Not All Is Lost

By Debi Prasad Chatterjee

All is lost? No, not that.

"If I earn more than daily, l'ii feed 

My helpless parents to their hearts content", 

A Platform boy desiderates.

All is lost? No, not that.

"Sir, I have this near the park,"

A rickshaw-puller yields a purse to the police officer.

All is lost? No, not that.

"Come round, I'll wait...", A lover affirms

His acid-burnt beloved.

Time passes its trouble-torn spell:

We're set to say 'lost' 'lost'

We speak more realise not

We care not Keats' beautiful truth

We prefer acting Blake's 'Tyger' to 'Lamb' 

Wordsworth's Daffodils pose weed

Shakespeare is reduced to Macbeth

 Rabindranath's Kabuliwala is a child-lifter

We're prone to invite pessimism

Imaginary fears pose more

Terrifying than real ones

Heads grow over hearts

Bat-fame is akin to match fixing

Goodwill gesture misinterpreted Kargil intrusion

Really it's Eliot's The Waste Land

Beckett's nothingness.

But it's a mere brief spell-

Only a section gloats over it

But we are many

We have platform boys, rickshaw-pullers, Affirmed lovers

And in this millennium they need to thrive 

Things around are really beautiful 

Have spirituality, self realisation

The 'Lamb' must triumph over the 'Tyger.

By Debi Prasad Chatterjee