Fifty Years Ago Poem by Bashyam Narayanan

Fifty years ago
This day
The twenty seventh day of the month of May

It was the time
When we, boys, were waiting for
The results of our school final examination
We did not have the kind of communication gadgets
We have today

We were in touch with the world
Through news papers, Indian Postal Department and
Whatever news we heard from the radio sets

That day afternoon news bulletin had the news that
Our first Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru died of heart attack

All stations of All India Radio
Were heard continuously broadcasting
Heart-tearing melancholies played on
String instruments like sarod, sarangi or violin

For me, it was not more than an event
For discussion among our elders
Who used to sit outside their homes in the night

But really it was not so
Office going elders returned early from the office
By three or so in the afternoon
A number of people gathered
To discuss the successes and failures of the Prime Minister
And as to who would become the Prime Minister
Beneath the pandals erected for summer season
In front of the houses

We, the boys, were asked to rush
To the bus stop in the southern side of the town
And get the latest evening edition of the news paper
These editions were of local language
And our group would not normally read those
We went further ahead of the news paper shop
And intersected the bicycling paper boy
So that we were the first ones to get the copy
We were not supposed to read the paper
And it was to be handed over afresh to the person
Who sent us about a kilometer far to collect this

He was standing in the middle of a crowd, mostly men
When the fresh, still print-ink smelling, news paper
Was handed over to him
By one of us sweating profusely after the rush from the bus stop

He unfolded it and had a glimpse of all the pages
An declared that there was nothing like news in it
Except for some photos displaying Nehru in some functions

By that time he realized that it was time
For a new bulletin from All India Radio
The entire crowd entered a house
Where a big radio set was on
And the announcement came mentioning
It was time for a news bulletin

The entire group stood in silence
Listening to the news, played at the radio's highest volume
There was nothing new either
Except for some world leaders' condolence messages

It was decided that we would mourn the death
Of our beloved and in-office Prime Minister
We arranged a stage with four same-height-benches
In the pandal
A garlanded big framed-photo of Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru was kept
A protected-from-wind oil lamp and incense sticks spewing fragrance
Were by the side of the photo

After sun set we took a silent procession
With a person leading with the Nehru's photo
Held with reverence in his hands
We went around the square of four streets
Before reaching the place from where we started

As the procession was passing on
Many joined the procession
At the end of the procession
Some of our elders addressed the gathering
Expressing great things about the departed soul
The fact was, however, they normally had only
Critical remarks on Nehru

We were asked to stay on in the pandal night through
Ensuring oil lamp kept glowing and incense sticks kept smoking
We managed to do that

It was now the next day early morning
We got up after a disturbed sleep and there
Appeared there one of our school teachers
Who resided in the same street
He stood before the stage and looking at the display

He shouted
What the hell you are doing here
We explained the details

He frowned
I know all that
I was in the city yesterday
And saw much bigger processions
You may not know that
In the city everything came to stand still yesterday
I was thrown out of the lodge where I was staying
Hotels were closed
Practically I was in the street the whole yesterday
And did not eat anything after the news broke

He continued that
Even the family of Nehru would not have mourned his death
As we did in the streets of Madras yesterday

And you people here are extending the mourning
Stop this nonsense immediately
Take away the photo and dislodge the arrangements
Go home, be good to your people
You do not need to display this meaningless national interest
We did all that he said in silence
And reached home to sleep further