Murkhamantri On Coming From Harvard Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Mukhamantri on coming from Harvard, having delivered a lecture
To the business management guys,
People saying it’s no less than a matter of joke
That he really a great son of the soil.

The villagerly people, a mass of illiterates, fools and rustics
Debating and discussing
He has really brought glory and fame
To the nondescript village

That a son of the soil went to Harvard as for lecturing
Before the experts
And how did they hear him,
The antics of the villagerly Indian minister

And that too not of the state-level, but the central level,
A cabinet minister,
A disciple of Lohia, Gandhi and Jayprakash,
Of sarvodaya and bhoodan.

Ask the media men to sit on the mat, give them lassi,
A drink of it,
As they have come from far off,
As they are guests and will report too.

If lassi is not, give them curd or creamy milk,
A palm-leaf hand fan to fan,
Earthen-pitcher cooled river-water,
Earthen-bowl boiled milk tea.

The muddy floor of the courtyard of the murkhamantri
Full of villagerly people,
The evening darkening
And the minister talking in his dialect.

Before moving for America, changed he the clothes
White kurta and pyjamas
And donned the pants and the shirt,
The coat and the neck-tie.

The white-white, gora-gora sahibs, before them
Lectured he from the podium
And the faculty staff, the distinguished fellows,
Guests and hosts heard him delivering.

How he talked about his life and times, rural studies and culture,
The mud house where he lived in and grew up,
How did he milk the cows and buffaloes,
How the bullock-cart used to bring cereals from the farm?

In America and that too at Harvard, he felt great in to be
With the management guys and the faculty staff,
The way they received him as for the exchange programme,
The reception he got from as for his expertise.

A cowboy, a buffaloman wth a lathi grazing them
In the fields and fallows,
How did he come to be a cabinet minister,
It startled everybody and all sought to learn and drew from.

He spoke a bit in English, Hindi and his dialect,
Sang a folk song and danced a bit,
Combing his ruffled hair,
Said tickling words to please it all.

While leaving the place, he begged for his departure and leave submissively
Though had not been so at home,
Blunt, bogus and fraudulent,
But invited them cordially as for litti, sattu food and lassi drink.