The following is a 2nd Goorkha version of a poem written by Major Peter Sparks (1914 – 2003) that was originally published in Punch in 1949. It was
subsequently republished in the 1950 edition of Regimental News, whose editor commented that the Sirmoor erudition was rather shattering, but this
could be attributed to the brilliant conversation which is usually heard in the Mess……
Lady, in your crimson sari, undulating up the queue
For the fast eleven -thirty, Bournemouth – bound from Waterloo,
Do you like the way we travel? Aren’t our platforms cold and pale ?
Don’t you hanker for the chaos of the old Calcutta Mail ?
Do you never miss the voices crying coconuts and pan,
Crying water for the Hindu, water for the Mussulman;
Miss the crowded wooden benches in the dilatory train,
Miss the three- day – journey to the distant village in the dusty plain?
Where the smoke of burning cow dung spreads its homesick – making smell
And your sisters, softly swaying, balance homeward from the well
Tier on tier of brazen vessels ? Do you never long to see
Kites and bubuls, crows and mynahs? Bullock carts ? A peepal tree?
Would the evening howl of jackals still be music to your ears?
Have you heard the West a- calling through the voice of Donald Peers ?*
Do you go for Veeraswamy’s chillies, turmeric and rice
Or exotic puddings, apple flans and cottage pies?
Have you left your Mother Ganges, turned your back on Kali’s shrine,
For a pilgrimage to Boscombe, Canford Cliffs and Branksome Chine?
Madam, take my reservation in the Tudor dining car.
Where’s the queue for Coromandel? When’s the train to Malabar?
*Donald Peers (1908 – 1973 ) was a popular Welsh-born singer
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