It is in Indian context..….
A harmless creature
Although whole through the world, a poet is considered as a “harmless creature ” like a rabbit, but another side of the coin is that he is attributed as a “horrible thing” passively. Poets are the eternal truth of our social system. Every person, in his life, once upon a time is supposed to go through this “transitional phase” of being a poet! Even people who are illiterate and can’t read or write a single word, when transit through this phase in life, under the surge they begin crooning of some folk song or melody number of hit cine song.
If we talk of people who are less or more literate, when knock at the threshold of the tender age of teen or adolescence, they certainly apply their hands to jot down some poetry. That may be another fact, because of shyness or being ridiculed they don’t project themselves as a poet. this kind of poetic resurgence often takes a person into grip when at the beginning of the youth he finds himself fallen in love with someone.
About this type of “Romeo”, perhaps the renowned poet of Hindi literature late Jai Shankar prasad has rightly described in a poem, “Virahee hoga pahla kavi, aah se upja hoga gaan.” This simply means, ” a lover with a broken heart is supposed to be first ever poet in the universe and his tormenting sigh is presumed to be the first poetic composition.” That’s a genuine and innocent hypothesis. But in real life, apart from above referred category of poets, there is a class of poets who are born with knacks of poetry entirely. The degrees of “knack” may be less or more. These are people who are “harmless as well as horrible creatures.” In their diurnal life they look innocent , well behaved and most cultured one.
Such type of poets are always gentle in demeanor and in a certitude are part and parcel of some ‘poetic lobby’ or ‘group’ of their own kind. In this group, they use to recite their own original composition or materials gleaned from hither or thither and presenting such plagiarized content as their own composition. Amazingly, their stamina as a reciter or audience to consume such prolonged poetic narration is praiseworthy. But this practice of being a narrator or listener helps create a misconception in their mind that even a layman as a listener or audience too can endure as they can.
Unfortunately, when any such layman (who even in his home unable to resist his wife) gets trapped as an audience to such poet, he encounters the horrific experience of incessant influx of poetry being poured upon him. After suffering from this horrendous torment, he in his rest of the life remains scared by the name of a poet ( even wife does not look so terrible afterwards.)By virtue of myself being friend of some so called ‘poets’, I too had developed a stamina to endure such prolonged poetic recitals. This made me occupy the position as the one of most favorite members of the ‘group, upon whom, they could pour out their poetic frustration.
In the trap
I was not aware that being the member of the poetic group, in near future I was supposed to “encounter the experience of third kind.” They people, on an occasion offered me to join a “poetic soiree” at the place of some wealthy man along with them. The invitation sounded so ‘tempting’ to me since that soiree had an extra offer of scotch whiskey added with delicious non- veg dishes. The temptation was so big, I was an unemployed youth and fond of hard drinks. But they didn’t disclosed the name of that wealthy host.
On the appointed day, I got loaded on the pillion seat of an old modeled, knackered scooter of my poet friend and arrived at the place of the “poetic soiree.” The place was located inside the high walled villa, that was guarded by hooligan like bouncers. Some of them held the leash of ‘ cannibal type’ Alsatian, Doberman and Pit bull dogs in hand. Such dogs earn the reputation to mangle their victim in minutes. Any how, in true sense, up to that time I was greatly impressed by the ‘poetic inclination’ of that rich man who owned the villa. After all, despite himself being such a filthy rich, he had had somewhere in his heart a space for poetry, this sentiment thrilled me.
Once, we were inside, the hospitality of the host began with offering of imported branded whiskey added with soda water. The names of precious brands of whiskey which I just had heard about, I was relishing. The delicious non-veg dishes were being served, everything was enough to satiate me. The place for poetic soiree was the main hall of the villa. There Iranian carpets with cushions and bolsters were placed for the guests. Till that time the host of the party was not shown up. In his absence, the soiree began ( he had sent the message to conduct that.)
All poets voiced their frustration pointing on one another. This all helped creating a soothing air for the further advancement of the poetic soiree. Then an announcement was made, “our distinguished host, who by himself is a renowned poet, is appearing in person.” Even after, the name of the host was not announced. This all was supposed to make his appearance mystical and dramatic. Somehow rich people carry their own coquetting.
With his advent on the scene, his name got announced. No sooner his name got announced as a renowned poet of the day and as a patron of the soiree, I at once felt strong surge to pee inside my trousers. Not only this, whatever costly imported whiskey and delicious food I had consumed, all that got digested in a jiffy. It seemed to me rather I had swallowed the plain water and ate nothing. Host was the most notorious and draconian mafia of the region and still at present on the “most wanted criminals list” of the agencies of the law and order. A good numbers of criminal cases pertaining to rape, attempt to murder, murders and dacoity were pending on his account in various courts of many districts.
He was a ruthless mafia. He extended his hand to a cozy bolster with an attitude and put that under his squat limbs and presented an extremely cheap poetry.All poor creatures ( poets rather free loaders), on the top of their voice, by raising hands in admiration encouraged the host . This flattering admiration sounded into my ears as if a holy cow put under the knife of a merciless butcher and bellowing mournfully for help to save the life. On the insinuation of the host, again drinks of whiskey got served. On being encouraged by this admiration, host discovered a diary from inside his pocket and continued. During his poetic recital, he chanted the poetry of some all time classical renowned poets, by saying, “my recent composition.
In between his recital, he magically now recovered a heavy pistol of forty five caliber and holding that in hand waved that pointing on the heads of the crowd of poets, asked softly, “how you liked my these recent compositions?”His this miraculous gesture of reciting the poetry of some other renowned poets and asking for approval with a waving hand holding a gun, forced all of us to shout madly, “superb sir superb!” Just you suggest me, how could we dare not to applaud his poetic talent? There was no any chance to run off. We were on the gun point, secondly, out there in the yard, terrible dogs along with bouncers waited for us, if tried to escape. The entire night, we all kept ourselves busy in applauding his poetic recital. Penned by– Vinay Pharasi…..
