Mithya XI
Today I will start sharing my almost autobiographical composition Mithya XI with you which is part prose and part poetry, mostly fact and a little fiction. Some things will make sense, some will need to be decoded. Please find below the first meaningful 'chapter' from my life story. A usual disclaimer: any resemblance to a living or dead person is in good faith, sometimes for humorous purpose, and not to malign anyone.
The tale (part 1)
Player I: Nischal's Fiery Opening
Injured and bleeding, I lay sprawled on the ground,
carried on a stretcher, I can feel my broken crown,
rushed into the ICU, away from the madding crowd,
but the noises do not subside, they barely drown. [1]
The voices in my head are struggling to grasp,
where did I err, how did I land up in a cast
Had my attention wavered, or the ball was too fast
- a bodyline against The Don- my Karma, my past. [2]
How did he set me up, first some in swingers then out,
he was on the opposite team, and still I let off my guard,
if I had scored the century, it would be his dismal rout
so with a preemptive bouncer he aimed for my ward. [3]
My ward that I wished to get elected from and serve,
My ward at the root of this Test, vulnerable yet strong.
- Helping the weak, providing protection they deserve-
My heart beating for the underdog- was my only wrong? [4]
He came to see me, I was broken in spirit and flesh,
He made a silent promise to epitomise me in a paean,
all that had transpired, all that was unsaid, but fresh,
forever in my mind as we both nurtured that pain. [5]
In the city square, where I used to wield my mace,
I was brutally assaulted- by the police themselves,
all in an attempt to make me lose my face,
hundreds lay over me and took the lathi on selves.[6]
I barely survived, thankful to the human shield,
the scores who traded their bones for mine,
and yet I lament why He wasn’t on the field,
even if not present, did His heart pine? [7]
He has never really thanked me, even once for my act,
I’ll rather see it in action - just carry the legacy ahead,
There is a whole match to be played- that remains a fact
I know my time is up, but He must try to keep His head. [8]
He had a dream, and a right,
to get into the IITs, a future bright
and He had the guts, and the fight
to take on His tenants - no matter light. [9]
They were four of them, dangerous and Bhai type
He only had me and a feeling that its alright
if things came to a violent turn, as they sometimes might,
He would face the consequences, He didn’t hide.[10]
To vacate the premises, I often scared their daylights,
and yet couldn’t go the whole mile, as the reaction was strong,
He was small, outnumbered, not made for fights
I lived under fear that things could go wrong.[11]]
I could have got it vacated, just like the powerful Hanuman,
could have brought home Sita and preempted the war,
but then Ramayana wouldn’t have existed, none would have heard of Ram
Let the glory fall on Him, let me be the servant of the clan.[12]
I was so powerful, that even the gods punished me,
for His neighbourhood Sun, got eclipsed in my mouth,
His living in that neighbourhood was akin to be,
Like a tongue caught between the teeth of the mouth.[13]
And yet He survived, and ultimately flourished,
What happened to me is a different story,
My tail got burnt and my face got sooted,
Took me a while to adjust to these events gory.[14]
The black on my face that I helped vacate a joint
at the same time campaigning for the slum dwellers’ stay
that apparent contradiction a justification for assault,
and a murderous attempt to get a rival out of the way.[15]
Why did he stoop so low, is politics really for dogs,
I’m no saint, but why did he hit on the groin?
face me on the ballot field, accept me as one of gods,
defeat me on my turf, I will prove who is the Loin.[16]
SP my friend, thanks for selecting me in this squad,
our friendship is old, and if you were still in the game,
You would have made for a handsome lad,
you retired- and it has made you somewhat tame.[17]
You wanted a movement of sorts, on the day of that crime,
I request you in earnest, select an A team to fight,
Play it forward, do it now, don’t just bide your time,
and never let it fade, the memories of that night.[18]
I know for finding players you have a prodigious ear,
Make every player of Mithya XI as strong as Him,
We have to get the world cup at least this year
consider this my wish, my command, my whim.[19]
Be their Physio, their healer, their coach, their guide,
Let them achieve the dreams we had dreamt in our youth,
Let them know how to play, how to defend, how to strike,
and when they get broken and dispirited- be there to soothe.[20]
I have opened well, I have set the ground,
for younger players to come and show their style,
I played aggressively- does that astound?
I have hit a few strokes, alas no sixes in a while.[21]
I played for the city, if not for the state.
becoming the vice captain, throwing around my weight,
but that almost fatal injury had sealed my fate,
My party was in power, but to the party I was late. [22]
A few days before the JEE, I gave the ultimatum,
the court case was dragging, so I made it simple,
they ran out of fear, locking behind the sanctorum
for 14 years without prayer did lie the temple [23]
The good part - sans nuisance- He could finally study well,
the results were astounding, He did top in the town,
With time we won the case, though it took some time, oh hell!
now He rarely comes to see me, isn’t our team one down?[24]
I should have retired hurt, after that bouncer on my neck,
but I continued to play, contorting in pain,
Always eager to serve on His call and beck,
I know what I lost, but the team did gain. [25]
I was limping my way in life, chewing tobacco and drinking,
trying to forget that ‘day’, shying from the memories that would flood,
With each passing day in a depression I was sinking,
trying to figure out why it happened, who was after my blood? [26]
Outwardly strong, even batting like a pro,
inside I was dying, I felt cheated and in a rut,
what malady affected me - SP my bro
you should have known it coming, and nipped it in the bud. [27]
I feared no one, and definitely not death,
yet life became too heavy after that fateful day,
you helped me recover my balance, but forthwith,
I submit to my fate - so that other hands play.[28]
I retire now from this game of life,
No Paean’s written yet, no world cups to boot,
no ticket to assembly, no personal life,
I’m burning inside- except for that cold cold soot. [29]
I can die with a light heart knowing I stood for right,
I traded my options knowingly, I did not shy
from sacrificing my body parts, in that gruesome night,
now I’m at peace, I can say goodbye [30]
He is busy in His world, I am still waiting for His call,
He preaches gratitude as a means to be happy
He has grown in this world, shoulders back and standing tall,
pursuing his passions, leaving jobs that were crappy. [31]
I somehow fantasise, in one of His classes,
when He asks the students to share a gratitude letter,
He will lead by example, clear his glasses,
and finally call to thank me- it will make Him feel better. [32]
For indebted as He is, He now avoids my company,
and feels guilty at not being able to make to my team,
He wasn’t good with the bat, but his talents are many,
maybe he will pick up bowling and use some seam.[33]
I am sure my efforts have not gone in vain,
it wasn’t about getting a home vacated from goons,
it wasn’t about the JEE - let me make it plain,
It was about setting an example- for many coming moons. [34]
And in that we succeeded, we will live in tales,
of how that opening partnership, of a super fast ton,
set the grounds for a high score, besides which pales,
all historical records, our mission is now done. [35]
My journey is over, now pass the baton down the line,
No one man needs to bear the cross-we can all pitch in
Let me retire like my friend SP who’s doing just fine,
and preparing to narrate the rest of tale- let him begin. [36]
I am said to be immortal, one of eight,
Always serving Him, and His clan,
Writing poetry is my passion and chosen fate,
being remembered in His memoirs is my plan. [37]
I died today from an alcohol overdose,
some say it was to avoid facing cancer of throat,
orating this story has already taken a toll
on my funeral, I didn’t even got a good pose. [38]
He is busy in his world, I am still waiting for His obituary,
He gets students to write their eulogies, it sounds so cute,
He is tending to his garden, He doesn’t look in a hurry,
Will Rome continue to burn, while He is playing flute? [39]
I somehow fantasise when His tale will be told,
It will open with gratitude towards a Kavindra ‘Nishchal’
and as He clears His glasses, and if His eyes be bold,
they will be moist and tender and thank me full. [40]
