He stood there, an arm’s length away, and for the first time I saw him for who he was. At once, I was the shy kid who used to only come out from the bedroom when his parents asked him to “come and say hello to so-and-so Uncle and Aunty”. A second later, I was reading and absorbing his presence and reeling from the fatigue I saw on his aged face. It hit me then, here is a man older even than my own grandfather, who has been on his feet all day, and he deserves now to put up his feet and savor a cup of hot coffee. Was I going to press my blundering self and meaningless questions upon him when he was in such a state? My thoughts turned as the reporter from the Huntsville Times started off on his question. The newswoman from Fox 54 put her mike on him (with his permission, of course) and we “settled” into the humdrum of a press conference.The questions sounded usual to me, but these other newspersons had never met him, and the monotony helped me find my reason and voice. I asked him about student exchange programs (one more silent vow circumambulates my mind) and I got the answer in a pat. Questions were traded about research facilities, space programs and space physics. Suddenly, all the regular questions had been asked. My inner urge to seek the man rather than the ex-President finally burst forth – Will we be reading about Huntsville in your poetry? –and in the proverbial blink of an eye, he changed. He smiled hugely, and with much animation, said that we might - “since the ideas were definitely flowing here.” Having stepped across the threshold into his personal space, I presented my little book of poems as an introduction, and spoke to him in the language-of-home, and sought his blessings. He skimmed through a poem and penned his “Greetings” to my Welcome, and signed it – A.P.J. Abdul Kalam.
Hours later, I reflected on all dominoes whose fall led to this chance meeting. In choosing to forsake ambition, and let life “guide” me unto the path of wisdom, I had met with some unforgettable moments. As Gulzar put it, when a moment fell off of time, only a legend was found, the moment nowhere. My own story is not studded with legends, but the moments have found form in my poems. I have struggled with misunderstood notions of duty, affinity and human happiness, but as I wake from today unto tomorrow, I know but this – I have met one more person on this beautiful planet to whom the very mention of poetry is a refreshing gust on a day of endless slog.
Of Presidents, and Poems, and human happiness
A smile, is indeed the finest finesse
What stony countenance be that
which poetry does not positively affect
‘tis but such like that forever shut out regrets
Of Time, and Place, and gentle ironies
A smile, mostly, will put one at ease
Can history not bear witness?
Will geography leave no memorial?
Of tiny miracles, such as these
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