I am extremely happy to report that my first book of poems, I Witness—Partial Observations, has done reasonably well. Luckily, all the senior staff of the science and technology ministry (of which I was then Union minister) picked up a copy, helping sales. But despite this my wife Promila wasn’t quite impressed. “Kapil, your poems have to have gravitas,” she said. “You have to do better than (here she quoted the one I wrote on my Blackberry) ‘Nano tubes/in nano pores/ Nano tech/in nano stores/Nano thoughts/of nano brains. A plethora/of nano claims.’ Why, people may think you are Ratan Tata’s PR consultant with all those nanos.” Well, I admit there is some truth to this. I remember reading somewhere (was it Wordsworth?) about poetry being the spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions recollected in tranquility. To be frank, given my schedule, tranquility is a tad elusive. And spontaneous overflow only happens when I fail to tie my laces at the first attempt and say “damn”. The four-letter word, surely, doesn’t qualify as poetry.
Anyway, all kinds of people have been offering me advice on how to improve my poetic skills. Lalooji even suggested I write on ‘fools-cap’ and not on the ‘white or black berry’. “That way, Kapilji, you will habe isspace,” he said. This is ditto of what my wife and several friends have suggested. So here I am, for better or verse, trying to play a true bard. And let me, without much ado, share my first effort on foolscap:
November’s the kindest month/gifting ministries out of the blue/ mixing fortune and desire/breeding new power centres for a lucky few.
Ahh! there I was happy with ministries two/HRD, science and techno/When missive cometh that Raja’s gone and telecom’s mine too!
On that fateful November day remembered I/An April meeting in the year gone by/Twenty score and 10 kms ride did I in a cab/To meet three sages in a cavern in Punjab/Throw light on my future, quoth I to the holy men/Tell me, election will I win? Or will I endeth in dustbin?
“Hoi! Kapil, minister of HRD,” the trio pronounced in unison as they stirred the dal in the cauldron/ “Hoi! Kapil minister of science and tech,” they spoketh again, adding dhaniya leaves/ “Hoi! Kapil who shall be telecom minister thereafter,” sayeth they waiting with the tadka.
Stood I in the cave befuddled and mystified/ Sages, I enquireth, doth thou read the bard?
“Puttar,” thundereth they in Punjab da tongue, “talkest thou of Shakespeare? Well, with careful ear listen, mortal! Tales 38 we shareth with him/38 plays doth he write/ Telleth thou to the entire globe we art the real Shakespeare, not he....” And lo the sages vanished! Leaving the world to darkness, the cave and me....
(Incidentally, Promi felt this was an improvement though it sounded like something “she’d read before”. Well, I confess there is a familiar ring to it. But when our films and songs are all inspired, then why not some inspired poetry?)
(As imagined by Ajith Pillai)
