Insoiration is Taking The Other Route

[SivaRamanathan]

V1

My son is with the batallion on Punjab border
this side of Pakistan. Military jeeps roll on to
the next northern state from Uttar Pradesh.
The military are the potential buyers of drones.
My son sends video on Whatapps., insect drones
whizzing twenty kilometres into three different villages
dropping first aid, masks, medicines.
The masks get dropped like descending crows.
The video focuses on two or three tents with attenders.
My son doesn’t talk much. This is highly confidential.
He is pukka professional, top secret. No propaganda.
The drones can carry three kg to five kg.
His team is here, his drones around fifteen, his boss.
There is a girl in the picture. When he was a kid
I gave him a toy paper boat motor for real--
that propelled his direction to drones. At first
though he was only a pick up boy. Then slowly
slowly into the team. His aeronautics took him to IISC
then M.Sc in Perdue and now a start-up company.
The IISC might invite him once more. Government
will make a bid. The drones that journeyed
from Bangalore were shaken beyond proportion;
this time they built their drones in the Thar desert.

Every day I ask him, where are you? Ganga Nagar
Abohar. What does it matter? GPS, GPS, just
to know all is safe. Good night, I say, and he,
No Propaganda. Dont put it on Face Book.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After Lockdown started, my husband turned the tables
from making knitted garments and switched over
to masks. Three- layered -masks. Reasonably
safe filters. Washable some twenty five times.
Soon from Koyembedu market to hospitals
Loyal Masks became popular like Appalams.
The Tatas get notification. One lakh masks.
From across the bordering State Chandrababu Naidu
ribbons into Tamil Nadu. Conference call, Zoom
into factories. Labour gets paid double over.
No, not with ink ; just word of mouth.

My son is with the batallion on Punjab border
this side of Pakistan. Military jeeps roll on to
the next northern state from Uttar Pradesh.
The military are the potential buyers of drones.
My son sends video on Whatapps., insect drones
whizzing twenty kilometres into three different villages
dropping first aid, masks, medicines.
The masks get dropped like descending crows.
The video focuses on two or three tents with attenders.
My son doesn’t talk much. This is highly confidential.
He is pukka professional, top secret. No propaganda.
The drones can carry three kg to five kg.
His team is here, his drones around fifteen, his boss.
There is a girl in the picture. When he was a kid
I gave him a toy paper boat motor for real--
that propelled his direction to drones. At first
though he was only a pick up boy. Then slowly
slowly into the team. His aeronautics took him to IISC
then M.Sc in Perdue and now a start-up company.
The IISC might invite him once more. Government
will make a bid. The drones that journeyed
from Bangalore were shaken beyond proportion;
this time they built their drones in the Thar desert.

Every day I ask him, where are you? Ganga Nagar
Abohar. What does it matter? GPS, GPS, just
to know all is safe. Good night, I say, and he,
No propaganda. Dont put it on Face Book.

[BobBradshaw]

Siva, I like that you're writing about your son. The first 11 lines set the scene nicely. I don't think you need the rest of the opening stanza. It meanders without emotionally deepening the relationship between mother and son. I like the closing stanza as well. But I think you miss out on the best opportunity here, to explore the mother's worries for her son. I would explore that emotional realm between the opening 11 lines and the closing stanza. That's where the heart of the poem should lie.

My son is with the batallion on Punjab border
this side of Pakistan. Military jeeps roll on to
the next northern state from Uttar Pradesh.
The military are the potential buyers of drones.
My son sends video on Whatapps., insect drones
whizzing twenty kilometres into three different villages
dropping first aid, masks, medicines.
The masks get dropped like descending crows.
The video focuses on two or three tents with attenders.
My son doesn’t talk much. This is highly confidential.
He is pukka professional, top secret. No propaganda.

[SivaRamanathan]

Bob
V1 is the edited version.Do I have to drop the drones?
S

[BobBradshaw]

The drones shouldn’t be the focus. The focus should be on the mom’s concerns for her child, her worries heightened by the limited information that he can provide her.

[SivaRamanathan]

Thanks.