Travails With My Aunt Poem by Subroto Chatterjee

[This poem describes an acquaintance of mine, an elderly lady, pompous, self-opinionated, but interesting, when in full flow! ].

My aunt holds court,
Nay: she deigns to pontificate.
Aye, she moves people and sallies forth.
Oh, she doesn’t talk, she excoriates.

Hapless mortals reined in by decree
Greenhorns smarting in her dismissive glare;
Intellectual freedom is no longer free;
Under my aunt’s maternal care.

Tis said that those who practise, do;
And those who don’t, teach.
God knows what my aunt does too,
Does she practise, or does she preach?

One thing I’d say in her case:
She scatters pollens of wisdom;
To those victims who’d love to race,
Would surely run for freedom!

My aunt dispenses great names with ease;
Indeed, she is great, is she not?
While others might think as they please,
She’s all that we’ve got.

Her opinions on the hoi-polloi seldom waver;
She’s always at pain to explain her stand;
While the situation may seem graver,
Her models are colorful and grand.

So I tell my aunt: Be humble and be kind,
For it never hurts to be nice;
I’m sure your subjects wouldn’t mind,
If you do partake in this advice!


Copyright © SC
10th April 2007
Mumbai.