Is there a future? After tomorrow?
What would mankind not give, to know the future!
We consult oracles, read palms, gaze up into the stars;
We wish to know our fortunes, our loves, our wars.
Is there, for prediction, any reliable feature?
Could we know early, and so avoid sorrow?
We gaze at the tea-leaves, at the coffee-grounds;
We read our palms, look at numbers;
We interpret the dreams that we have in our slumber…
We look at the cowrie shells that have no ocean sounds…
We ask little birds in cages,
To pull out predictions, in little messages.
This cow that is supposed to predict good times…
She just nods her head…and hopes to be fed.
The future, beyond that, for her, is dead.
It’s only humans who think of the future..and pen rhymes.
And yet the future lurks, unseen, unknown:
Humanity stands in the present, alone.
The future…if by chance, we could know
What lies in store, perhaps…we’d not be human any more.
The “boom-boom maadu”, caprisioned, is led along the houses where loud cries of the good fortune that is in store for the householder (with the cow nodding agreement) will result, hopefully, in cash, clothing and food for the man and his bovine working partner.
BTM Layout, Bangalore 161212.