accidents – Mad Decadence

Neither birth is our choice

Nor is the death

They are all accidents

Intentional or Unintentional

Serendipitous it is

Two brothers losing life together

In a car, perhaps they loved

Driving towards a destination

They never reached

A mother died while making

Her final cuppa of tea

Which perhaps she

Never got a chance to sip

A father too died years ago

While waiting for his evening tea

Which he too never got a chance to sip

It all happens in a fraction of a second

That’s all it takes to breathe in first time

Or to exhale for the last time

I hear a piercing wail of a new born

Perhaps still missing

The safe cuccoon of the womb

I hear the lament of an adult

Watching his mother’s hearse

And then we get the news of passing

Of young footballers who faced odds

But with talent that got recognised

They could afford a Lamborghini

Whose tires unfortunately gave up

Just like both the engines

Of that ill fated aircraft

Which crashed not too long ago

On the roof of a medical college

Whose students deaths

Never got counted

Just like the deaths of innocents

Which have fatigued and numbed the world

Does million have an extra zero?

We no longer count

The unaccountables

We know and accept

Death as fate

Inevitably Inevitable

It all depends on the moment (and nation)

Where you are born

Or destined to be

Or the place you are going to

Or where you are coming from

I see the news of a white student passing

In a white rich country

While looking for that dear Asian kid

Who died while trying to beat

The unprecedented heat

A river waves took him away

Then they tell me of passing

Of someone whose lungs gave away

Who chose cigarettes over his odds

We all are the risk takers

Our births are risks

Life is a risk

And so is our fight for it

And against it

Without choice we are here

Living, breathing it all in

The foul rotting smell

Fills our nostrils

Along with wafts of fresh fragrances

Of the new bloom

That’s how it is perhaps

Inevitably Inevitable

Both Life and death

A fraction of a second

A breath separating the two

A fraction of a second

It takes for the bombs to explode

Or a sniper to shoot

Those ill-fated hungry children

Who didn’t choose to be born

On that ill-fated land

Whose fate was decided

In the name of the imagined god

Gods who are yet to prove their existence

Do show up for these births and deaths

Between blessing little ones

In the name of God

And absolving the dead of their sins

The priests of the land thrive

While labs toil away

For that perfect elixir

To save us from ageing

And dying

An actress too died

While trying to be

Young and relevant

In a show business

How bizzare it is

How inevitably Inevitable

It all seems to be

Living ones getting on with it .

Winging it with AI, drones,

Botox and meditation

Adding new iterations

All in a circle

Of life and death

I stare at my nearly dead plant

Hit by the morning newspaper missile

Symbolic isn’t it?

The newspaper that carries

The news of death, wars and funerals

Nearly killed my plant

Inevitably Inevitable

Accident it is all…

We still cannot fully comprehend

That one grand design accident – Big bang

And then how down the line

Intelligently stupid

Life evolved

On this blue planet in the universe

A life that tries to comprehend itself

And has also turned upon itself

In a suicidal self sabotage

Inevitably Inevitable?

The rigged game goes on

So does poetry…

Anyone who has travelled by long distance trains in India will find it difficult to come to terms with this recent horrific three train collision and its aftermath.

I have travelled frequently to and fro between Mumbai – Kolkata, Mumbai – Pune, Mumbai – Sholapur, Chennai – Kolkata, Mumbai-Delhi, Kolkata-delhi and on other various routes till last year’s trip to Bombay with my son. We cancelled the return ticket and booked a flight due to multiple reasons: long delays as freight trains, I was told, were being prioritised, decline in food quality, and absolutely no reasons given for inordinate delays of 6 hrs, 10 hrs etc. When I did rant, I was often told that signalling systems were being revamped so I must not complain in the interest of the nation.

These long distance trains are microcosms of India. A compartment becomes a confluence of culture, class and plurality. Much to your annoyance or delight (depends on what kind of co-passengers you have) it is always a memorable journey.
A train becomes a singular entity ferrying people of all kinds to their destination. The variants being tea, food and other kinds of vendors, the railway kids who come out of nowhere to sweep the dirt away from under your feet, or to collect plastic bottles, beggars, singers etc. We can find all kinds of people to engage with as the train hurtles down the tracks.

In an accident like this, it is so difficult to trace vendors, railway kids, beggars who were there in the train. Maybe some of the elders will be located through their fellow vendors but what about those kids?
They too of course have a network. Once I had offered to buy a stick icecream for one of the tiniest ones, he smartly told me to wait till he got his friend from the other compartment. In no time, there were a bunch of 10 to 12 of them to have the ice cream much to the annoyance of co-passengers. I got much unsolicited advice on how they can’t be trusted and they are part of larger gangs, they rob etc.

My most painful unpleasant memory is of Coromandal express, of a stranger who tried to assault me while I was asleep and ran away before I could alert anyone. The trauma has made me a light sleeper so I stay awake either reading a book (till I am told to switch off the lights) or listen to various kinds of snoring, chugging sound of the train, kids wailing or staring out of the window into the dark interspersed by lights of small villages, towns or cities.

This microcosm of India – our long distance trains like Coromandal will continue to prevail as multitudes of Indians cannot afford any other option. One can only hope against hope that each one who lost their lives will be identified, including the vendors, vagrants, juveniles etc.
It isn’t just the trains which collided and jump tracks killing so many people. It is the trust we all have that our systems are functioning smoothly and we are on track that has been broken time and again. These deaths no longer feel like an unpredictable accident, it is again the cliched – chronicle of the death foretold. We all know our nation is being put on a track which will lead to disastrous consequences. How long before we won’t just be a spectator of multitudes of dead?