Bijay Kant Dubey

Who Is A Satirist? - Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Who is a satirist, how the satire of his, laughing at, mocking at critically
At man and his manners, the urban and rustic man and their manners,
Uncouth and villagery, townsmanly and urban,
Just like a mocking man, a critical fellow
Smiling, laughing and joking and reading
To comment upon, taunt upon
Foibles and frailties
Out of envy, hatred, malice or vengeance
Or with a mission on to correct them,
Those evils and what it ails society.

The art of satire, his art and excellence
Which he excels in with so much nicety,
The art of satire which he goes perfecting
And adding to,
The satirist knows it well the usage and application of his words,
The words he picks for his language,
Poetic idiom and vocabulary
As for revealing these, penetrating into,
Comments and criticism,
As satire too is a criticism of life,
You accept it or not,
No mean art and craftsmanship is satire.

Now-a-days the number has lessened
Of that of commentators and critics of man and his manners
As because they grew too much worldly, earthen and mundane
Full of so much small things and oddities, comments and criticism,
Not good, but bad and lowly criticisms,
But satire is joke plus good critique,
You know it not, I know it not,
Satire is life, satire is its spirit, the spirit of life,
No life with satire and the satirist a guardian.

The critic too is a satirist and if he is not, he is not a good critic
To be called and assessed as thus,
As because loose things cannot be taken for granted
And need to be commented upon,
One who pleases everybody pleases none,
The critic has to be of a stout heart,
Daring to take on the backlash or the feedback
For his attempt and trial.

Long, long ago villagerly clowns, jokers and announcers
Used to be with the laughing stock,
To lessen the trouble and tension of life,
Pigmies and eunuchs used to engage the centrespace,
Loafers too engage it but spoil it on the way
As for street-roaming and out of mind talks,
Leading to pleasure sake merely
And if this can be as such, what more to say to?

Satire is the criticism of life and the satirist a critic of man and his manners,
As he knows it what it is satire, what it the art of satire and satirists,
How the matters and materials of it,
As it is the spice of life
Without which you cannot cook,
You may not have the taste
Which seek you to test,
As it keeps invigorating,
Infusing spirit and enthusiasm,
When puff you with pride, it punctures your tyre.

The double-speak of the ironists is not, upping and downing,
Making one climb up the tree and getting down too,
Not the job of the satirist,
As are they direct and pointed in their attacks,
Never behind, placing the knife from the behind,
Torturing, harassing, heckling,
Pinning, perforating,
Speaking in undertones and overtones
They never do it,
Only the ironical fellows do it the double-speaking.

The fool, the rustic and the clown too have the laughing stock of their own,
But they lack in refinement and polish,
Concept and novelty of expression
And degrade and degenerate into lowly
For being merely foolhardies, blockheads and countrified folks
And even be that, they are merely concerned with the lighter aspects of life
And the world, going lightly, taking lightly,
But the satirists brave and daring in their attacks and bombardment,
Bombarding but marking the avoidable casualties.

I had not been a satirist, but have become
As they forced me to be,
And thank God, it has been blessed with
The profundity of Your Divine Providence and its observance
Otherwise I could not have marked man and his manners.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, August 8, 2013

Poem Edited: Wednesday, August 28, 2013

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