Here is a poem I wrote when I was 16. I wonder if this poem makes sense now, as it did then. It is about the meaningless superstitions in the remoter parts of India.
A Dilemma
With curious feet and anxious eyes
I roam today outside my city
How different a world here lies!
Just fifty miles away from vanity.
A world where people are just like me
And yet so clear and pure and candid
That rural affection with affinity
Contrasts with urban richness sordid
A world where people love to love
And keep it simple, beyond words
Who long to see my urban friends
And show them their proud herds
So nice a world is but so torn
In harmful, meaningless superstition
The agony of girls so young, wedded,
Gives utmost pain to my heart and vision!
But do I have the power to improve
This mass of simple, stubborn men?
Who love me from the bottom of their soul
But hate my black-inked pen!
The dilemma is - the good, the bad
Refuse to leave each other
Improved - they lose the purity they had
If not - they remain stagnised forever.
-deep
A Dilemma
With curious feet and anxious eyes
I roam today outside my city
How different a world here lies!
Just fifty miles away from vanity.
A world where people are just like me
And yet so clear and pure and candid
That rural affection with affinity
Contrasts with urban richness sordid
A world where people love to love
And keep it simple, beyond words
Who long to see my urban friends
And show them their proud herds
So nice a world is but so torn
In harmful, meaningless superstition
The agony of girls so young, wedded,
Gives utmost pain to my heart and vision!
But do I have the power to improve
This mass of simple, stubborn men?
Who love me from the bottom of their soul
But hate my black-inked pen!
The dilemma is - the good, the bad
Refuse to leave each other
Improved - they lose the purity they had
If not - they remain stagnised forever.
-deep
