Friday, December 25, 2009


No one calls me by name, anymore
The postman, yes, but that's official
(I get hardly any mail these days)
My parents, playmates, close colleagues,
I've survived them all ---
Standing on this 80-plus dizzy peak
Is not a feat I'm proud of
Does the summiteer know
The vanity of conquest?
Or if he knows
Does he admit it?
I am afraid
I'll forget my name, soon
If no one uses it
I might even think
It is someone else they're calling
(That is, as long as I can hear)
Just to avert that possibility, (keep this confidential)
I look at the mirror, every morning
Greet myself, loudly
"Hello, Ambi, how are you!"
"I'm fine, thank you!"
I smile and nod at my hang-dog image
I tell him
"Be a companion unto yourself!"
However, I would rather, someone else
Came calling my name, soon
"Ambi, your time is up.!"
Would I not go bounding
Like a dog to his master?


P. Venugopal said...

A hauntingly intimate picture you draw in this poem. What will it be like...will we all go bounding like a dog to his master when the call comes, finally?

P. Venugopal said...

Happy New Year, Prabhakar!

Prabhakar said...

Thanks, Venu. Have a great year.

Scribbler said...

:) How true. Quite an Insightful poem. And a deep thought.

keep it rollin;)

Prabhakar said...

Scribbler, thanks.