The Best of the Night To You, Too, Bala - Part Two

Part Two Do you remember your run-up to the crease your Lindwall-delivery dragging the clasping flannel round hobbled boots your anger at the wicket that went on a no-ball Do you remember your opening bat that snicked the runs to leg and off which dozing umpires signalled as byes from pads Do you remember Brigitte her perky bobtail her boucles of prancing hair lances on her forehead sickles on her verti-vir-ginous temples Where are the bridges you have crossed and those you had planned and those you saw grow pebble by pylon and cementing stone where the roads you laid up virgin forest and limestone Where indeed the buildings you repaired erected re-erected and razed and the thousands and thousands of miles you rode the wild seladang of the primeval jungle hand on hump with no stars in the paly night to guide you through venomous blukar and the boiling green torture seared deep into your burning entrails these that now have run out on you Watch now how the river glues under your fuming stare when the monsoon torrents sweep the knock-knee-ed pylons to a side those dry as split-bark legs of yours itching once too often in comforting company though a little spindly for a Pied Piper Yet you made the puppety Peninsula run down drains and monsoon pipes to a purge-full sea Who is there now who wouldn't wake to your fits of irrupting gurgly merriment to ease the tension amongst unlikely fellows Who who wouldn't miss your seething whiteheat glee at his side You who knew how to accompany Kay and Richard up to the closed door of your last night a very good night on your lips Your opening bat's duty done the side shored-up in safekeeping the last fast breathless ball you faced nicking the bails off You needn't return to the pavilion for the standing ovation goes on for you Bala long after the cloddy-stumps lie slain on the tiled floor © T.Wignesan 1993 August 8, 1993 - Paris [from the collection: back to background material, 1993]