A Reflection at Fifty Five


by Dr. K.V. Raghupathi

At eighteen I came here like Ulysses
Nothing happened in the class room
except parroting and rattling.
I knew it wouldn’t shape my bole.
What a chasm between the seed and tree in it!
I stumbled and tumbled over my life
through severe summers and rolling rains
I wrote about them, it was like peat
I talked about them, it was like drainage water
I knew these writings and talking would land me on the barren mountain back
What a hiatus between the infant in me and the elephant in forest!

At eighteen I came here, alone
I have grown up since, like fern
to live alone to sustain Ulysses in me
to keep my old visions set sail on the fallen leaves.
All my dreams, unreal to myself like clouds in the purple sky
I have grown up since, like heavily warped tree
making the epic poem out of dried experiences
taking word after word from the sucked roots.
At fifty five, I am a tree
When I last looked at it, it is shrinking
like morning star on the hills.
What an estuary between dream and reality!

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