kk

 a eulogy of sorts for an old friend who passed away following a heart operation.

krishna kaant and i had to hunt down a rabid dog that had been terrorizing the area. he was as always ready to do whatever was necessary. the mad dog had attacked a few people, one being amy berlin, and so with words of encouragement he pulled me into a maruti van taxi and off we went. he had a sword and i grabbed some rope. 

we soon spotted the creature weaving along the street in gandhi nagar. the driver pulled up right beside it, i slid open the door. but before we could do anything the dog lunged at us. i tried to slide the door back only its big black head was already inside, snarling, snapping, teeth bared as i kept trying to shut the door. the crazed creature was inches from both of us drooling, snapping, until finally i got the door closed. then kk very mildly asked me to get off his lap. 

i realized by then, of course, that thinking i could do anything useful with rope was nonsensical. we would almost certainly be relying upon kk’s sword. the next time we encountered the rabid dog night had descended and we were in dhalpur. we asked the driver to park some distance away and we got out. kk brandished his sword. i picked up a large rock as we approached. but, again the dog made the first move. he, she or it lunged, only not at kk, not at me: at the van. it attacked the fender as though the fender was a living thing. it happened so quickly and so violently that we missed our chance. the dog ran off down toward sarvari bazaar and our driver refused to carry on. he handed us his keys and walked away. 

we soon saw a dark shape skulking from side to side on the road. my confidence had pretty much gone along with the taxi-driver. however, up ahead we also could see two police patrolling the quiet area. so we both hollered loudly "pagal kutta! pagal kutta! pagal kutta!" almost immediately the two cops separated from each other as they got closer to the dog. they both twirled their batons and, just as the dog lunged, amazingly, one threw his stick with such perfect aim and force that it hit the creature right between its wild eyes. it collapsed in a heap. then both men picked up rocks and killed it. 

afterward, i valiantly volunteered to drive back to the ashram to talk with doctor gaurav, leaving kk to guard the carcass of the dog. there was a question about whether we needed to test the creature for rabies. it seemed spectacularly unnecessary to us, but we thought to ask. kk sat on a boulder to meditate as i drove off. however, apparently not very long after, in the still darkness of the night, as he meditated, kk heard a gurgling sound and a low growl. and as he opened his eyes he saw the dog was up, slobbering, bleeding, and moving slowly toward him.  

that kk had to finish off ‘the problem’ all on his own was not a fact i learned that night or even soon after. he hadn’t wanted me to feel too badly for having left him there, a clear indication of who krishna kaant was. and you know, at one point many years ago he was told by the doctors that he should really consider living closer to sea-level. and i asked if that was something he would consider. he said it was not, so of course i asked why. he looked at me quizzically and simply answered: "because this is my home." 

chasing squirrels.

 this poem was precipitated by the realization that i’ve spent the entire pandemic chasing squirrels off my bird-feeders. that’s fundamentally what i’ve been doing for the past year. so while i would obviously not consider myself an essential worker, i actually might well be considered as such by certain local sparrows, blue-jays and perhaps a wood-pecker or two. and i find that a fascinating thought to consider.

consider then if all that’s assumed so clever,

must ever be or are we simply chasing squirrels, 

might life’s more confounding questions be buried forever,

while some ancient truth so slowly unfurls, 

like some foreign flag as red as early morning eyes,

takes us for fools seeking validation that’s as annoying,

as lovers’ stubborn hold upon scrabbling lies,

an illusory fact denying the inevitability of deploying,

somewhere directly overseas to furthest afield, 

sealed or still buried in this land of magical thinking,

the inevitability that a sudden evacuation frees,

up a portion of ourselves that’s hereto-for been sinking, 

into our heads slowly but surely to put us on our knees,

a loquacious ludicrous and lucid dream of a better place, 

which may as well be admitting our knowings’ gone south,

at least putting our best foot forward inevitably to face,

facts how they’ve been unquestionably fine in our mouths,

so long as comfortable constructs of ideas we’ve tread,

led to a default setting the exhumation of remains,

again and yet again discarding rumours quietly spread, 

like the pitter patter of litter feet hushed up refrains,

of crazed and wretched rodents running off ahead,

to join a collective us that alone we together have never,

known or perhaps it’s ok not to know whilst life unfurls,

a warning whether wise to consider us clever,

or simply we be chasing squirrels.