POST OPERATION

By Rungeen Singh

(A Kavita Media Presentation. Please email comments here. You can also contact Kavita with your feedback, by dialing 678-720-1260. Selected comments will be broadcast on our webcast.)

Drifting groggily out of a hazy anaesthetic cloud

my mind felt the semblance of a new birth

lustily cheering that my minor operation was done

I felt good to be alive on this lovely earth.

A searing pain of the surgical wound made itself felt

making me scream like a hysterical train gone beserk

probably to pierce the deafness of every callous ear

demanding a modicum of pity for each and every tear.

As the ache rested, swirling from self preoccupation

my mind impatiently peered out and regained

its inquisitive awareness of the outer world,

my senses awoke to a dozen patients all synonymous

in their desire for sympathy after minor operations,

all extremely vociferous in expressing their distress

in unnecessarily loud hyperbolic expressions of stress

with martyred façade and manipulative stance

to draw the attention of the harassed medical fraternity

everyone participated in a contest to get priority.

But one lay in total silence, a handsome lad of eighteen

He looked around sympathetically at the general anguish

and gently commiserated by smiling sweetly.

Just then a Caesarian mother broke her high pitch,

and screamed her discomfort in a higher decibel

she ranted at the doctors here, there and everywhere,

demanding immediate attention then and there!

The doctors were busy they could not come

and her ire went beyond the control quotient…

Then the handsome lad softly said to her,

“ Dear lady! A patient is supposed to be patient.”

He soon got a rebuff for his gentle rebuke.

The dear lady got an excuse to unburden her rage
and scolded him, tersely ending the tirade

“You look cheerful. What do you know about pain?”

“You are right, I am sorry,” he replied

but immediately his face convulsed with agony

and he was wheeled out ever so urgently

The doctors left everything and ran after him

while a nurse shattered, helplessly cried

the lady patient was the most surprised

and asked the nurse about her plight…

The nurse then sobbed out, “This poor boy is a saint

He smiles and is kind and hides his pain inside

but he is terminally ill in the fatal stages of cancer.

Now collapsed, he will go away to heaven forever.

Do you think he deserves death at such a tender age?”

A deathly silence answered her questioning rage

as each and every patient had clearly heard her.

They prayed for the lad, thinking of what was ordained

and then kept quiet. And after that no one complained.

OUR POOR EARTH!

By Rungeen Singh

(A Kavita Media Presentation. Please email comments here. You can also contact Kavita with your feedback, by dialing 678-720-1260. Selected comments will be broadcast on our webcast.)

The weary hunch of the tired earth has stooped further
burdened by millions, billions and trillions
of stamping, restless, trampling feet
over the tiresomely long years…
Our poor earth has borne and is still bearing
living creatures in preposterous quantities
of myriad species and specimens of diverse qualities
of which humans gained control with their intelligence
and adorned the world with sheer diligence.
The world now seems in the zenith of development
successful, progressive and ever so prosperous
topped as it is by technological excellence
Science occupies a triumphant throne
Medicine replenishes body and bone
Satellites victoriously transverse space
Computers connect the human race
Transport zooms through blue heavens
Communication whizzes past demons
But beware we have created our own nemesis
We have war paraphernalia enough to end all life
So pray that there is an end to conflict and strife
As the brains are belligerent enough to pull triggers
We are on the brink of a dangerous precipice forever
Where a whimsical push of a button can cause extinction
Of everything so carefully created with precision…
The earth moreover appears in robust blush of health
but actually the rot has entered its entrails
sagging with unaccustomed pressure
dragging the skeleton of health and pleasure
gagging the breath out of all plant and animal life
haggling with every cell yearning to breathe
the gasping earth strives to exist,
but bedraggled remains, as humans aggravate by
plugging porous cells that breathe
nagging till the joys of the world freeze
ragging the daylights out of the elements
bagging no more prizes from the exhausted nature
tangled as it is in spurious chemicals
mangled chokingly in suffocating pollution
mugging nature right on the head instead…
And today the shackled people of the universe
embracing their depleted resources at last
stumble with fatigue through a bleak destiny
Scared now of scarcity of basic air, water and food
juggling with an uncertain birth and imminent death
they latch onto every promising survival route.
A long serpentine polluted rope we have created
Of which we retain enough to hang ourselves
and all that our poor earth can do
is to hope for respite and reprieve!

Rungeen Singh has been a writer since 1992 and an English teacher since 1972. She has written English story books and poems for children, short stories, poems and articles for various Magazines & Newspapers. Rungeen is a Life member of Association for Writers and Illustrators for Children. She lives in India. You may write to her at rungeen.singh@gmail.com

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in these columns are solely those of the writers and do not necessarily represent those of the editor/publisher.


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