|
His face is ravaged
The body worn and decaying
The gait reduced to a slow shuffle
The sack on his back getting bigger.
The chilly wind ruffles his hair
The blast biting him across the face
His hands are numb, fingers glued tight,
Eyes moist, nose running, below the parka hood.
He is the Time-keeper
Trudging across continents, adding the numbers,
Muttering to himself through the seasons:
“You reap what you sow”.
He is keeping a count, a dossier and a chronicle
A list stretching towards infinity,
Of our misdeeds, chosen path and cruelty
Just before his body gives way.
He has watched us, in horror
Through decades and centuries,
Close to home and beyond the oceans
Ripping the heart out of humanity
Without conscience or compunction,
With barely a nod towards compassion,
But with breathtaking arrogance and disdain
Abandoning enlightenment, the heightened awareness
That befits Man
The rationale that makes us primate kings;
We returned to the dark night
When there was no light,
Only grunts, noises, postures and gestures.
We ravaged, we pillaged
We became beasts,
Putting out the flame of light
Basking in the afterglow of spurious triumph.
Man has feelings;
But he has seemingly none.
He creates beauty
But cuts a swathe through objects of beauty.
Monuments and memorials, timeless edifices;
Rainforests that are a source of natural wonder
Sandstone columns rising out of morning mist
Baroque buildings and gothic churches,
Cathedrals that breathe history
Towers that reverberate with many a story;
Desecration has become second nature to him
He who returns
Time and again,
To the satanic and primeval urges.
We maim and mangle,
We mutilate too.
But that isn’t enough
Our baser instincts propel us forward
Till we go beyond the pale.
We are killing machines
Killing for fun, for a perceived slight or an insult
Killing in anger, in peace-time and in war
In times of truce or cease-fire;
We pull the trigger
Both outside or indoors.
We fire in error
We fire when there is danger;
We fire as natural reaction
Without asking question.
We love the cathartic thrill
Of being the final arbiter,
The judge of who lives and who dies.
Man and machine bringing the curtain down
In a split second,
By playing God with life and death.
Through the centuries and millennia
In near and distant corners,
Man still hasn’t quenched his thirst
For conquest, subjugation and wanton destruction.
Crazy despots and power-hungry tyrants
Pathological dictators and homicidal presidents,
Military rulers and deranged madmen;
Their vision of a world filled with graveyards,
Stretching for miles
Vast numbers buried untagged,
unnamed and unmourned
Till they are discovered, decades later
In a shocking denouement:
An epochal, withering, distressing legacy.
Man the creator and ultimate destroyer.
He hasn’t learnt his lesson
Perhaps he never will;
Redemption is something alien to him.
He yearns to return
Upon hearing the call of the inner demons
To the dark days of the neanderthal
When he hunted for food,
Built fire to keep warm
Protected his family and clan;
Alas, he discovered the power of the club
The propensity for violence to settle disputes:
And the trail of destruction began.
Deaths litter our history
Countries are destroyed, kingdoms are conquered
Entire armies are wiped out
While glory comes to the victor
But at a terrible price.
The cost measured in lives lost;
Will we never understand
The precious gift that is life?
This is the burden of guilt
The burden of our collective guilt.
Weighed down by it,
By the cumulative, aggregate burden;
Hunched over, body bent in an arc
Next moment crawling on all fours,
The old man, the time-keeper
Can move no more.
Tired and exhausted, he drops the sack;
His eyes are closed; he has lost his voice
Like the bells all round the world.
|
