A New Man Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

A new man everyday -
getting up in the morning to embrace the sun like never before,
seeing the courtship of the flowers with the bees and the butterflies,
waving at the children some of whom are reluctant to go to school,
having a cup of tea while the sunrays warm me up,
exchanging pleasantries with a eighty-five year old neighbor, who still goes to market without any man by his side, -
yes, all these ordinary scenes that unfold everyday with a new meaning.

I have a habit of visiting inward, a country inhabited by many -
some of them exist; most exist by their non-existence -
the second category being more prominent.
I get a feeling - life must be lived and relived in the company of those unseen and unheard.

I love to live, quietly, far from the questioning eyes, ridiculing me all the time,
or boasting about their own achievements and comparing mine with theirs, thus trying a little lovely bloodshed, if at all, or feeling a little better.

Yes, the world would have been poorer had they not been born, I agree.
The bees, the butterflies - if they had thought similarly!

I visit the country, my own land,
a new man is born every time I am there.