Song for the Prez

So while the world applauds the serene and stoic stance of Mr Obama, I’d like to write a few words of Dylan in his encouragement, in the hope that our Indian leaders may also take something from such an individual, writes Luke Kenny.

History is made. The US has its first African-American Prez 45 years after Martin Luther King Jr predicted it.

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Barack Obama, in his speech on Tuesday, spoke for the US in conjunction with the rest of the world.. which has looked upon them as leaders in several respects, though not as followers. While they have offered much to modern civilisation and popular culture, the world has taken only the best of it, much to their amazement.

After George Bush retired, we saw history being carried on the dignified shoulders of Mr Obama.

At this point, I remember the Bob Dylan song, Chimes of freedom.. which applies to his ideology and insight quite remarkably. Ironically, Dylan performed the song at the swearing-in ceremony of Bill Clinton in 1993.

So while the world applauds the serene and stoic stance of Mr Obama, I’d like to write a few words of Dylan in his encouragement, in the hope that our Indian leaders may also take something from such an individual.

Those famous lines
An individual who is ..for the warriors whose strength is not to fight, for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight, for each and every underdog soldier in the night.

A leader who, in the war against terror, has commited to ..strike for the gentle, strike for the kind, strike for the guardians and protectors of the mind, and the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time.

A gentleman who strives to uplift the spirits of …the deaf n blind and the mute, the mistreated.. mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute.. the misdemeanor outlaw, chased and cheated by pursuit.

And when Mr Obama ended his speech, we saw the millions present and the billions watching on TV, cheer, shed tears, applaud and scream with joy. I then saw fit to apply this last verse of the song, Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flashed?

An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting? Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones?
Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting? Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail?

For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale? An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail?
An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing. Best of luck Mr Obama…if I may say so.