To A Retired Bureaucrat Poem by Ajit Das

Still reminiscent of red and blue beacons,
you behave sometimes like a spoilsport,
dragging others into the hay day of your past,
when you were something to gloat about.

And, then, you harbour so many grudges:
no chauffeur driven car, no phone attendant,
endless waiting for the elusive return call,
eyes once competing, now avoiding your face.

A comfortable living, a safety net – you’ve all.
Yet this harking back to what is gone by!
Why not recast life’s glare in a softer hue,
thawing instincts subdued by career-pursuit?

Come out of amnesia, restoring the lost nexus
between genuine self and overarching nature:
benign, beckoning, and live every moment
of the very presence - the bridge into the future.