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An evocative poem with an epical sweep – from mythology to contemporary politics of war and aggression – by Subramanian, exclusively for Different Truths.
The city is a clichéd rebirth or reconstruct of Yayati, the mythical Icon of undying youth. He shrivels, too, and is clouded To see chiselled wrinkles on His face, a nudge to his memory that years do not wait or take his worth. A lone, unpalatable secret he hasn’t learnt is returning to truth, a discovery that baulked him. The world has its own algorithm. The city, too, expends its youthful vigour in one nook before it goes passé, fatigue saps its breath. Its dwellers face the same pulls, to seek, sustain and …succeed for the world is beyond their ken the sparkle and scars of beauty and decay too bitingly transient! Be it an isle, an effervescent city Or a wound ravaged Ukraine The cradle rocks on an unsteady hinge. Yayati seems to breathe on all, rueful water lilies on the placid pond, the rigour mortis of growing.
Poet’s Note: Yayati, the predecessor to the Kuru dynasty a la Pandavas of Mahabharata (Indian epic), is celebrated in exchange for his old age for the youth of his son, Puru, who was revered for his addiction to ethics. His father’s addiction to the world of the sensual made him go through many experiences before wisdom dawned on him. He realised that the world of wealth, women and power had its expiry date.
Picture design by Anumita Roy, Different Truths
