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The View

Sunder And Sonati

The View

Sitting on Hippo Rock
I see below me
In the valley
A chequerboard of greens
That glistening green is
Potti's paddy field
Yet to be harvested
Potti, the rough diamond
With whom we had
Our first fight here
With whom we are
Now good friends
The yellow-greens are
Parman's rice-straw stubble
Parman, who let us use his well
When we first arrived
Those yellowing cornfields are
Thenan's and Govindan's
Whose father Potti
Stole a few cobs for us
From his sons' fields
When he dropped by last month
That verappu there
Either side of which are fallow fields
Was the scene of a bloody fight
Which nearly ended in murder
Many years ago
The fallow fields are a testimony
That the feud has not ended yet
Each green patch has
Its history
Each green patch
In the intricate patchwork
Is someone's land
Tended
Cared for
Loved
Fought over
Sometimes killed for
The view, however, is all mine
I am, for now,
The monarch of all I survey
(Or possibly just
A fool on the hill)