The Portarit Of An Artist Make I, Old Sardarji Mean I, Khushwant Singh Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The portrait of an artist make I
Of the Sardarji,
The artist as a young man not
But an old man,
Seasoned and colourful
Going with the time,
Clutching age and ageing
He striding along

Khushwant Singh the man and the artist
Sketch I,
The Sardarji
In the turban and the pyjamas
With the specs over the face,
Doing the talks so much in glee and spirits,
A novelist and a short story writer,
An essayist and a columnist,
A historian and a journalist
And a politician too of his own type
In his chessboard plays.

He is such a writer who can even taste
Rum, whisky, beer, brandy and vodka
And champagne to say
How those tasted,
Whose love-affair is with whom,
A blackmailer not, but a whistleblower is he
Undaunted in his write-up,
Can fight cases as for justice
And can leave honours
For community’s sake.