest on Earth.

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The ball sails in an arc most majestic.

I have done it !

My children and friends, We have done it !

With the immense power vested in me -

The power of billion stirring souls,

From their outwardest skins to their hearts' cores -

I will seal this moment forever in my eyes.

See through my eyes.

We are the victors today.

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I am proud of myself today,

Proud of my beautiful body, my deftest hands,

My strongest legs, My sharpest brain, my powerful lungs.

They gave their all. I'll give them my tears.

My unrestrained laughter, my uncontrolled foolish dance.

Right now here now, I'm Alive

In full splendor.

I am the bravest hero.

They shout through me the loudest victory chant.

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I am happy for my sons.

Bravest champions, You gave me

Your sweat and life.

I have asked a lot from you,

Been unkind, loved too much.

Love and too-much-love are blind,

You and I know in our hearts.

You have played the game like the ancient olympians,

Graceful and strong in your gritty sweet victory.

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Wherefore I find words ? Who speaks through me ?

Who gives life to me ?

I have found the answer today.

It is the simple desire of all of me,

My whole head to the tip of my toe,

My innumerable little sweet cells, all my breathing organs,

their deepest wish to live with the head held high,

With no fear in their mind.

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What is the highest purpose of victory ?

My friends and children, It is to find

The fortitude to cleanse oneself,

To bring one's soul to Purity.

My garment needs so much cleaning.

And today on the victory stand,

I vow to find the strength

Somehow.

Today on the victory stand,

I am my people

For a fraction of history.

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PS :Dedicated to India's great World Cup victory in Cricket.