Living Idol
Her face is black and shiny
Like a just burnished ebony
When Sun rays swept
Into beads of her cold sweat
Hundred more Suns did reflect
At once, glowing bright
Her toil since childhood
Bestowed her the best shape
To make jealous any Miss World
Her rhythmic movements
While at work or when
She does simply walk
Can sure invoke poetic zest
To follow her elegant gait
To run eloquent into metrical beats
Those countless tears and holes in her sari
Struggling to cover her raw, rustic beauty
Are like windows to her explicit misery
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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God
One says there is ‘NO’ God
One shows the skies
And says ‘YES’
And jokes one clever modern
“I WISH He is there”
As one who’s neither a Leftist
Nor a Rightist
Nor even a go-in-between
I visualize
In every YES, NO, WISH and CONFUSION
His visage with glowing beams
(GOD AND EXPLANATION
This poem ‘God’ is based on age-old Hindu philosophy, enshrined in ‘Upanishads’ and ‘Bhagavat Geeta’
When one says ’Yes’ about God, it means that he knows that there is that ‘OTHER’. This ‘Other’ is often referred to as ‘PARA’ in Sanskrit, i.e., there is ONE who is not himself. When one says ‘No’ about God
It means the God is no where else but in him, the cardinal principle of ‘ADVAITHA’. Whether the Atheist realised or not, his ‘No’ means that the ‘Soul’ and the ‘Divine Soul’ (Atman and Paramathma) are one and the same. So what an atheist is saying unknowingly to him is true. Yes, there is no other (Para) than himself. This is the ultimate stage of Realization, which is at a rudimentary stage in an atheist. Again in a WISH, the subject is becoming a seeker, even mockingly. He realizes that there is a need to have a GOD. He also means that without GOD, it is not possible to correct and administer this world. That also means that God alone can administer this Universe. Regarding ‘CONFUSION: Confusion is the manifestation of MAYA. Maya itself is the manifestation of God. So even in confusion, there is God.)
And mocking grins
poem by Sathya Narayana
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Long Journey Ahead (Revised)
Blinking at the bright light, I thought
'I'm all set for a long journey
through numerous unfamiliar routs;
a promised joy-pain potpourri! '
'From where I started; go I where?
I might have done this trip before,
but lost my past at my last halt.
A thawed horizon's melted door
I left and passed through many a vault
and flushed out by a tidal bore
to reach this place oh by default.'
'I signed a pact or gestured yes
to some tacit contract to bind
myself to oblivion, I guess;
ere woke up finding me entwined
a coiled lump like in this foul mess.'
Ending my muse, I gazed forward
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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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
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
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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That Rainy Day
THAT RAINY DAY
They prayed in unison
For the eluding rain
Long waited in despair
Staring at the horizon
Months passed without a sign
Testing their patience
Hot Sun heckled with a sneer
Night sky speckled
With moon and stars
Leered in ridicule
An old farmer averred
“We’re all cursed by the Goddess
To whom we shunned oblation
That was offered every annum”
Asserted one literate peasant
“It’s all green house effect”
Soon cried an yeoman in glee
“There in the skies! See! ”
Spotting a black nimbus
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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DYSPNOEA (short story)
"He's choking" I cried
looking at that sixty plus old man in a dhothi and a tattered wet shirt.
"Dyspnoea! " commented my friend Rajan
staring at him.
"What's dyspnoea? " I yelled.
The rain-lashed black-top road
was looking like a crawling snake..
That desolate bus-shelter beside
that village road was damp and leaking.
The old man settled on the cement bench
was panting, coughing and staring into the skies as if he's waiting to see the angels from heaven or agents of the Hades.
His wife was pressing his back and telling..."Wait...the rain will abate soon...it won't take much time."
I cried at her, "Give him his inhaler! "
"What's inhaler? " she asked.
"I mean inhaler; O' God! " I cried.
"How do they know about inhaler? " Rajan said coolly.
Ignoring my friend, I cried again,
"Don't you have any medicine ready...
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poem by Sathya Narayana
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