The day Gunga Din drove me to the airport

Last night, on my way back from Rochester (the one in Minnesota), I hailed a cab from right outside my hotel at Rochester Downtown. The weather was just beautiful - temps in low 70s (Fahrenheits of-course) and it was just slightly breezy. But, I was just dead tired to enjoy the weather much at that point, leave alone the cab ride to the airport. The cab's driver was a very genial looking Caucasian gentleman. I found out later that he was 60+. He gave me his name just as Chuck.

Rochester airport is not more than 10 or so miles south of the downtown. Factoring in all the traffic lights and some afternoon traffic it must only have taken the cab 15 minutes to get me to the airport. But, as tired as I was, when I got off the cab at the airport, I was smiling ear to ear. Somehow, my conversation with Chuck, during our ride to the airport, veered to Rudyard Kipling and his composition Gunga Din. And Chuck knew the entire Gunga Din by heart. How do I know - he recited the whole thing for me while driving me to the airport, complete with flourishes where they should be and how they should be! It was so much fun listening to him recite the poem, and especially because he did not miss a note or a syllable from the non-English words in this poem. It was just brilliant - it was the best cab ride I've had to date. As far as various professions go, cab drivers have always been one of the two favorite people of mine to strike a conversation with - the other being barbers at hair salons. More on that some other day.

Here's a shout out to Chuck - Thanks Chuck, for making my day, giving me an unforgettable moment with Gunga Din, and for bringing back for me some cherished memories of school days, and that too with one of my favorite English poems that I hadn't recited or listened to in a long-long time.

The complete Gunga Din by Rudyard Kipling (it was sourced from here) below. Just a few pointers so you can enjoy reciting this poem as it was meant to be recited, and enjoyed:
1. Gunga Din is an Indian (/Hindi) name. It can be one word (Gungadin) or it can be two words (Gunga Din), but you'll still stay it the same way - Gungadin.
2. It is Gunga as in Gun+ga, and not Goonga.
3. Din part of the name will actually be pronounced as 'Deen' or 'Dean', and not Din (as in loud noise).
4. If you do not speak Hindi, have one of your friends from India help you say the few Hindi words in this poem right, and ask your friends the meanings to those words as well. Better yet, ask your friend to recite this poem out loud once! Not only will you enjoy the poem, I promise you, your Indian friend will too!
5. Ok, one last suggestion: If you've never ever heard of this poem, or listened to someone else recite it, I'd suggest you play one of the embedded youtube videos at the bottom of this post, and then follow the lyrics of the poem as the gentleman in the video recites the poem in the background. I especially like the recitation in the first video by Robert Hardy.

Rhyme away.

Gunga Din

YOU may talk o' gin an' beer
When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
But if it comes to slaughter
You will do your work on water,
An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
Now in Injia's sunny clime,
Where I used to spend my time
A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
Of all them black-faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!
You limping lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
Hi! slippy hitherao!
Water, get it! Panee lao!
You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din!"

The uniform 'e wore
Was nothin' much before,
An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
For a twisty piece o' rag
An' a goatskin water-bag
Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
When the sweatin' troop-train lay
In a sidin' through the day,
Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
We shouted "Harry By!"
Till our throats were bricky-dry,
Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.

It was "Din! Din! Din!
You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
You put some juldee in it,
Or I'll marrow you this minute,
If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done,
An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
If we charged or broke or cut,
You could bet your bloomin' nut,
'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
With 'is mussick on 'is back,
'E would skip with our attack,
An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire."
An' for all 'is dirty 'ide,
'E was white, clear white, inside
When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!

It was "Din! Din! Din!"
With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
When the cartridges ran out,
You could 'ear the front-files shout:
"Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

I sha'n't forgit the night
When I dropped be'ind the fight
With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
I was chokin' mad with thirst,
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.

'E lifted up my 'ead,
An' 'e plugged me where I bled,
An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water—green;
It was crawlin' an' it stunk,
But of all the drinks I've drunk,
I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.

It was "Din! Din! Din!
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground an' 'e's kickin' all around:
For Gawd's sake, git the water, Gunga Din!"

'E carried me away
To where a dooli lay,
An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
'E put me safe inside,
An' just before 'e died:
"I 'ope you liked your drink," sez Gunga Din.
So I'll meet 'im later on
In the place where 'e is gone—
Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
'E'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to pore damned souls,
An' I'll get a swig in Hell from Gunga Din!

Din! Din! Din!
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you,
By the livin' Gawd that made you,
You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

Gunga Din by Rudyard Kipling, by Robert Hardy (posted on youtube by poetictouchannel):


Gunga Din by Rudyard Kipling, (posted on youtube by Caspar33):