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.