Change Poem by Raj Arumugam

If this goes on I wonder
what shall become of me
I shall become Mr Melancholic, possibly.
Head down, shoe laces loose, part collar in
and part out and belly button missing,
trousers frayed at the bottom and pocket sides
and my thin lips turned down. Mr Melancholic,
after all. A melancholy, an unnamed grief shall eat me
that sit where I will or stand where I will
it shall have its victim bent double
and I shall feel it attack from deep in the pits of my stomach
and incapacitate me. I shall be motionless and helpless
at this possession and melancholy shall lead to depression,
not that I shall know its progress at every stage.
But it shall not be a melancholy
it shall not be a regression
without a rage, an anger. And it shall not
be a fall without vengeance
I shall become The Malcontent;
bearded and rapier in hand
confused between scepticism and cynicism
hovering between good and evil
and easily persuaded to darkness.


And the psychologists and the counsellors
and the sociologists
will analyze me and dissect me and study me.
I shall become the subject of discussion.









(from The Migrant - notes of a newcomer (February 1997- July 1998))