A Poem for Monday

A Letter
-Anthony Hecht

I have been wondering
What you are thinking about, and by now suppose
It is certainly not me.
But the crocus is up, and the lark, and the blundering
Blood knows what it knows.
It talks to itself all night, like a sliding moonlit sea.

Of course, it is talking of you.
At dawn, where the ocean has netted its catch of lights,
The sun plants one lithe foot
On that spill of mirrors, but the blood goes worming through
Its warm Arabian nights,
Naming your pounding name again in the dark heart-root.

Who shall, of course, be nameless.
Anyway, I should want you to know I have done my best,
As I’m sure you have, too.
Others are bound to us, the gentle and blameless
Whose names are not confessed
In the ceaseless palaver. My dearest, the clear unquaried blue

Of those depths is all but blinding.
You may remember that once you brought my boys
Two little woolly birds.
Yesterday the older one asked for you upon finding
Your thrush among his toys.
And the tides welled about me, and I could find no words.

There is not much else to tell.
One tries one’s best to continue as before,
Doing some little good.
But I would have you know that all is not well
With a man dead set to ignore
The endless repetitions of his own murmurous blood.

A wee on the go?

Shiny Happy Pills.

Umar besud katt rahi hai Faiz
Kaash afshaan-e-raaz hojaye

-Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Is it only me, or has everyone else just about had it with the ambiguity and uncertainty in the country? I’d like to think so, because only then would it make perfect sense for my doctor to be A-okay with prescribing me a heavy dose of Lexotanil to combat the stress. Or maybe my doctor was planning for the future, cos these happy pink pills let me sleep through the incessant electricity failures.

But on the other hand, all is not doom and gloom. 200 people can now wear chuddis to work!

Nearly 200 staff at a Hindu temple in southern India have won the right to wear underwear to work.The human rights commission in Kerala state has ordered Sabarimala temple to withdraw a dress code that barred staff from wearing underwear.

The dress code was imposed 10 years ago after several cases of theft.

Wordcount: 0

Every time I try to write something here, I find myself at a loss for words. I am tired, and beyond despondent. It is perhaps the weariness I feel every time I watch a press conference, or read the newspapers. I laugh at the cliches, and the conspiracy theories. I have no words left to describe the misery I see in the faces of those who stand outside my neighborhood utility store, who every morning queue up to buy flour. I look at the scales of justice, not far away from my office, and am reminded that this is only a monument, that justice does not, and perhaps will never exist in this country. I try to reinforce my belief in karma, that whatever goes around, comes around. I have no words left to describe, once again, how fcked up this system is. I used to believe that we, as a nation, had unlimited amounts of patience and resilience. Now, there are daily reports of people committing suicide in the face of poverty.

Faiz, perhaps, said it best: chale chalo, ke woh manzil abhi nahin ayi

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From Pearls Before Swine:

Brain freeze.

You know you’ve watched too many political speeches when your conversations go like this:

Friend: Why do you want your ex to know so badly that you’re with someone else?
Me: Because democracy is the best revenge.
Friend [by now wondering if I've watched Benazir Bhutto speeches on repeat]: WHAT?
Me: Yep, this is not a one-party rule.
Friend: You’re nuts.