75. Of Prose, Poetry and a Crocodile

How much better can a Sunday get when I have the opportunity to share seat with Padmashree Mamang Dai, one of my favourite writers from the Northeast? It's better than the best. And when the entire morning is dedicated to a reading session of prose, poetry, Haiku and cerebrally eloquent writers from the whole of the Northeast, there is little much I could think of but to just merge into the luminosity of the luminaries and thank my lucky stars that I am a part of the Northeast Writers' Forum.

Singing entails a lot of deep breathing between each sentence unlike an anchoring session, which involves only short intakes of oxygen. But after my decision to take up singing as a hobby, I have little chances of going back to short-paced thinking, obviously understanding that my teacher is going at a wildly break-neck speed. Keeping pace is difficult but not impossible 'cause for me impossible is nothing, even while "The Crocodile" furtively watches my every strain, making me wonder at times if it might 'snap' at me lest I falter at the lyrics.

The Crocodile

If you were to stand on the banks of the Nile

In the sweltering Sun and with sand in the air,

You'd have to beware of the bold crocodile,

For he and his friends would surely be there.

With a lashing and thrashing of terrible tail, 

And a snapping and clapping of horrible jaws,

He searches for food and should he find your trail,

He wouldn't say no to a body like yours.

They say he can live for a great many years

With his crocodile skin like an armoured car

Because of his teeth there is nothing he fears;

When he's seen in a zoo, you are safer by far.

And now that my story is nearly complete,

Of the crocodile's habits I'm sure you might dream;

But remember, the only one you'll chance to meet

Is the lizard who lives on the banks of a stream.

The words and music are both by Peter Jenkyns (1921-96)