City roads.

I thought that my mournful song 'City roads take me away' had stirred some soul to act.

The sickening street and 't'errible nagar became clean and neat ,like as if a magic wand was waved, overnight.

I was so overwhelmed by this burst of activity,that I touched wood several times and couldn't wait to shoot of thank you letters to the civic authorities and company.

Ironic isn't it?Clean streets and attending health and hygiene is every citizens birth right.
Do we have it?We cry ourselves hoarse in its pursuit and when it is deigned to be granted ,our gratitude knows no bounds and are besides ourselves with joy!This is what we have been reduced to.

The steady drizzle , unlike the usual cyclonic storms with its howling winds and crashing claps of thunder , was delightful.The school and college boys[tenement dwellers] on leave , played cricket happily in the picture perfect clean open space.My mood was so expansive that I viewed Cooum that is yonder as one would, the river Cauvery.I pondered whether Rishyasringa ,the pure soul, had stepped into Chennai ,since it has been raining intermittently the whole year through.It was all so enchanting that I even penned some poems!

I should have known better.Now every thing is back to square one.I should heed to Bhartrihari's advise when the legendary chataka birds that quenches its thirst only with rain drops cries ...

'O' most bountiful clouds , you are our only support,
Why do you wait for our cry ?

To which he says ...

Ah my dearest chataka, hearken attentively to my words,

There are many clouds in heaven . They are not alike .

Some pour their waters on earth, while others thunder and give forth no rain.

Do not cry and belittle yourself. [from neethi satakas].


But old habits die hard and I am back to singing the same old song.


Hold on, I just heard the whirr of the conservancy truck. Maybe, just maybe I may step on to garbage free ,clean streets.Hope bestirs in me but why should the following observation of Adi Shankaracharya taunt me, sliding through the enormous gap of years [centuries] between us..

Feeble has grown the old man's body'

Toothless his gums and bald his head.

But there he goes , upon his crutches,

clinging firmly to his hope! [ from Bhaja govindam].