BY AKUL ANANDUR
Lives lived and left
Steps marked and forgotten
That’s all we do, did, will do
Putting our footprints among
Millions of us.
Lives lived and left
Memories etched and sketched
A vague familiarity of me, you, and them;
A vague familiarity within all of us.
Time flees, and flies
With nil our stand, nil our stops
The vagueness thickens
The familiarity simmers
Within all of us.
But,
Everybody knows George Anderson.
Everybody knows George Anderson
But nobody really knows him
Don’t know how he looked
Don’t know what he did
Don’t know where he was,
But
Everybody knows George Anderson.
A somebody something who
Died in 1941.
Everybody knows George Anderson
A probably nice gentleman
Or a domestic abuser;
Probably too candid and courageous
Or scared of coming out of the closet.
Nobody knows who he really was
But
Everybody knows George Anderson
Buried next to the entrance of the cemetery.
Everybody knows George Anderson
A spark of everyone’s imagination
Who did nothing except
Book the best spot in the cemetery.
Lives lived and left
The vagueness thickening
The familiarity simmering,
In all of us the memoirs of
Fighters, Entrepreneurs, Artists,
Those struggled and established
The stones of where we live
Where the rest of ’em
Live, lived, will live.
The vagueness thickens
The familiarity simmers
Turning memoirs to specs
And we un-realize everyday
The struggles of all those lives.
But
Everybody knows George Anderson.
The mystery skeleton who won
The final game of Musical chair
Giving the cemetery a second identity.
How much Karma is favouring him
For his memoir rekindles everyday;
An ordinary, insignificant soul
That beat the drum of monotones
Resonating throughout
For the next 70+ years!
Who would’ve thought living in a cocoon
And emerging just as the shutter clicks
Would frame you on the wall forever!
Was his emergence thoroughly planned
Only to make us chant his name?
Was he lucky that
The insides of the cemetery were full
At the time he passed?
Did he plan his death for this?
No matter how insignificant
George Anderson might be
No matter how much of a jerk
George Anderson might be
He shall remain undead
Until a disaster strikes.