Sunday, 29 January 2006

the thespian

man is but an actor
the world is but his stage;
his life moves along a dynamically changing vector
with every new act, he changes his rampage.

because his reputation is oft black and tainted
he employs make up artists to help portray it as a mirage;
and with his face gaily painted
he presents to the outside, a clean, white visage.

he dons long silk cloaks
to cover his torn tattered rags;
and to make a fool of common earthly blokes
he struts, cries, laughs and brags.

playing the part of the protagonist
he thrills the audience with martial art skills;
he beats up hordes of terrorists
and woos his princess with vibrant frills.

with her, he then gets into an alliance
that ends in holy matrimony;
wherein she looks for his faith and reliance
culminating in divorce with loads of alimony!

after years of putting up with his spouse
where she plucks his hair and sucks his verdure;
he reaches a stage where he is reduced to a louse
and is left with no option but her murder.

after committing the henious crime
as a mean villain he is projected;
and in the cull he scrapes through the ravages of time
after he is condemned and mercilessly arrested.

the scene changes to the court room : a great big trial
complete with a judge, a jury and an audience;
despite his cries he is awarded with poison in a vial
he shatters seeing happy people, who cant feel his grievance.

publically ashamed, ridiculed and hated
the world leaves him to rot, after fulfilling it's fetish;
the actor cant help but call himself ill fated
and wait for the time when his life he has to relinquish.

amidst a million people, in a crowded market scene
he is made to stand atop a high podium;
as the sour poison and his taste buds intervene
he shifts into a chaotic state of delirium.

bit by bit, slowly but surely
the venom seeps into his heart;
his tongue dries and speech goes surly
he can sense the appraoch of the end of his part.

his head is reeling with flashes from the past
to hold onto anything he desperately tries;
but he breathes his last
alas! he silently dies.

the world is happy, people exult
and for his great crime, the man is deemed punished;
satisfied with the exciting result
they go back to the comfort of their homes, all clean and furnished.

but there remains one man, in the market place
frantically pacing, lonesome and dreary;
thinking and pondering, with a frown on his face
he just wont stop, though his legs have grown weary.

he wonders why the man was blamed, why his life was claimed
when he was just playing a part, dictated by a script;
doing what he was bid to do by a playright so acclaimed
when he wasnt in control of the wire on which he tripped .

as a statement of conclusion,
on his epitaph, I would like to state;
'we are sorry for the intrusion
we wish we could give you another chance, with a clean slate,

on which you can write your own destiny,
and choose your own path, be it full of hatred or extol;
so you live your life full of joy, cheer and festivity
and totally free of a playwrite's control.'

1 comment:

Rohit said...

Hi Samir.....
Truly we all can write our own destiny.. Hope u carve the best one one for yourself...