Monday, July 2, 2012


nisha g

[Man claims, "There is God". Again the athiests protest, "No such God". Even if God exists or not, or this topic is far beyond our talks; still man plays many cruel games in the name of God and sacred places of worship. Here is a poor elephant cry. Who finally becomes a martyr in the, hands of these fanatics ...]         '
My swinging ears hear,
            Temple bells melody ring;
An inner grace helps me,
            Bear these festival drums.
Ah! A single step ahead,
            No I cannot now make;
Black iron chains do challenge,
            A sore on my heavy foot.
Memories of forests swim;
            In full coolness towards me,
All in a sudden haze,
            Hides me and my brain.
In Green's plenty a day-
            I did rally my friends
On a dawn few drones;
            hizzed silly stories in ears.
In the dust on hot noons,
            Madly when I sprawled-
Rains came dancing down.
            Rattled on my black bark.
But that two legged fiends;
            Set into tempest our calm days.
A day they came to trap us,
            To take to your service, God!
Bathe me up, gave food heaps,
            Ornamented me, I a king?
Never could I love these all,
            But the green's ripe August fruits,
 Festivals came it's hue and fun,
            Lord your idol sat on my back;

Days I had to stand before you
            your worshippers never let me rest.
 In your sacred name O' Lord,
            I walked many many miles…
Canes cut my coarse black skin;
            you heard it not, Lord?
Here men have in chains locked you,
            your locks stronger than mine;
Under religion’s red banner
            Strongly shout as they like.
A while, if a while you get,
            Just come out of temples, see-
See your million pious;
            Devotees chant your name.
They bow at your feet,
            Pooh! What a true devotion!
A 'hundred Judases' offer you flowers
            My little eyes then softly tear.
Ah! Pain! hundred red flowers
            They sprout out my poor foot;
 Harriers harass my strength,
            And all that in your name.
Ravens! Black Ravens! everywhere. . .
            Around my watery eyes do fly
 In a raving fit my voice cry;
            A whirl-pool before me, my Lord!