Under Renovation Poem by Ananta Madhavan

The world is a vast artifice,
Constantly under renovation.
Was it ever ‘brand-new'? I wonder.
Fresh from the Hand of God or
Force we may call ‘Nature' or ‘Almighty',
Too vast for vision, telescopic, horoscopes;
Something beyond blueprint, plan and permit.
This is the world we inherit.

We are the architects of its demolition,
Gnawing at the core, or bit by byte.
And we are also the artisans of change
In countless divisive nooks and corners.

Are we builders or destroyers?
Life is a heritage that we do not care
Enough to save and conserve.
Gone is its pristine freshness, its new-smell,
The daily thrill of discovering
The Ever-lasting novelty of Now.

A toddler might perhaps look up
And envision tall and taller adult faces,
The blur of trees, palettes of nameless hues,
The sky-blue, red sari, the scent of jasmine
On the hair of that kindly adult, Mother dear.

We cannot live it all, but each one has an ambit
To wonder and ponder.

- - - - - - 2017