From: rsd@ccrl.nj.nec.com (Rajiv Dighe)
Subject: Musings of a disgruntled suburbanite (Poem-Long)
Organization: C&C Research Labs, NEC USA, Princeton, N.J.
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 92 17:11:48 GMT

		Ramblings of a reluctant Suburbanite

I live the American dream.
part skimmed milk, part cream
Is it a comfortable dream
or does one wake up with a scream ?

A few weeks ago, our ceiling developed a leak
a surprise ? hardly, nary a shriek
same-to-same thing happened sometime last year
so this time I faced it without a fear

"Shouldnt we call a roofer ?" asked the better half
"Naah, its blown in from the attic window" I said with a laugh
This fanciful theory was courtesy my neighbour
whom I had warmly clasped to my bosom-for saving me the labour

This time I did a better job
instead of sticking it with tape and some glob
I removed the sheet rock, for a change
a certifiable act I'm told-quite deranged

I drilled the new sheetrock onto the stud
after it landed on my head many a times with a thud
then I stuck the tape with compound spackle
which squarely hit me on the face amid spousal cackles 

And then I sanded
 and spackled
		and sanded
		  and spackled
and sanded
   and spackled
		thinking I was stranded
	     and shackled
in this never-never land of non-uniformity
this endless mindless quest for conformity
(it can know be told
if I may be so bold
I still sanding
and spackling)

Somehow that is an apt metaphor
for the state of my life in stupor
an unending battle to maintain the facade
of a seamless creaseless existence-bloody charade

Last weekend was our big date
with Mother Nature and boy, was she irate
we surveyed the state of the lawn
and decided to grab the bull by the horn

It was time to shake and rake
and vow that future houses will be in a lake
Raking by itself can be a very cerebral act
when you have time on your side- not just react

But as I gently turned my barren earth 
memories flooded from the past-clearly no dearth
As the winds would suddenly reach a calm
I smiled to meself as I thought of KILLAM

KILLAM was my friend MALLIK's magnum opus
witty, humorous it sharply brought to focus
the plight of the bachelor drafted for chores
in return for a hot meal and lecture on mores 


And even before that I remember times in S.Bend
when Desi professors invited us for odds & ends
They thought that feeding us was payment enough
for after all we were the youth-rough and tough

The "hungry graduate student" was even then a myth
but we were too polite to openly admit it
and it always made for a good tale
in the dark nights as we walked the campus trail 

In those days our time was considered cheap
as bachelors there was clearly no excuse too deep
but somehow we had still had our freedom to reap
and we never felt shackled or a felt a climb was too steep

Clearly then the world was at our feet
no task too big, no fear of defeat
I thought about our old crew
and wondered how many still knew

the challenges of tasks unfamiliar
the ability to smile and still steer
how many would now rise to my invitation to clear
my yard of leaves for a keg of beer ?

I can now see a litany of reasons
for not being the man for all seasons
Bad Back
Daddy Track
Spousal Attacks
Spare time I do lack

And then came a sickening thought
it was not even a question of how many could be bought
but how many were even able
to tackle these tasks and still be stable

Most of us have become quite old
Atrophy spreading in with the cold
As our joints begin to creak
and we do our tasks with feelings weak

Then there is the New Jersey Rat Race
as we try hard to keep up with the pace
weekdays are spent driving to and from work
as for weekends-chores that we cannot shirk

These were my thoughts as I gathered the leaves
and anxiously watched the darkening eve
15 bags full and I have just done my front lawn
"the sidewalks and the backyard is left" it is beginning to dawn 

So I have inherited the AMERICAN dream
I lead the life of the creme-de-creme
a house I have mortgaged my life for
a lawn that looks like the S. Florida shore
(post-Andrew it goes without saying
but I better stop that thought as I am straying)
Each weekend there is a laundry list
of things overdue-if you catch my drift
where is the time to smell the roses ?
which reminds me- I have to trim the posies
who would believe the amount of work 
that a man must do to enjoy his perks ?
When will this cycle of Karma end ?
as I longingly look at my days in S. Bend..

Rajiv-"Queschen is Why not How"-Dighe