Nearly forty-weeks of labour,
Three trimesters of increasing pangs,
Anxiety, hopes, desires, and dreams,
And then one fine morning,
In the month of June,
At the Angel Number 666,
The umbilical was finally cut
Between me and my God:
Mother.
Dad said, “He is a Bubble of joy.”
Mom said, “He is the Sun god, Ra.”
The Eleventh Guru
Confirmed the name:
Ravinder or Ravi.
Born in the likeness of God?
Like everyone else?
Ha…
…..and not Ra.
He is…different,
Almost “a maverick.”
Nothing seemed to have
Put him in any known mould.
He can even think
In a world where brilliance
Of learning past knowledge by rote
Counts.
He isn’t just different.
He is evil,
Supercilious,
Egotistical,
Megalomaniac,
Even dangerous.
Actually…..
…..good for nothing.
How can he think
As if he is the only one?
How can he see beyond,
Hear unheard voices?
Travel to places no one dreamt about?
He spurns
Friends, family, society.
We can’t let him live
In a world he calls his own.
He breaks our walls.
He shatters our images.
He is detached, distant, aloof.
Unsociable.
Even anti-social.
It has taken us eons
To build something
We can be proud of:
This society.
This bedrock of civilization.
This paradigm of virtue.
No one,
Not even in the name of creativity
And innovation
Can go beyond.
In our derived and set standards
He is and will always be
A failure..
He will always be…
….good for nothing.
My prayer:
God, in my next life
Don’t give me
A mind that can think,
A heart that can feel.
Just make me a clone,
Of Survival of the Fittest Theory.
And send me on Life’s highway,
Like any other remotely piloted car,
Going generally
In everyone’s direction.
Admired
Loved
Respected
Idolised
Even remembered.
I shall respect all their rules,
And they shall adore me.
From nothingness we emerge,
And into nothingness we go.
But, this way,
The only way,
Tested and tried,
We shall be
Anything, but…
….good for nothing.
Alas.
