Too late for amends

Too late for amends

 

              For T. Ganesan (1931-1985)

 

                                    

 

It is as though an unjust hand punished you

As if the Adlerian guiltless position in the constellation wasn't enough

    toppling you from a pedestal

 

You were groomed for position

                                    for heading a family

    vacated by the head himself

                                         out of time

 

So they protected you

                  pampered you

    the custom required it

 

         there were sisters whose dowries you were supposed to earn

   there were grounds whose circumferences you were designated to crush

there were centuries and goals you were bound to knock with stick and bat

   there were exams you were deemed to sail through

          there were jobs you were merely to inherit on merit

 

The second son was sacrificed

      He was too close a second

They turned a deaf eye to your sacrificial deeds

                                   the suffocating cries   

 

Work on what has been spoiled by the father and the mother

                                                                Hexagram 18

 

Other hands worked on the second son

Other sacrifices nearly came to pass                       

Fierce jungles

                swirling muddy rivers

                                     stalking cobras

                               poisonous thorns

                               aboriginal hunters

   even your suffocating arms to lock the broken neck

                                               fresh from a hanging

 

These worked

                     where the mother and father failed

        and instilled a wish for survival in your Abel

 

How could you be blamed for being the first born boy

 

                      if the second took longer to arrive

         or instead came as a baby girl

 

Neither parent may be faulted

How could either have known or foreseen

Your traversing of the desert

                                         alone

  often in shame

                      in fear of being found out

 

You kept your back straight

You honoured your position

You wore that air of masterfulness

                                                  in your stride

                in your respect for the meek for the fairer sex

    in your willingness to come to the aid of the needy

in your alas mind's reach

    bereft of the means to give it authority

 

In your own mind

                         you had wandered far

    as far and beyond the distances of your strides

                          within three posts   four walls  open ground and air

     you never bothered with approving thumps on the back

  nor the little-watched heroic actions on some turf

     nor did you recount these match-winning feats

                                                                 in a thirst for applause

 

You were the quintessential sportsman

You played your last game alone

                                               far away from your folk

      You had no wish for a farewell

 

Yet you are mourned in pain by all

 

 

© T.Wignesan 1993

April 14, 1993

[from the collection : back to background material, 1993]