Meeting Down Cowley, Oxford

A ballad, based on a real-life incident at Oxford, by Prof. Sanjoy, exclusively for Different Truths.

Looking for vegetables and discounts
Major Gregory taps me on the shoulder.
Stands erect like an old bamboo stick
Curved by the weight of years, smile
Broad and arced as the handle, fixed for a while.
‘Are you from India?’ Yes! What can I do...?
‘Dost! I am an Anglo-Indian. Was posted in Madras
During the war time. Now they call it something
Else, I don’t know. Do you understand?
Old wine, old bottle, new label! There is
Something in a name. My tongue
It was which many of you use well,
Give a twist, interweave like palm strips;
Give a welcome luxurious tan. Or, let it go
If it doesn’t help, jars and hurts.
I am ninety-four, and haven't got much time.
My servant, Pondran, saved my life,
Risked his own. I wouldn’t be standing here
Anarchists would have shot me dead. Yes, it’s true!
My servant fought against his countrymen
For me. It was regular, said the other officers.
He could have lost his life to an ebony bullet
For having fought against his own cause
With a golden heart, dirty teeth and black skin.
At this age, I feel more grateful to him
Then anyone else in life. Beloved of the third wife,
I want to give him $ 5000 for risk, loyalty, and love.
Would you carry the money to India and give it
To Pondran? I am too old to travel myself.
Do you know where he lives? I can give you a clue.

Postscript

Pondran was more than twenty years older,
Not likely to outlive his master
And time on tongue and bleary-eyed memory had changed his name.
 

Visual by Different Truths