Happy are they who in this chaos of things
With the feet of time chasing them in the rear,
Continue to be Very Ignorable Persons
Living modestly, armed only with hope, doubt and fear.
In this uncertain and ambiguous world
Full of pompous VIPs of a different kind,
Happy are they, anchored on fixed belief
Immense wealth they do not need to mind.
Drunken driving they dare not indulge into
Lest the long arms of law catch up with them,
Disproportionate assets not to worry about
The poverty in their lives being the only gem.
They continue to chug along eking out a living
Facing the harsh slings and arrows of Fate,
Happy, contented, smiling, enjoying togetherness
Nurturing their family along with a soul mate.
Lining up for public facilities they are used to,
But they sleep well, relishing the small joys of life
They dream big for their younger ones
Struggling hard to keep them away from harm and strife.
Not for them the exalted concerns of the privileged class
The color of the beacons on their cars, the power and the pelf,
The ‘special handling’ at airports, at toll booths and at other places,
Twisting the short arms of the law, escaping ignonimity of the self.
The enforced solitude and the lack of real private space
Missing the late night ice creams off a street-parked cart,
The stress of living in a fish bowl, always in the media glare
Unable to go off to a movie or to a museum for a spot of art.
Imagine being a Bertie Wooster sans the millions
Going about life care-free, helping out pals in distress,
Reuniting sundered hearts, obliging ungentlemanly aunts
Avoiding a saunter down the aisle with an aspiring mistress.
Tickling purring cats behind their ears, befriending dogs with aniseed,
Relishing lavish spreads of Anatole, laced with some exotic wines,
Merely pinching policemen’s helmets, manuscripts and cow-creamers
Facing a beak like Pop Bassett and coughing up some modest fines.
Our system somehow does not follow Pop Bassett’s example
Our celebrities might be aware how very lucky they happen to be,
Receiving acquittals aplenty, escaping the thirty days without an option
A furlough there, a bail here, pretty liberal the system appears to be.
Happy are they who in this chaos of things
With the feet of time chasing them in the rear,
Can afford the luxury of continuing to be Very Ignorable Persons
Living modestly, armed only with hope, doubt and fear.
(Illustration courtesy R K Laxman: The Common Man)
ashokbhatia 
Yes. The other sort of VIPs seem to miss out on the things that make for genuine contentment. But then what would I know, never having been one!
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True….we can’t really blame ourselves, our station in life being determined by not only our own efforts or attitudes but also the kind of socio-economic strata we happen to belong to. Even if we were to become a part of the other sort of VIP group, we might never like to come back to this group!
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A very relistic description of the mess that is India. Truly the common man is the one to suffer, which is brought out by this post.Mr. Bhatia has touched the raw nerve that is hurting the common man in his lighthhearted manner, which touches the Nation’s shame. The Wodehousean referenceeses help create the contrast between the ideallyic, pure world with the harsh discrepencies of the real one.
The style of writing leaves the reader awestruck.
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Lopa, you are much too kind; thank you!
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Touching… A true common man story…
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Glad you could relate to it!
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Reblogged this on ashokbhatia and commented:
On the occasion of India’s Independence Day, our thoughts invariably turn to the common man!
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