The Man Who Cannot Retire Poem by Madathil Rajendran Nair

He danced and waved in the drizzle and wind
The man who can’t retire
Headlights shone on him
Like bulging eyes of the night
Lengthened the comic shadow of his royal turban
Onto the woods and yonder into the far beyond
The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers

Outside a restaurant, on the thorny fringe of the road
In the chill, his knees and heels misbehaved
Like obstinate kids who refuse to be roused
Out of slumber, unable to open laden eyes

Seventy years of privations weighed
His steps were stiff and rigid
But dance and wave at passers by
He had to, that is the boss's bidding
The owner of the restaurant
Who had his eyes in the stars
And dreamed of eternal stampede
At his grand portal on the road

An ailing wife, two daughters
Abandoned by their reckless men
Their screaming kids had to be fed
The dancer couldn’t simply retire
The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers

The boss had said
He could have hired
Pretty lasses for the work
But in a land of predators
And foraging cannibals
He couldn’t place them on the road
To bring in prospective customers
Men retired from service
Was therefore the right choice

So dance like them the hired hand must
If he wished to keep his bread
No matter how old he was
Even if his feet were bare
And badly tattered his royal attire

The dancer wished he could pause
Move into the shadow of the gate
Ease his stiffening gait
Light a beedi, puff at it
Look at the stars that rode the trees

But who knows there isn’t
A cop lurking in the dark
Engaged in overkill
On smoking ban for a petty bribe
And then there always is
The boss with a thousand eyes
From anywhere any time he can spot
Any dereliction on the part of his staff

Old days were perhaps good
In the trenches on the frontiers
When the rum in the vein
Ruled men’s actions
When panic moved triggers
The stink of sweat and boot
Didn’t matter
And which way death came
A bullet, a shrapnel or grenade
Or perhaps an unseen bayonet from behind

When deep in the trench he lay
With other soldiers over-frayed
His wife and kids a memory half-erased
Like the moon of the day
Looking at the winter sky
Thinking why men fought and killed
Over disputes on geographical lines
On a planet that belonged to none

He knew perhaps there were men
Like him in trenches across the line
Who thought on similar lines
Wished to stand up and embrace
Throwing their guns to winds

But that was not to be
For fear was the key
Any movement across the line
Be that the wriggle of a roach
The finger on the trigger should broach

Fear is the key, yes, fear is the key
His bread, come what may, he must keep
Dance he should till his feet did bleed
In the rain, chill and wind
The pathos should ensure
Footfalls in the restaurant
The man who can’t retire
The man who once guarded a nation’s frontiers