Me Poem by Vinay Joshi

When I entered
the industrial scene
to enlist in the job,
the holy ashram's keeper
cautioned me against
going for the job
saying, 'You have a
heart of a poet
and there they work
with hammer and steel',
and the year was 1975.

Again, when I did
get inside the industrial precincts,
the elderly official said,
'Why are you coming
into this industrial jungle? ',
then much against
my chagrined heart.

Twenty years thence,
having borne through
many struggles, backstabs
and heart-bleeds,
yet another elderly official
exiled from the seat of power,
told me,
'You are like a flower,
why don't you go for another job? '
(Ironically, he himself
became an exploiting, scheming taskmaster,
when he got the sceptre
in his hands) .

Much water has flown
in the Ganges,
near whose banks I lived,
and many bodies
burnt on its 'Ghats',
the heart
I was born with,
has remained the same,
a poet's heart,
touchy, sentimental
and fiery, at times,
but, never scheming,
plotting and conniving.

Afraid,
one of these days,
I may have to
learn the 'art'
to get my way through
in this world
before I exit.
Should I?

(December 2011)