SAINT THOMAS, VERSE 142
Mark Traill
27 May 2008, 17:50Old colonial sergeant
Has been here now some time
He built a station in a swamp
And help lay down the lines
Everyday he walks to
This platform and its trains
And everyday he sees his face
When he departs for Thane
Old and humble Mahar
Has been here longer yes
He’s making pots and selling them
Beneath the figure of progress
And everyday he sees his face
He’s seen it now a lot
The gentle man in white attire
Who never buys a pot
Summers died and monsoons cried
The time did fall away
Sergeant was now Field Marshall
And Mahar’s beard was grey
The Marshall would retire soon
Return to Glasgow City
On final day, VT Bombay
He found his curiosity
Marching down steps to the potter
To carefully study his trade
“I’ve seen you sitting out here before
I’m surprised that you’re not made”
Mahar smiled his biggest smile
“And which one is for you?
A hearty chap, so I suggest
That you should purchase two?”
“I’ve never had to buy a pot
But still your work is good
Why not invest in billboards stating
Your good name in wood?”
“Why Sahib? But you just said
My work is just exquisite
That surely is in itself
Enough for you to visit?”
“…when profits up then you’ll give up
Your home beside these steps
That surely is in itself
Enough for you to accept?”
Mahar’s ears were dressed in fur
Which bristled to the brogue
Of the Marshall, and his plan
To smoothen Mahar’s road
“…then after that you can employ
A boy to do this chore
And you’ll spend all day making pots
I’m sure you’d make much more”
“This sounds to me like lots of work
But I like the idea now
Please do go on tell me how
This plan will finish now?”
“….investment is the key my friend
And industry besides
You build a great big factory here
And say Mahar with pride!”
“That sounds grand my friend sahib
Then what of this adventure?
How does Mahar finish this
And use up the expenditure?”
“Then you like me will go home soon
To sit around and gaze
You can do nothing if you want
And never work for days”
