Many recognize and acknowledge
The enigma that he is
Knowing he is an enigma
Is not quite the same
As knowing what the enigma is
Some things are not menat to be understood
But merely loved, either from near
Or from afar
Do not try to probe
There is nothing underneath
That is the enigma
How things issue
From that emptiness
Where neither identity resides
Nor any residue of time
Spontaneity itself is charmed
By this enigmatic man
Who is not quite a man
Though walking around
Almost aimlessly
In the woman’s world
But still remaining
That guy in khakhi knickers
And of course sneakers
Which boy Brinda Karat
Addressed so endearingly
And the little comrade not yet 17
Remembers to this day
And that proved to him
Communists are the real deal
Throw in Che into the mix
And his world is complete
The compass has landed in his lap
And now he will not get lost
In our adult world
As he goes around
With his peculiar look
That sees right through to your bones
And can tell what is ailing you
This bloke called Samudrala
Vamshi Krishna, in whose name
Rama does not belong
As those girls he flirts with
Would testify
And I am slowly learning
To flirt with him myself
Though sometimes I get confused
Who is playing whom.
Know Thyself 