Something is amiss in the nation when its poet is in pain. Our poet and essayist Keki Daruwalla. Of a Heart of Darkness he writes today in The Indian Express (July 20, 2017). Perhaps, poet Jawaharlal Nehru, if he was around would have read the essay; perhaps, called Keki Daruwalla and talked to him. Said a Sorry. These times have no graces. Absent decencies. Daruwalla writes: 'We have been having a mournful feast of words recently. ...But all this is so broad brush......Junaid Khan, a handsome fifteen-year-old boy going for his Eid shopping was killed because he wore a skull cap, looked like a Muslim and horrors, was a Muslim.... Nothing subverts like lynch law.' Me bet is none will bother. Me may come across a bhelpuri wala packing bhel in a newspaper cone bearing Keki essay; after bhel munching, will crush the paper cone, litter the road. Since Babri Masjid, India is a kabaristan for Muslims; since 2014, Dalits and poor share the underground. Economic growth statistics will not reflect the mishaps; nor me bother. Bharat Mata ki Jai is a must, a Bharat Mata disowning Muslims, Dalits and poor. In her collection of poems, Learn from the Almond Leaf, Eunice de Souza says: '..Mrs.V beats her husband. The churchman says: Into every life, a little rain must fall.' Rain drops are not descending, poetess. A Hindu woman falls in love with a Muslim man; marries him; becomes a Muslim; has a child; her relatives slaughter her husband; a news item, a lead item for the night sub in The Indian Express. Over. She will cry; her tears will dry; life will be a fry. Are we being fair to ourselves? We check our Aadhaar cards before starting a friendship. For business papers and business channels and business journalists (me was one for 37 years), news is a drop or a rise in GDP; Chinese investments with Chinese keen on dollars to make and nothing else; RBI governors and Finance Ministers make sense. Long time ago anchors on a business channel raised a toast to the Sensex crossing some important number. It was a public show. Eunice is a poet not a journalist, not surely a business journalist. Business journalists may like her line: ' A compound full of silver cars. The sky with not a single silver star.' Dislike her lines: Finally, the Lord said: Move that damned highrise. Let there be light.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Keki is hurting
Something is amiss in the nation when its poet is in pain. Our poet and essayist Keki Daruwalla. Of a Heart of Darkness he writes today in The Indian Express (July 20, 2017). Perhaps, poet Jawaharlal Nehru, if he was around would have read the essay; perhaps, called Keki Daruwalla and talked to him. Said a Sorry. These times have no graces. Absent decencies. Daruwalla writes: 'We have been having a mournful feast of words recently. ...But all this is so broad brush......Junaid Khan, a handsome fifteen-year-old boy going for his Eid shopping was killed because he wore a skull cap, looked like a Muslim and horrors, was a Muslim.... Nothing subverts like lynch law.' Me bet is none will bother. Me may come across a bhelpuri wala packing bhel in a newspaper cone bearing Keki essay; after bhel munching, will crush the paper cone, litter the road. Since Babri Masjid, India is a kabaristan for Muslims; since 2014, Dalits and poor share the underground. Economic growth statistics will not reflect the mishaps; nor me bother. Bharat Mata ki Jai is a must, a Bharat Mata disowning Muslims, Dalits and poor. In her collection of poems, Learn from the Almond Leaf, Eunice de Souza says: '..Mrs.V beats her husband. The churchman says: Into every life, a little rain must fall.' Rain drops are not descending, poetess. A Hindu woman falls in love with a Muslim man; marries him; becomes a Muslim; has a child; her relatives slaughter her husband; a news item, a lead item for the night sub in The Indian Express. Over. She will cry; her tears will dry; life will be a fry. Are we being fair to ourselves? We check our Aadhaar cards before starting a friendship. For business papers and business channels and business journalists (me was one for 37 years), news is a drop or a rise in GDP; Chinese investments with Chinese keen on dollars to make and nothing else; RBI governors and Finance Ministers make sense. Long time ago anchors on a business channel raised a toast to the Sensex crossing some important number. It was a public show. Eunice is a poet not a journalist, not surely a business journalist. Business journalists may like her line: ' A compound full of silver cars. The sky with not a single silver star.' Dislike her lines: Finally, the Lord said: Move that damned highrise. Let there be light.
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