A Romantic Clown

June 24, 2015 Ramu Das 2 Comments

A tramp, I move here and there.
Take my words and don’t look me up and down,
I am not a romantic hero, I’m a romantic clown.
And I fear I will never reach anywhere.

While passing by I may lend you a helping hand.
When beguiled, all my possessions I may gladly share,
And, what’s more, even my love for you I may declare!
Can then I hope in rainy days you will by me stand?

But, ah, you flout my feelings and you seem suspicious
A tramp, a romantic clown, I keep on moving here and there,
I’m not a substantial man now you know and I’m not religious.
Anew I begin my journey but I fear I will never reach anywhere.

SATIRE AND HUMOR, VIEWS AND OPINIONS

Doing It

June 20, 2015 Ramu Das Leave a comment

Rainfall in Mumbai is always late. Once, however, it starts raining here, the downpour is massive and incessant, so much so that most of the activities of the city comes to a standstill. Mumbaikers are used to such show of the weather, and we accept what we can’t change.

The moment I got in the train and sat down by the window seat (which when vacant I greedily capture), waiting for the train to move, it started raining. In a few seconds, the water gushed forth from the roof of the train station. With displeasure I made a snap decision and rose from the seat and began moving to the other side of the seat where the rain water could not touch me, could do me no harm. I almost sat on the other side of the seat when I saw what a person – who sat opposite the window seat where I was sitting – was trying to do, and changed my mind instead. I realized my mistake.

The man was trying to pull the windowpane down, and he was having some trouble doing it because he was a feeble man and the window, rarely being lubricated or pulled down, was jammed. I lent him a helping hand and together we pulled the pane down, thus saving our good selves and the seats from getting watered. The drops were heavy; one could distinctly make out the thud-thud-thud sound that the falling rain drops made.

This is but a minor experience I am narrating, but then, I do believe, major things start from minor things; there are many other instances (minor and major) where we can do it. The choice is always yours. You can either do it or you can, like many others, back off.

P.S.: It seems like the lifeline of Mumbai (the trains) have now taken the form of ships; be it by water or land or air, we will continue going to office nevertheless. While some of the vehicles are freely and naturally washed, some of them are washed away. Would you care to join us in the largest theme park ever? It’s free! It’s free!

Poems

A Damsel Once Found Me Interesting

June 17, 2015 Ramu Das 2 Comments

Much to my surprise a damsel once found me interesting,
And did all the things that a lover tends to do
Tried to understand my joy and my woe
One thing led to another, and our thoughts kept linking.

On my part I was quite unclear from the start,
If she knew lust from love; then which was she truly implying?
However, the validity of her love I refrained from questioning
And let the artist have a free hand on her art.

As days went by, my suspicion grew stronger and stronger
And like Sherlock I began reasoning,
Drew a conclusion and began wondering
How in plain words to her shall I my thoughts decipher.

After a while, as it very often happens,
The affair took a gloomy turn
And nothing of her old love remains
And her memories now I burn.

Poems

Hidden Moon

June 12, 2015 Ramu Das 2 Comments

Till yesterday, O Moon, you were within the sight of my eyes,

But today why have you hidden yourself behind the clouds?

Do I ail you, dear Moon, or is it a signal of a change in the weather?

VIEWS AND OPINIONS

Abandoned

June 7, 2015 Ramu Das 2 Comments

Imagine this picture: two boys in the compartment of a train, one older and taller than the other, both skeleton-like, two bowls in small hands, no shirts on, torn half-pants, broom attached on a thread in the waist which (that is, the broom) they use for swiping the floor of the train. They are begging for money and food. Look at their eyes and you will see no glint of hope in them, not for survival. Yet they are living… with no hope.

At the most he could be six years old, and his brother, whom he carried clasping in his arms, could not be more than three years. Their very sight evoked pity, but many a man and woman, rich and handsome and beautiful, upon casting the first glance at the two boys, turned their eyes and heads in disgust. “Oh, poor creatures,” a woman sighed but not so much as part with a rupee. “Come, come,” her husband called her, “come and sit in the seat when it is empty and leave the poor creatures to their fate.”

What one could not see, however, was the love the older brother shared for his younger one. What obligation had the older one to carry the younger one and look after? He was the older brother, of course, and he knew he was responsible for his younger brother, he knew he had a moral duty here. Is it not wonderful how a six-year-old boy could so well understand his responsibility, while his parents, whoever they maybe, living or dead, have abandoned, even society, that crazy breed, seems merciless.

No doubt, a few good Samaritans are doing whatever they can to help such unfortunate children live good/better lives, but the larger proportion of the society is fine with the tag “human being” and not “being human”.