Subramanian explores changing work, identity, and AI’s quiet takeover—his reflections on DifferentTruths.com reveal uneasy, elegiac insight.
Days passed, ever having a masked gleam.
Always a bent ray of unmet yearning
When desire itself dies in a dry throat.
I was aware, wanted to be, in fact,
Of currents in and out of the orbit.
Hopes and the schisms that shaped minds,
Walled them in their own silos.
Until we gingerly towed into the weird pool
Of jobs dripping out of the government portals
Cramming GK, career digest...for a safe bet.
We slipped in some, settled in some space
All a besotted hunt for the ultimate haven
A niche of coveted peace and contented pride
Until the laptop softly hissed of the future perfect.
Then the lanes changed and the shore blurred.
Soon, the laptop took over the lane
Coding new waves of murmur, meanings.
Ordered the day, leaving spasmic nights.
Walk the lane stretching on and on that
Capricious, resilient time rolled.
Our days were gone, foggy to the eye now.
All’s well when it ends well or palpably so!
No sighs where moisture had long gone.
I dare not look back but hear the hastening burr.
The footstep of AI quietly makes its lair.
Picture design by Anumita Roy
K.S. Subramanian has published two volumes of poetry titled Ragpickers and Treading on Gnarled Sand through the Writers Workshop, Kolkata, India. His poem ‘Dreams’ won the cash award in Asian Age, a daily published from New Delhi. He has been featured in MuseIndia. His poems and short stories have also appeared in magazines, anthologies and web sites run at home and abroad. He is a retd. Senior Asst. Editor from The Hindu, India.
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