A Three-Dimensional Canvas

When with my class on a long trip I went
To the Hot Springs of Kapishya where we spent
Hours of fun as we hiked and we rafted
And many witty stories were happily crafted

Either on hilltop, river or beside the lake
Or under the stars where we lay awake
Around a fire that blazed, blew and bristled
“And this is Zambia?” a newcomer whistled.

This young lad, of course, on many trips had been
Much of the bush and the veldt he had seen
And this remark was exhaled in a spirit of awe
For this was as good as anything he ever did or saw.

He hadn’t expected to have so much fun
Whether under the stars or the blazing sun
And had to admit it was the “best trip I’ve had
For Zambia is great, it is not at all bad.”

This remark immediately took me back into the past
To a moment that will, in my memory, always last
When a friend asked me, “What on earth will you do?”
In Zambia, a land most of us hardly knew.

Palms over the fire, I now quietly mused and thought
The world’s ignorance of the wealth this land has got
For in the five summers that I have, on trips, been
My admiration has grown with each new locale I’ve seen

Of course, most obvious, is the mighty smoke that thunders
Zambia’s greatest export, one of the world’s natural wonders
Yet, there is much more to Zambia than the Victoria Falls
There are miles of beautiful bush, animals, birds whose wake-up calls

Chirp through the bush, in its crisp and refreshing air
As into glowing sunrises, one can only “stand and stare”
For in this world, yes, we have just enough time
To admire the rhythm of nature, each tune, each rhyme

There is the Kafue National, country of the Big Five
Where diverse animals, in unspoilt wilderness, still do thrive
Or the Luangwa Valley, where the leopard lithely leaps
While you enjoy a walking safari, with an experience for keeps

I remember ‘raucous ruffians’ on a prefect training camp
As their days they would record near a fire or a lamp
While the mighty Zambezi, it foamed and it roared
And its ferocious inmates, calmly slept and snored

I recall walking through bush that towered over my head
And in the hills of Mutinondo, making my fire and bed
In the midst of which, many new friends I had made
As with banter and chatter, our way, we’d waddle and wade

Singing songs, as we would, our own music make
And on some deserted hillock take a much needed break
Making plans for the rest of the arduous hike
And prepare a bushman’s dinner in a spot we like

Far from its crowded cities, we would have so much fun
Be it climbing baobabs or fishing under the Kafue’s sun
And in such a milieu, I learnt more of each lass and lad
Than anything they could write on an examination pad

Yes, this is Zambia, a land profuse in natural treasure
Of valleys, hills, plains and parks in equal measure
Ready to offer the intrepid explorer or the traveller new
A three dimensional canvas in its most natural hue.

Quirkily Chaotic

To the world, it is a

City of crowds, teeming with hustle and bustle
In every nook, alley, corner and vicinity
There is frenzy as a pulsating herd of humanity
Swarms onto its streets to begin its daily jostle

In organized chaos, as commuters in confusion
Forge – through anarchy – order of some sort
Shouting rules that have thus carefully wrought
The city’s growth amidst a populous profusion

Of an offspring whose demands are hard to meet.

City of sound, arena to a concert of cacophony
Whose orchestra has managed just the right measure
So that its sundry ensemble can derive much pleasure
In the melodious jingle of diverse disharmony

As they sway to the tunes that daily resonate
From vehicles, humans and assorted creatures
Whose spectacular show quite often features
An echo that does each second reverberate

From an offspring whose music is hard to beat.

Personally, it is a

City of memories, embellished by decades three
A journey back into the past each time I visit
For I recall how, on the train to ‘Madras’ I’d sit
Excited, for in Moore Market, I could wander in glee

A son of the soil, with dreams of places far and wide.

City of camaraderie, of the many friendships made
Of the many lessons learnt, in school and in college
An education that has helped me across many a bridge
Since those days, with friends, on St Bede’s fields I played

A son of the soil, who learnt to take things in his stride.

City of youth, of its many, crowded buses and trains
On which, in carefree abandon, did teenage risk
A life full of energy, a life at pace that was brisk
A life whose only proof is that tiny scar that remains

On a son of the soil, who did with much danger ride

In this city that does on the Bay of Bengal lie
A city of history, the quirkily chaotic City of Chennai

A Centurion Speaks

Over one hundred years, here, have I stood
One hundred years which have been great and good
And though I am old, I am not yet frail
Instead, my heart beats: loud, hearty and hale

Numerous friends I have, since, come to know
And our friendships still continue to grow
For they recall me each time they do re-unite
And remember the days we spent, sunny and bright

On my part, I oft remember those cheery young lads
Their whims, their fancies, their ever-changing fads
But, as constant as the sea that massages my back
For cheery pranks, laughter and music I never do lack

With me, these young boys, did many lessons learn
In their achievements, my heart with pleasure does burn
And I continue to swell with such joy and pride
For I hear tales of their success from corners wide

Those days, I remember, when on the sunny sports field
In competitive combat many ‘weapons’ they would wield
So that their team could,its flag, fly vibrantly high
As earnest enthusiasts would, loud support, vigorously cry

My memory is indeed a glittering treasure chest
For I remember many a vibrant, cultural fest
Of debates, drama and quizzes that I still admire
Of music, songs and a band that played with fire

Over one hundred years, here, still I live
One hundred years, with much more to give
Earnest young lads the tools with which to rule
A world of ambition that begins, with me, their school

That continues to stand, here, on Santhome High Road
To provide future learners with a lovely, warm abode
So that, they will, in their actions, words and deeds
Be true ambassadors of me - their school - St Bede’s.