Murkhamantri On Coming From Harvard

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.