The morning hours of early rise

Bring forth momentum, or end in cries.

We are but bound to private lease

High above in clouds of peace.

Reading and catching and calling on news,

There are so many, of multiple hues.

Low on land of destination

The clarity of objects our habitation.

Walk to pleasant climes, and into work

Straight on to face ‘er nothing to shirk ;

We are but creatures of instant command

Follow forth in dress in word and demand

Repeated repeated repeated we reap,

Satisfied until we be in deep heap.

There is a strain on vocal galore

Tomorrow in base in measure secure.

Fed by the kindness of age love and care,

A daily routine a generous fare.

And now to the board to link to write

Wonder if all would liken in spite !!

I wish at times to possess the liberty and protection of a journalist. The freedom to express what I felt, secure in the knowledge, that it shall never ever be questioned. That it shall always have the protection of its vast but immensely possessive fraternity. That even in error or damage it would be umbrella-shaded, diluted, made inconsequential, and quickly forgotten. That it shall have the power to remain a reference for posterity, irrespective of its authenticity or caliber. That it shall form opinion for billions, set their minds, be conclusive and have a permanence beyond time. That it become the base from where other decorated bases could prosper and emerge. To be in the exalted belief of possessing superior qualities of literacy, knowledge and education. Of knowing continuously that all the ‘other’ is but a reflection of an inferiority, in a realm which envelops your superiority. Of having the strength of power to demolish belief, standard, effort, opinion, decision, without ever having to live through the pain and joys of their creation. Of sitting regally on throne of judgement, of passing dictat, order and watch kingly like, its orders being obeyed and followed. Of making decision on who’s pandering to pander to and who to keep in abeyance. Of who to juggle and who to spin. Of how to lead one to prominence and pull the other behind. Of having the authority of value and designation and number. Of being in tune continuously with all that is in vogue and be able to declare another’s shallow form at will. Of having determined presence at any time place or hour to demand attention and response, and to judge it by your own personal breeding of it - or perhaps the breeding of the senior.

Of seeking desperately that exclusive column, that hint of evidence to build along. Of possessing the joy of manufacture and connive, belching it out after its done, for fresh morsel. Of being oblivious to sentiment and feeling. And still be able to end the day in comparing how the day fared outrageously favorable, in bringing to distress those gullible, innocent clients, living and existing in morbid defame and horrified public impression.

Knowing, that as I rest the night in peace, I would have disturbed the peace of the ‘other’ for life and perpetually.

But then I think … do you reckon I could ever become this entity …

Naaahh !! Never ! I could never be as qualified as them !

Good night !

Amitabh Bachchan