The King Arrives

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And then here's a poem, the cedar in white made me chant it: an instant muse, sort of. How to make a day memorable? When the chill in the air affects the reflex, when the spontaneity evaporates in a prosaic terrain, when the flair refuses to be poetic any longer, one can still compose a poem. The commander jumps into the battlefield with a few willing soldiers but wins the battle. Aha! This is my poem I won in my battle against a poetic block.

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The King Arrives

Everybody knew it save me

The king would visit the town, a sure thing

Give them goodies: pleasure and love

And they all remained awake

The chilly night all through.

They all knew it all along

The king would visit them in their abodes

And how they cherished for the days to come!

And how they waited for the year long!

Save me, I, the lazy soul.

The wind whistled, the cedar bent

The tin trembled, flickered the lamp

The sylvan rumbling blew the trumpet,

With a coat of gloss, sparkled the slate

And billowed the smoke, the sweet intimate.

The primates went silent—

Look! Just going to happen something great

No gamboling permitted, their leader said

The king will visit our town, in no moments

Oh, all the fools keep quiet.

It was just a parade of clouds, thought I

The harmless elements, the December sky

Huh! The wind was up to its antics ancient

Some drizzle on the cards, at the most

My cell phone said it, the weather update.

And it was time I went under the quilt

The drudgery should end for the moment at least

Everything unsolved shelved for the morning

And why? The world must go to sleep with me

Nothing to bother now; it’s just an old routine.

But came the king, the nocturnal bliss bolstered

There was much to be done, the royal onus

Ordered His majesty, the generous king,

Let all in the town, my beloved subjects

Be given white muslin in return of their love.

Look, look how they all love me

All of them are away from their dreams

And how they all welcome me!

All the souls awake and standing

Let all be given their sparkling muslin.

How pure they are, I’m awestruck

All the lovely souls in my kingdom

I’m just so very overwhelmed—

I’m not just the king of cedars

It’s heaven here and I’m the king of yours.

The day dawned,

The quilt abused all night through

Prayed fervently to be left alone

Peeped I the world, through my frosted window

Leaving it behind, the quilt perfidious.

The worthy king had come by night

The high boughs of cedar wore the white,

Now is the reign of white dreams

The cotton candies, the ice-creams

The sky sprinkling the fluffy things

The king generous, the darling king.

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By

A. N. Nanda

Shimla

22-12-2013

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