The cynicism of faith (and other truths)

I have faith and I want to be good and happy; and yes, at one level, I have always wanted to be a normal person with a normal life, like most others out there.

But instead, here I am -- having just brought out another book of poetry, still dealing with the hustle of placing it here and there.

Lugging books in haversacks and hustling them to people who probably have absolutely no trust in the merits of poetry as a genre or no understanding of the value of the medium.

I mean, I have done this twice before -- lugging books here and there, couriering them to Flipkart, even couriering them to individual buyers, couriering them to some great / established names...

And now, I will be doing all this a third time.

I guess, that's normal for some.



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A quick look at two lies associated with poetry.

Fame.

Money.

You know of any other?

Do tell.



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To end this post on a bright note (so to say).

It has rained quite a lot in Hyderabad in the past week or so. And since I have wandered a bit on my feet all around my place for the past two years as well, I would say, they have arrived almost two weeks earlier than they usually do.

I mean, the buffalo wallow did not dry to a puddle this year, nor some of the quarries through which I had walked, raising dust, in the years past.

I am not saying the heat was any lesser -- for some 2 weeks in end May, it was positively infernal. And that was when (while out in the 40 degree heat in the afternoon, hoping to come across a nightjar) that I saw lapwings belly-wetting and also came across a yellow-wattled lapwing's nest.

There, there...let me not digress, the rains have arrived earlier than usual and like for most, its a relief to me as well.

Yes, its a big relief to see the same earth that seemed as lifeless as a baked brick in summer, grow green -- a green that defies description, and in fact makes you stop and search through all your soul and being for that one word which could express its dazzle and sheen when it catches the sunlight...

And its a bigger relief to know that the poems still come to me.

Maybe it is allowed for poets to hustle. As long as the hustling is of poetry books.