As he sits at homeVivek Bhasin
now many scores of years
in sometime sad solitary space as it so surrounds
whispering to his feeble heart beat..
“ I never really made it..
nor did I shine bright Venus nor flaming Mars..
I never really excelled nor did well..
as I woke at dawn ..
donning my games kit
as the bugler flung his notes across buffalo pond, white temple and Tara Devi beyond..
I struggled to keep my stockings up…
nor did i forge ahead..
only waiting for the jam of strawberries
that arrived too late… I never..
only the last lick was I granted ..
Nor was I that smart to stand on stage in the Irwin Hall..
no Headmaster’s prize did I win and baffled my senses
at Speech Day…
My roll number was a simple 123
nor was I a swimmer,
nor the great marathon runner…
with nose bleed in the boxing ring
but I stood my ground all three rounds ..
kept my head down in corner red as he raised his hand corner blue all bright and true..
I prayed in the chapel
as others tubed..
their tenor to the piped organ…
I only whispered
the School Song
and prayed for others…
Nor was I too smart that I could stand and beam
as they did
First Second and Third,
Canaries in a row…
I remained where I was
right there.. never in charge..
because I only followed what the preacher said.
at the Captain of the School..
I looked at all of you..
I wished Goldstein
Good Morning Sir..
what does he think of me?..
as he expanded on the hand that gripped the handle..
I was meek and simple
like the Simon…
yet when the Elevens scored I too stood up .. normally the last but I did cheer and felt good
They were many Giants in my School,
at Bishop Cotton School…
.and even when I stood on tip toe I never saw the sky…
I was part of the flock
never the G.O.A.T*
I lived my days
in the middle of the road…
taking the stairs to the porch…
nor was I brash , nor crass, though I did listen to Day Tripper in the Common Room…
and wrote a letter to my Mum and Daddy**
that I was well and happy,
and hope you too are the same ..
It’s Cricket Season
but I just make the B-team
nothing special,nothing ordained
all I was, was that simple boy ..
a small spoke
in that Big Spinning wheel…”
until a Senior once sat me down ..
and said what he said to me..
“ it does not matter
It never will..
you shy and timid lad..
there are but a few who wish to jump
there are a few who push through the glass ceiling
there are few who are great guns
there are few who make a name
there are few who excel
there are few whose voice is heard
there are a few who fight at the front
there are few who get the medals and the commendations ..
Yet… these few who are there
and look back at you,
you shy timid lad…
for without you
they would not be there .. without you …
WE ARE NOT WE…
You pushed them forward with your silent strength ..
with the spirit of the Cottonian,
you stayed low,
you stayed humble
as they made crests
and you the trough,
but without you ,
they were without you..
With YOU … they became YOU..
It was you
who was the final push …
within your normalcy
there was a hidden power
there was in YOU the great spirit of Brotherhood…
and they knew it…
It does not matter
they won the medal …
for the gold in the medal is your ingredient…
YOU and all the others
who remained silent
and walked the path …
You are not the Cottonian who never made it..
You are the one that fed them ..
through thick and thin..
For in their winning..
YOU emerged the Victor…
Never forget …
you simple quiet timid COTTONIAN
You always were the F O R C E …
YOU too are
ALWAYS ..R E M E M B E R E D
as Metallica said…
..” and nothing else matters“
17 Sep 2019
Saluting every Cottonian…
Especially the Quiet One…
*Greatest of All Time
** Daddy = Papa