FREIBURG AND CATMANDU (Satis Shroff)
Freiburg: the finest spire in Christendom,
Which bombs couldn’t destroy
In two Great Wars.
Old men pulled carts with their belongings,
Along the rubbled Kaiser-Joseph-Strasse.
Women were taken to dances,
By African American GIs.
Children received chocolates.
‘Hallo Fräulein!’ did the rounds,
In poverty-stricken, ramshackled Germany.
The GIs returned years later to admire
The splendour of cities they’d bombed.
The Fräuleins were elderly ladies now,
Who frequented posh cafes, operas and lectures.
Catmandu: the all-seeing-eyes
Of the primordeal Buddha,
Still welcomes visitors
From around the globe.
The hippies have long left
This cannabis paradise of yore.
Its hotels and trekking lodges offer
Western food galore,
And fast-climbs for dudes and nerds
To Everest.
The Gurkhas still die under foreign skies,
For the Queen of England.
The Sherpas and porters carry the sahib’s loads,
Suffer from acute-mountain-sickness,
Or still die as unsung heroes,
As Tigers of the Snow.
The children still beg in its streets
Or work in shady backrooms,
Of outsourced fashion firms.
Cat Stevens sings as Yusuf even today.
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