I CHANT... by sathyanarayana (story reading TXT) 📕

I CHANT, CHANT AND CHANT
AND OTHER POEMS


sathyanarayana


MAKERS

Meddle with some gadget; say a radio
a T.V., a cell phone or a clock
for an hour or so. You know
how to make it work.

Take a screw driver and open it.
Spoil a dozen of such in a row.
You may learn how to repair it
or the parts, you just have to throw.

But lo! You can’t make it.
There's someone else,
who fits it screw by screw, plate by plate
and instills in it running pulse.
The maker! The architect! The expert!
Admire him, love him and bow to him.

So are the animal and plant gadgets;
the superior and complex conundrums;
creations of a Maker, the greatest!!
Admire Him, love Him and Bow to Him.


BELIEVE IN GOD

Believe in God; in His might!
Ram, Allah or Jesus Christ...
as you like; as you trust!


When relatives desert;
when friends forget
...still you have on your side
the Omnipotent
to listen to your plight.

You yourself will see
His charity melt
ablating your painful ailment
and filling your heart
wih divine fulfilment.


THE GOLDEN LOTUS

Wandering in the wilderness; my friend
what are you looking for...
the golden lotus with thousand petals?

Look out! The Satanic flames
are burning the woods,
reaching the tarns,
parching the waters
levelling the lakes
to desiccated mud cakes.
and razing down the paths
off their identity
spitting the venom of sin
everywhere.

But, be not sceptic my dear;
for the surrounding enigma
is just superfluous
and what is lost is not yours.

Remember the truth; the path is
eternal, naïve and well nigh.


In the grand finale
the search always ends within.

Clear your bleary eyes;
shut them to leap
deep into the tranquillity
spread before you.

Behold the blossoming bed
of flowery path
reaching thou
to the avowed destiny...
the golden lotus
with thousand petals...


HOT KILN

He shouts “Help me everyone
Come on! I’m in a kiln...
Burning is my bare skin! ”

Further whines and complains
“Don’t you have compassion
for a suffering fellow-man?”

A Wiseman explains, “Well!
That’s your hand-made hearth.
Smouldering in it are fuels
raw, rough and cruel charcoals
you dug out from the darkest
corners of your heart
and piled out around in your life!

“Lust, greed and great anger;
envy, passion and dirty conceit;
all ensemble to blaze hell fires
in your hollow mind furnace!”


“To pull you out: there’s none.
A friend can wipe your tears
as an act of mere solace.”

“Even God on your prayers
can give you only strength
to endure this scorching pain!
To pull you out there’s none!!”

The woebegone man in the kiln
shouts again, “What’s the solution?”

Wiseman smiled and advised
“It’s simple my dear friend...
stand up...and just walk out!”


HORNPIPES

Wealthy I am! Can wager on vices.
Eager they’re too to take me to zenith...
avarice-whisky, anger-cigarettes and
lust-harlots lined up to keep me afloat
through pseudo-pleasures of life.
Hornpipes somewhere inside hoot cautions
“Yards nigh you’re to Judgment day”.


BELLS

Bells are ringing...away in wilds
blaring aloud enchanting tales
and again trailing under deafening gales...

Bells are ringing...within...in mind
peeling out plucky feelings to spurt
as well thundering every confession to blurt...

Bells are ringing...always... in life
scaring every step you tread; you dare;
sparing once in a sin you perpetrate...

Bells, bells and bells...everywhere;
caressing the undulated inner lines;
polishing the dormant senses...
loud or mellowed...
harsh or sonorous...
have a heart; find a taste...
for the chimes that define
in life, every plane and élan...


IDOLS

I played with toys
of names varied and of shapes varied.
I played, I played and I played
till I learned
the rules of the game...
how to earn
the core pleasure
even after casting off
the superfluous contours.

But I’m not ungrateful
nor unmindful
of their help
in my finding the grain
from the myth of the shell...
my ascent from the depths
of ignorance
to the heights
of omniscience;
from a mere acquaintance
to a near amalgamation
through their silent lessons.


I discovered at last
the scintillating macrocosm
of the tiny toys
I once played with
with the same faces and miens
innumerable and immaculate
alll in one unfathomable fountainhead.

Now I look back once in a while
and bow with obeisance
to my immobile
Guardian Angels;
my harbingers.

They seem to be smiling at me
with muffled approbation
and winking at me
indicating that...
I am nearing...my destination.


KNOW GOD

You want to know the God...
wish to pave a path, direct
to His ornate abode.

Read scriptures, listen to words
of saints and wise men,
bath in waters sacred
and visit holy shrines...

But bear in mind!
From truth when you unwind;
when shun you,
your duties bounden;
for money when you greed;
when you spurn the feeble and needy
and as long as your mind
is filled with hatred and envy
I’m afraid your path is never ready...
remains just stone and sand.

And one more hint!
There is no entry into His precincts
for those hidebound maniacs
wearing distinctive marks!!


OMNISCENCE

From these choking airs and flairs
I wish I can evaporate into the thin air.

From this false courage and obsession
that I know this; that I know that
I wish I can plummet
deep into some kind of oblivion.

Of late I have this haunting feeling
that my quibbling mind needs
a scrupulous cleansing
and that my craving heart too needs
a good deal of scornful scrubbing.

And in quiescence, in quiescence;
in absolute quiescence
I wish to soak all my senses
till they come out with pristine radiance
exuding an all new omniscience
...that I know nothing...
truly nothing!


SEVEN FRIENDS

Oh man! Going in a golden palanquin...
ever thought, what is going on in those minds
of those, who are bearing your burden...
and those hundreds following your path, blind?

Why they ignore their aching shoulders, and
laugh at your irritating ill-humour?
Look! Their sights are on your amassed lucre...
yet, afraid of the power-snake on your guard.

When that vile serpent slips into the grass
they ground you and flee with your fortune
and don’t dither to laugh at your traipse;
this time loudmouthed, with obscene lampoon.

Thus passes easily, your ill-gotten buck
to another waiting ill-minded crook!!
Fancy vehicles of vicissitudes
vanish like smoke, when blow more knavish winds!!!


Come on! Join our clan of pedestrians.
I have just seven friends; no slaves, to claim.
When I fall in my walk, they raise me anon;
when I bow they bless and when I rile they tame.

They share my tears and triumph; dream and feel
with spirit, unconditional and earnest
giving me grit, morale and might to battle
against the fetters, this life puts me to test.

When dead, on that fateful date, I’m sure
they take me, over their shoulders, with honour
tenderly, not to hurt my both remains, with care
and affably reach me safe, those heaven’s doors.

(Seven friends stand for seven virtues, viz. faith, hope, charity, justice, prudence, temperance and fortitude)

PROD, GOD AND ALL

Standing before me, the mountain;
tall, black, strong and impregnable;
challenging my nerve and gumption;
ready to laugh if I fail and dribble.

But I must cross it, that’s my will
my life; need dire and my future.
Between being sceptic and hopeful
at the task uphill, I fritter.

The lull is painful and I stare
at all directions for some aid;
not sure, who’s there really to care.
I prayed God; looked for some sign; odd

Someone’s there at the altitude;
real or my pipe dream’s contour
knew not! But he gave me a prod
to scale the hill with new vigour.

I sweat and pant in my clamber;
of and on looking at that man;
waving my hands with an ardour
that I’m going to reach him soon.


Tedious; yet faith as my boon
I trog and trek to reach the apex.
But to my surprise I saw none
to share my win; accept my thanks.

It’s now just silence and blankness.
I bask there in the sky blues and
caressing soothing winds. It’s bliss;
a winner’s euphoric proud stand.

I started looking up and down.
Found a man at the foot of the hills;
waved him with a smile to come on.
Now I am his prod, God and all.


HOLY TRINE

From where, in the beginning emerged
this Universe and in the end where it is embedded?

All these planets, skies and oceans;
rivers, dales and tall mountains;
colours, scents and flavours...
charms of all shapes and forms;
grace of every phenomenon...
seen, sensed and savored
as part of your daily routine...

Ever imagined thou their origin...
that power pool of eternal blaze;
the source and sorbent in one?

Lo! It is the holy TRINE...MOTHER DIVINE!
Not just the woman; a mortal effigy
oppressed under the hombre hoofs!


Know her as the Sacred Pneuma!
Take my word! O' my fellow men...
whatever be her worldly nomen;
sister, daughter, wife or mistress...
She is always the Holy Mother
in whose heavenly ardour
you are destined to dissolve...in life and after...


PAGES

Leaf by leaf through the pages of life
searching for that something amiss,
longing for the eluding bliss
through the maze of childhood
into the amazing youth...
leaf by leaf through the pages of life.

Those puerile tiffs for toffees
to the juvenile jarring
for pertly sirens
and witless wagers;
from menacing days of mid-age vices
to the distressing years
of old age crisis...
leaf by leaf through the pages of life.


All those moments of feast and repartee
as well, the times of toil and tribulation...
countless are the twists, tales and trauma
slicing through the silence and stalemate;
at times scaling gaiety and euphoria;
often drowning in ennui and misery...
life’s longest drama
lost in smokescreen of past at last
unwinding in waves of reverie;
pouring drop by drop
into the lanes of memory;
drenching my senses
in shudders of ecstasy
...leaf by leaf through the pages of life

Love, hate and disgust bubbling out
through the pores of sanity
that remained unchanged but entrapped
in life-long charade
leading my way to the mystic;
the strange and unknown
unfelt all these years
I dwelled, drudged and drained
...leaf by leaf through the pages of life


I hurtle back in time
fearing the ominous doom
...before HIS reign
as marauder of sin
...making sure what is lost forever,
counting on the remnant boon
whence arises from all that chaff,
the grain of divine
sprouting from the soil of virtue
that grows on nectar of love,
and survives on holy bliss;
heartening me from inside
to traverse upright
all walls of mundane vanity
in faith and fillip
...leaf by leaf through the pages of life

I toddle towards the sacred eternity.
Visible are now my motives
with the dawn of reality;
tangible are my assets
with the onset of clarity
...I