An Encomium On One Who Needs None

He has a Roman nose, bright eyes, flashy teeth, Chocolate brown complexion, Features which animate only when he interacts— Otherwise, typical unscholarly looks! A nonconformist in religion, a revolutionary in spirit, A stoic in practice— Epithets can be multiplied. Sought strange experiences: Travelling in a locomotive, Witnessing a surgery, Learning math on his own. And living on a glass of lassi, Which I would call starving! He speaks with conviction. His memory is prodigious; To call him a philosopher is no cliché: He is one by temperament and self-training; Teaches philosophy involuntarily—as praxis, As ‘a set of operations,’ as he’d put it. No nonsense, No snobbery: He has been To New York—as a Fulbright Scholar, To Oxford—as a Visiting Scholar. Never chips in to say, “When I was in England/US….” Never affects an accent. He is an Indian source of the Poststructuralist virus, And I was the one immediately infected— On his return to India From his stint at New York. The infection still remains—incurable! His love of me is something like election love: Parallels are Krishna and Kuchela, Kopperuncholan and Picirantaiyar, Johnson and Boswell. Would speak for me Without my knowledge or consent! We have stuck together For about five decades now, Defying the Machiavellian dictum: There are No permanent friends or enemies in life! He can’t, ugh, bring himself to love a pet— On which subject We violently disagree: He dubs me St. Francis of Assisi, though! Was born at Christmas And so christened Noel! — Ram, .R.V.