Malgudi blues

Malgud blues

i went to Mysore
a charming town
that reminded me
of old bangalore
i went there to see
the man who took me
to a place that doesn't exist
the immortal malgudi

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

of sweet vendors
little children
village cricket and
financial experts
he quietly wrote
charming little stories
of a world so familiar
and yet, so remote

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

and then i saw it
RK's Mysore home
it stood there
silent and comely
like a muse
rich with possibilities
waiting to be engaged
alas it was not to be

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

i was politely told
by a faceless caretaker
that it's best to go easy
on the flash photography.
i wasn't miffed
nor did i feel insulted
for it went hand in hand
with the great man's personality

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

then, after 34 novels
and over 100 short stories
the man who taught greene
the meaning of indian
and left us his malgudi
at the ripe old age of 94
he was gone
his spirit lived on.

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na

one day, i will return
to gentle joys of Mysore
and trip once again
down memory lane
to re-visit the place
only RK could see
and paint a picture of
... his immortal malgudi

ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na
ta-na-na, ta-na-na-na-na