An imminent trip to a sugarcane mill near Piracicaba,
with my lab colleagues,
warrants an exposition of words
on our own beloved cane !
We shall see the cane being crushed
the hard exterior succumbing to the
enormous pressure that the rollers exert
The cane weeps.
Sugary tears drip from its eyes.
Like Phoenix, the bird which falls into the fire,
Like in olden days, Hindu widows falling into the fire
on the funeral pyre.
The cane with its rich history,
for the mere merry of its owner,
not for one minute becoming selfish
as it yields many a thing for later use:
the bagasse and the vinasse,
the molasses and the pulp,
the heat and the fire,
and caldo de cana and sucrose.
I salute you genderless ‘Cane’
Thou art truly an altruist.
Often Gandhi is quoted
as the symbol of a selfless person.
Need I say that thou shall surpass him.
Human beings have their follies
not have the the notion of selflessness.
Wrote one Mr. Berenson that ‘A complete life may be one ending in so full identification with the non-self that there is no self to die’ !
Syrupy eyes they possess.
Waxy exterior at the nodes
harbour many a flora.
birds and snakes nested in their sharp leaves,
and time has come to find a new home.
The nest dissolved. The eggs broken.
This is life. Nature can be merciless
Despite her enormous bosom
to comfort the ailing beings.
The beauty and the ugliness.
Coexist like day and night.
The factory with its many structures.
A true mark of modern civilisation.
The metals creak and squeal.
A thud here or plonk there.
Workers walking incessantly,
machines working nonchalant.
Many hours of toiling work,
yearning for a pudding and
The body is tired.
It wants to sleep.
The activities continue.
Till the day the sun is alive
and the moon beams hit the earth.