God’s Dilemma
Bangalore, India
2022, Senior, Poetry & Spoken Word
When I was nine and a little bit naive,
Loved mangoes for summer, so I wanted it to stay,
So, I did what I could I begged and said,
“Hey Lord, give me summer for two more days.”
The summer didn’t stop, but the school did start
I understood that God understood my assignment all wrong
How come in the city of thunderstorms
My city Bangalore had summer half a year long.
With summer half a year long
And with water only half a day left
I got no mangoes and
The farmers got no food on their plate
My mom hence explained
that the floods in the north made my mangoes stale
and the drought in the south
left farmers with no grain to sell.
So, I did what I could I begged and said,
“Hey Lord, I need monsoon in the two next days.”
And in a fortnight, I was almost dead
Lying with some hundred others all with dread
Some came for typhoid due to water they drank
And another half came due to monsoon’s malaria spread.
So, I did what I could I begged and said,
“Hey Lord, I need the perfect climate in the two next days.”
Where the sun and water take their equal share
And the loss of life is just an ugly nightmare.
But in a week no response came
By now I was tired and so were my hundred friends
With brooms in right, and slogans in left
And with enthusiasm from years, we kept
We started with streets and then to beaches we leapt
Felt the joy of helping, so many tears we wept.
I was begging someone for help almost every day
Be it God or government we expect miracles from heaven anigh,
So, I did what I could I begged and said,
“Hey Lord, give us the strength to clean our mess,
and just stay with us for two more days.”
Reflection
Reflection
My family and I first moved to Bangalore when I was only one year old, now I am 17. I saw my city going through three different stages: first, "the garden city of India"; second, "the concrete city of India"; and last, "the garbage city of India.” I remember my eight-year-old self being utterly confused seeing the transition, and I wanted to capture the same emotions in my poem through comedy and satire. I saw my city changing 180 degrees from monsoon capital to a place of frequent water shortages. I wanted to depict the irony of how Bangalore, located in the south of the state of Karnataka, went through floods, while the north of our state went through drought. The floods caused a rise in the number of diseases, such as typhoid, malaria, and dengue, and I and thousands of others were victims of it. Even the traumatising news of farmers committing suicide due to climate change was a common occurrence. In the end, my message to the viewers is the same as the ending stanza of my poem: instead of hoping for a miraculous change from the gods or the government, let us be that miraculous change ourselves.