Tragedy of the Century

My Weekend Poems# 6

Tragedy of the Century  

When Death Lost Dignify

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Sorry, I am sorry – very sorry

seek apology – beseech apology – implore apology

beg – pray: apologise, please apologise.

 

You had surrendered your holy possession

the life in your body, soul to liberate

keeping the trust in me

to have your corpse

just for a funeral.

 

You were kind and considerate

with ever welling passion for me

to lit and fuel my life -

learning from you:

dignity for dead.

                             

But sorry, I am sorry – very sorry

I tried, tried with intensity,

intense intensity, and more intensity

begging, begging and still begging

for a crematorium space to lit your pyre.

 

Refused – rebuked – scolded, without let

I had to carry you on, on and on

crematorium to crematorium

here, there – there and there

for my duty to lit your pyre.

 

Sorry, I am sorry – very sorry

for you had died of Corona:

shrouded - body bagged in plastic

and defined: untouchable for funeral

to find no place - no face – no space.

                                                     

Oh! Father you lie sealed motionless

on the Earth, shrouded facing the Sky

I, zipped in a PPT kit run hither and thither

between the Earth and the Sky

to find a space to make a pyre for you.

 

I do not lose resolve to lend you dignity

but, Ah! my body, on the run, simmers in my kit

in hot pursuit in a hot scorching summer day   

on cold still tracks, wishing to find a crematorium -

but, sorry, I am sorry for my inability to hold.

 

I shout, I cry, I wail for a pyre

I yell, I scream, I howl for water -

neither for you, my father, I find a pyre

nor do I find a mouthful of water for me

father, you go longing for fire, and I for water.

                                                     

I know my father, you are exhausted

so am I dehydrated and consumed

even sun is, now to set, to call it a day

thus, I leave my body to come to you

father, hold me close, very close, quite close.

                                                    

I was not let, give dignity to your death, Here

I promise – promise, faithfully promise

to lend you dignity There

now I am not sorry, beseech no apology

for I come to you, to escort you, to take care of you.

 

Please don’t lose trust in me, my father

today, on this father’s day - Here

I had nothing to wish and say

for, Here, the man is dead, death not to dignify

so, I accompany you, be sure, very sure- There

We will have Father’s day together to cheer.

 

Arvind Shah ©0622

(This poem was written by me on father’s day; based on the fact when two sons carrying the corpse of their father died searching a crematorium for the last rites of their father: Jammu)