On seeing on WhatsApp a video taken from far of a young man on the parapet of a skyscraper in a gated community
Nameless, faceless, tiny form swaying,
Over giant monuments of human creation.
For a few seconds you are monarch of it all,
Holding me rapt in terror and knowledge of
Certain death awaiting. Not only yours, but
A little bit of mine too. It is so evident the
Concrete hills and canyons of achievement
You surveyed in those final moments of
Exalted despair - they filled you not with
Pride, no longing for return to our average
Joys and woes of humdrum everyday life
Nor to your own pains and demons and
Bitter obstructions of passage to a safer
Tomorrow. Your role of Nataraj was brief.
The winds around and inside, the bending
Of knees, and gravity's unerring pull to
Utter destruction, ended our so very brief
Acquaintance, if such we can call it,
Over distance, videograph, and ether.
Fare thee well, if ever this finds you
Alive again in a happier world. May we,
The bereaved, on this one and only
Precipice we know, to you inhabitable,
Make this world kinder, bend our knees,
Bend our pride, bend our gaze
From Death's dizzy, bottomless vertigo.
Sanjib Basu 