The Shadow and The Substance

K. V. V. SUBRAHMANYAM

We are a nation of bores
Always talking of ancient lores
All hypocrisy and cant to height soars
But to daring deeds we have closed our doors.

Austere and hermit-like we seem in garb
But in words and deeds there will be many a barb;
Colour and pomp we publicly abhor
Which in heart of hearts we do not debar.

Simple and humble is our public image
But show and ego in reality do us damage;
To be true to one’s own self
Would mean shedding of pelf.

We spend our days in grumbling and mumbling
Of things we don’t have and do mere fumbling;
When asked of what we want
Never come to the point, we rave and rant.

We chase the eternal will-o-the-wisp
Without attempting problems within our grasp;
We know not to relax or to work,
And labour we would rain shirk.

On holidays in our offices we toil
And others’ pleasure we foil;
We boast of being overworked and tired,
Seek encomiums and to be admired.

While on duty we laze around
Collecting before us files as a mound;
When will we learn to be business-like and sound
With achievements to our credit to redound?

On playing-fields we lack daring deeds
Not because we lack praises in meeds;
The will to win and guts to conquer
Is less than lotus-eating and langour.

Where is the messiah to put into us heart and soul,
For us ‘to sleep not, stop not until we reach the goal?’
We have had savants and saints of hues diverse
As mere momentary impulses and ripples in rivers.

We may dress our windows and frontages
Utter shibboleths of vintage adages,
Despite their efforts to have an authentic ring,
They can never replace the real thing.