JANANI NAVARATNA MANJARI [An Independent Translation]

                          

                           1

From that first and unique knowledge
Did originate countless tripudis; soon I

forgot myself and fell in darkness!

Favours dragged me into the Sea of Sorrows

O Mother, show me light

Lead me to that holy sky

which is bright and full of knowledge

Lead me to that holy earth

formed by thy name and sound; 

The centre of all True Knowledge.

             

                       2

Nothing is true but true knowledge

Neither the air and fire nor the rest of all.

Truth is only that knowledge 

the pioneer one ; and that is unique

meaningless all vedic rituals.

Slipping minds will rest a while

when this truth is got revealed.

Oh Mother, let me got revealed it

Let my mind rest in peace.

                          3

Rising in its fading stage

and fading in its rising stage

The first and unique knowledge came;

My mind and organs rolled and rolled

keeping spell and frequency.

I am in that horizon

where knowledge is in full(!)

But this stage of mine is none

compared with that honey sucker 

Resting in a lotus bud

sucking honey while in bliss.

                      4

Truths are flowering in my mind

Only drops of water, waves I know

The snake I found in rope is rope

The pot I found is the clay itself

The root of root of all these truths

No doubt, I know that is 'You'

Let me bow thy feet and sit aside

You are none but my goal itself.

                            5

Veiled in by that Super Knowledge

The physical world is beyond sight

Parts and parcel of all forms

The air and fire and the rest of all

visible not in naked eyes;

But they are clear in inner ones.

Through my inner eyes I see

You are in a dancing mood;

Dressed up in that Holy Robes

stitched and woven by the Time.

Thin and smooth your garments are

Yet they hide your body from my sight!

Knowledge being thy holy home

All are in their verbal forms.

                             6

Oh Mother,
You are the fish and you are the deer 
the flies and birds; the snakes and mountains;
the plants and trees ; the rivers  and lakes;
You are also the imaginary Hell and Heaven
And all men and women including I myself
who is but a witness of all these multi-visions
In physical and in verbal forms.
All these wonders that I see
are nothing but the scenes of the Drama
that is being staged, at your own will and pleasure.

                           7

To shoot out all the sins from me

I hold knowledge as an arrow.

My bow is nothing but true faith in thy feet

My iron will is the thread in bow.

Without faith in myself, I can't win

Myself I am creeping into my soul...

Now I am on the path of goal

You are shedding lights I know.

My body weight is nothing but

The weight I gathered from my sins.

                             8

As my thoughts and as my thinking mind

You are growing as a pearl of joy;

As all causes and as all effects

as subjects; and then as objects

First you create, and then you consume!

Your greatness is in such a height

higher than that eternal bliss!

Oh Mother, You are great! really great!

                              9

Shadow like, all worldly objects

reflecting in the mirror of knowledge

are fading as soon as they reflect

as they themselves,  but your own shadows!

You are in that heavenly Abode

Far, far away from my senses

In which knowledge is in full.

Oh Mother, who can praise thee?

Let me rest in silence!

JANANI NAVARATNA MANJARI

                Janani Navaratna Manjari is a unique philosophical poem in Malayalam written by Sree Narayana Guru who contributed much towards the upliftment of the down trodden communities in India in 1908. It is one of the most famous poems belonging to the category of sthotras written by him.

               It is a tradition of Indians to sing sthotras or praising songs of their beloved deities intending to please them. In such songs, simple and melodious lines were being used.Meaning of the words used were not important.

             Guru recognized true knowledge as the basement of personality formation. He also recognized the need for an unconscious and spontaneous expansion of knowledge from childhood itself so as to create a man of knowledge. The only way to create such a situation is to modify the traditional literature and practice.

            Sree  Narayana Guru concentrated much in the modification of the traditional style of literature, especially poetry. He performed himself as a guide to the coming generations.Janani Navaratna Manjari is a typical example.The philosophical clarity, the style of expressing ideas and the combination of meaningful and sweet melodious words places this sthotra to the heights of classic poems.

             Janani Navaratna Manjari is a poem consisting of nine slokas. In each sloka, the length, the breadth and the depth of spiritual knowledge is personified symbolically as the Goddess of Knowledge. Each sloka in this poem is a diamond, merged into the ocean of Knowledge. 

           A translation of Guru's poem is not an easy task. I am fully aware of my limitations as a common man in interpreting the meanings also. My intention is only to attract the new generations to the literary works of the great Guru. With a humble request to go through the work, I am submitting this before the literary minds.

                                                                                                            Malayalapuzha Sudhan

MY THOUGHTS : MY VIEWS

THE RATE OF INTEREST PRESCRIBED IN MANUSMRUTHI

    Money lending is considered as a sin in Manusmruthi. At the same time the practice of money lending is justified also.

   

     According to Manu, there is no sin in charging an interest at the rate of 1.25%. It is also suggested as moral to charge interest at the rate of 2% from the Brahmins, at the rate of 3% from the Kshatriyas, at the rate of 4% from the Vaisyas and at the rate of 5% from the sudras.

       Provisions were there, to lend money against the security of land, cows or yielding properties. When clothes or ornaments were received as securities, the lenders were not allowed to use such things deposited as securities by the borrowers. In case , they were used by the lender, there was no provision to charge interest on the loan amount.

       The ownership on the securities of the borrowers were to be lost automatically in cases, they failed to regain the same within a period of ten years.

     

        Provisions were there to remit the interest in regular instalments. Monthly, Quarterly, Half yearly, and Yearly remittances were allowed.Defaulters were permitted to renew the loan by paying only interest. Some restrictions were also there in charging interest. In no circumstances interests were allowed to exceed more than twice the loan amount on final settlement. But in some exceptional cases, five times of the loan amount were also permitted.

       There were also restrictions against the cheap practices of exploiting the borrowers by charging interest on interest and other charges. In case, when the borrowers failed to repay the loan amount with interest in time, they were allowed to enter into new agreement or in the sale of the property on final settlement.

         In case, when loans were given against personal sureties, the sureties were responsible to settle the loans if the borrowers failed to settle the same in time.

         In cases, when the borrowers failed to clear the loan for want if financial sources, they were allowed to settle the same by compensating the amount by working under the lenders.

        

AN EVALUATION OF THE CREDIT SYSTEM PRESCRIBED IN MANUSMRUTHI

       No civilised man can justify the negligence that Manu imparted on Sudras. The progressive rate of interest recommended by him on caste base is also beyond justification.

      In this context, it is to be remembered that, Manusmruthi is a history of Ancient India also. Subjects like politics, civics, economics, banking etc. etc. are detailed as they were prevalent in the time. For a detailed evaluation of the smruthi, an analysis of the contemporary history of other world nations is also necessary.

     In those days, slavery system existed in different parts of the world. In India the system was in the form of Chathurvarnya. The sudras were treated as slaves by their masters. but their cruelties were in a lesser degree than that of the cruelties imparted on slaves by the slave owners in other parts of the world

     In chathurvarnya, the Brahmins who represented the high status groups were those who engaged in study, teaching,research works and so on. They were the intellectual groups of the society. They were also the advisers of the kings and administrators of the day. They always engaged in intellectual works. So they were provided with high remunerations and maximum reliefs.

      The Kshatriyas  represented those who engaged in the administrative functions, military and para military activities, maintenance of law and order and so on. They were the protecting groups. So they were also provided with high remunerations and so many reliefs.

       The vaisyas represented those people who engaged in agriculture, industry, trade and commerce etc. They were the producing groups and hence they were also treated with respect, but their position was below the Brahmins and the Kshatriyas.

      The social status of the Sudras was the lowest. They were treated like the slaves. They were provided with only the minimum requirements of life. Moreover, they were not allowed to acquire and accumulate wealth. Such a group normally require no credit facilities. Even though in exceptional cases, if required they were allowed to borrow. By charging the highest interest rate, the Sudras were discouraged from borrowing and indulging into unpleasant situations.

     It is also to be remembered that, the Smruthi reveals historical facts also. Exploitation of the working class was a common phenomena existed in the then world. It was not an isolated social evil that existed in India alone.

   Manu suggested and recommended a credit system suited to the then India. He was only an advocate and economist of the prevailing social set up- not a revolutionist.

    Despite having certain demerits, the credit system developed by Manu reveals the financial management capacity of the Ancient Indians.

WHY THESE SCREENS, THESE WALLS?

Ladly, build up no more walls here, dear

by digging up my grave.

Leave not the heritage we sustain

for generations in this land,

This soil of ours...

Ladly, never build up walls

Your born-mate and his kids are not

alien to your kids.

Then why there should be walls?

why this privy?

Do not, I can't bear the wait of these

concrete walls...

All grandeur, legacy and paternal grace,

will die in the screen of these walls

I can't stand, do not dear build up walls.

Why these screens, these walls?

DANCE MUSE, DANCE.

Oh beauty that pampered

the parrot of our 'Language dad'

Dance Muse, you dance...

Let me hum tunes;

to rhythm of yours; and  

Let my soul's light be brightened.

In the dark wilderness of

knowledge am I.

And my passage the harsh-mouth tunnel

of the Dare Devil self esteem.

There are toxic thorns over my path

hidden in deliberately dug up dungeons.

Eyes darken, body tires,and

the light of inner eye dims...

Dance, Fair one, dance

Let me tune to rhythm of yours

Let those blessing tunes

as the cosmos of Verse,

Spread the Soul's light, Word-Goddess.

Let my inner eye be brightened up

and all darkness be removed,

Let my path be illumined anew...

Won't the fake-clouds created by dragons

be removed by the 'aura-of- verse'?

Dance, Lady Muse, excited still.

Wise men would never but know that

Verse these should be for

the might of the Native Tongue...

Dance, Fair Muse, Dance

Let me recite eloquent verse.

THE LITTLE FLY

South south in the farther south

In a little hill

A mango tree mellow bloomed

And fragrance spread in the wind

The little fly hummed around

spreading its tiny wings;

Rested on a cluster of flowers

To sip up the sweet honey.

The spicy-ant sped up anon

his acidic gas exposed

Poor little flea hummed away

tasting not even a drop...

Reaching its home, detailed the tail

Its little brother heeded all

said by the tiny fly.

Humming away he anon,

Back with the jaggery-ant

Set out the morrow to the sweet mango tree.

The little fly winged off ahead

spreading its tiny wings.

By dusk they reached the southern hill

the sun hid in the western horizon...

The little fly with its brother

Hid under green mango leaves;

the spicy-ants all together

slept sound inside their nest...

Past midnight then,

The jaggery-ant like a spy

Entered alone to the spicy-ant's nest...

craftily he sent all the knaves to the land of death.

Dawn broke bright, and

the gentle breeze softly did blow;

The little fly with its brother

met with the jaggery-ant

Three of them sipped off honey

from inside the mango flower.

Thereafter cooling in heart

the three on the hill enjoyed fully

sipping honey drops in joy...

All other trees on the hill blossomed too

The nymph of spring with brightened face,

the charm of the woodland did grow;

Having drunk enough honey

the little fly suppled now

It flew round the whole wood humming in glee...

The little fly befriended with

a butterfly-kid that f lying

joyously kissing flowers.

The butterfly host all coloured

became a friend to the little fly

Later some days after, they

the fly and the jaggery-ant

hosted the butterfly kid;

Set out to meet their kins, and

returned home with some relatives.

Building fine nests in the branches

of that sweet mango tree on the hill

Leaving all competing notions

they lived as friends aiming well-being....

Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer

all the six seasons were over

The sweet mango tree did its budding

and bloomed with its blossoms and fruits.

In an unforeseen night when the wind blew

Frantic rain poured and the trees got tumbled!

Hurting its colourful wings

The butterfly fell down alas.

Rain water rushed wild into

The nest of the jaggery-ant...

The nest of honey swayed in gales

the pot of honey fell too down!

Gushed away too far along

it faded away to some where and gone!

When wind an drain all did cease

The full moon shone brightly in sky

Trembling and chilled in that cell

The butterfly breathed its Last!

Upon a grass-shoot did lean

The jaggery-ant was seen clung!

Shaking off water drops from

Its tiny wing, that little fly

Flew silent on to the corpse,

of his bosom friend, the fly...

Slowly, the jaggery -ant

Crept where the body did lie

Embraced both friends in grief and bereaved

The moon hid behind the leaves of the cloud.

THE STAR HOTEL

In front of a stalwart star hotel

in a Keralite medium city

A garden of cactus, Aho!

A wild garden neatly pruned

with all four walls around.

Entered I eager to see and learn

the inside beauty, the business too.

Halls that feel no cold nor heat

walls hanging pictures of nudes

Waiters with coat and cap inside

The food-mall that's mattressed fine

Inside glass cases creeps

snakes of varied forms;

Sights dreadful, before.

Reptiles boil, spilling in the air

smells alluring the senses...

Bodies of dogs get roasted and boiled

anointed in colours and odours sweet.

Bearers serve in modest air

around tables prepared for 

those from alien lands.

Servants get pleased filling

pockets with bill-balances.

Wondered by sights my conscience did speak

"Culture western, in corners Eastern"

THE HILLSIDE PEASANT

How long long has been this task of digging

the surface sod of this hillside

keeping on ceaselessly.

The shaky grains of rubic-stones

holding on hedge wall's brims;

Though, there it's place, slips away soon

Flown off away in rainy streams.

The mud furrow tendered by tilling hard

is no more seen and the crop also flows;

The hut wall too gets soaked and gone,

The saplings that chopped to make stakes,

Rubic -stones shows off.

The spade that was tampered at

 the blacksmith's lathe

Falls hard now and again...

The 'waste-task' my grandpa and father had done,

I too, the son continue.

HONEY MANGO TREE

Embraced by drip-dropping

Rays of the sun

Swaying in gentle coy breeze

Oping slowly her tender green shoots

gladdened in my scanty yard

The young shrub of Honey-mango tree.

Drinking the sunshine and thrilling within,

A thousand citadels were built in my nights,

Mansions amore, sculptures, colours

Jewels and heaps of treasures,

farmlands, groves and livestock,

Trade-guilds and festive realms...

Thus passed the paths of my fancy.

Tendered by summer, Spring,Autumn,Winter,

The shrub attained youthfulness all.

The budding twigs bending so low

Blossomed with fruits and spread out

a fragrance around...

The unforeseen clouds that came during the night

Gone hard as torrents and storms,

Blowing in swirls, my young tree collapsed

And with that fell flat;

my dream and my paths of fancy.

THE DREAM

Last day in dream,

Holding grandma's arms, like a  lad,

I reached a home 'Quadra-built' of gold

Opting the frontispiece I entered inside

Met a man with a smiling face

seated upon the fore-floor.

"Grandpa of father's grandpa"

Quoth thus grandma.

With single-bordered loin tucked round the waist

And sandal paste spot on forehead,

I saw an aura of kindliness.

A brightened smile on his much supple lips

A stalwart of six feet in oil-dark skin

Beckoned and held me he upon his bosom

kissed on my forehead and said:

"Grandpa was waiting for long

to see you my kid darling".

Came there, yet grandma another

with a face that was beaming with

the milk of a smile;

Cravingly taking me up

She showered kisses a lot

and quoth with her tear-laden eyes...

"Take care my son,

You offspring of the sixth legal heir

To vouchsafe the honour of home

And the name grandpa had made...

Born on an auspicious star,

You be the 'Son of the Land'.

Shuddering I woke up and

rushed to the ring of the phone.

A cheerful sweet word

from the homeland  was heard!

"The girl gave birth to a boy"...

How could my grandma in dream

reach this desert far away?

Whose may be that quardra-built home

I saw in that dream on the wall of my mind?

Still resound all that I heard in that dream

May what my grandma said become true

May it be the will of the Lord.

THE THUMP-LOSER RESPONDS...

The deer-folk dashes and rabbits frolic

And frightened birds flutter away;

Rows of giant trees tumble uproot

Crashing the under growth foliage down.

Dust- screens cloud the skies,

And the mid-day sun gets dim,

Rolling of chariot wheels heard,

And a murmur emanates from

the rocking wood...

Listened I keen with  surveillant eyes.

I saw the Master of Hasthinapura

The Lord of my mind

with disciples and retinue behind;

Like the Lord of Destruction,

He stands before me.

Drona rushes up like a storm

with a thirst bound to gulp the cosmos

in his flashing eyes like spheres.

"Who is your master?

Who taught you to dart

arrows to the sound-target

without flaw?....

The art of dart, if got in

undeserved hands, is Fire,

Ending the world..

Eh, nomad boy,

How did you attain

the art of dart that was

Tabooed to you by the 'Sruthis'?

And who your master is..."

The fire of query bent in

Hatred and wrath

flared in the master's tongue.

"Let me be blessed...

I too am your pupil...

Bless me by placing your hand on my head..."

Cried I, Te forest boy, fearlessly

falling upon the master's feet in awe.

An earth-trampling foot-stomp was heard

And the master did draw back his feet;

Raising my eyes I saw in Arjuna's eyes,

The blooming of sarcastic pride.

"Thou art Anarya",

And there is no rule to preach

The art of dart to Nishadas,

as per sruthis' say..."

"The merciless darts you have sent in words,

When once I came begging the art from you

stuck still in the butt of my heart...

My inners jerked, hearing those

feigned words came from your graceful tongue..

I modelled  your idol in clay

And seated it afront my practice-pit.

Fancying it as the  'master of mind'

I worshipped with garlands and fumes.

Knelt in humble prayer all day

And sobbed out my heart in faith.

Thinking of those cruel castestic norms

that denies justice to Nishadas

Tear-drops streamed off my eyes..."

In the golden morn of the fortieth day

A radiance sprouted from the idol's forehead

A touch of warmth I felt on my brow

And I was Quake-Struck.

I took the bow, arrows gamboled in my finger-tips!

The denials and proscriptions all

Are nothing but dwarfish-pride

in the giant body of man...

Lucid truths cleared up in my heart!

You but none are my master,

Put your holy hands on me to bless."

"If a disciple  you are,

offer me your oblation!"

The master quoth and my inners chilled...

"I am content, my master,

What have  to offer?"...

I waited in awe with cupped up hands.

"THUMB OF YOUR RIGHT HAND...YOU GIVE..."
Anon the master ordained!

Rapture of pride, I saw

Blooming in Arjuna's eyes...

Rumbles of thunder in inner heart...

Devilish dance of gloom afront...

Pressure of blood-flow that rent the veins

A lightning ray on the layer of the brain...

Why, for the master, the oblation of my Thumb?

Conscience asked, but no reply came.

"Will the Lore deeproot sans oblations boy?"

The question echoed in Dharma sastras

"Will the dart yield, if thumb is chopped off?"

(The master in clay seemed to ask)

"No justice more sublime than sacrifice"...

The verse in Sruthi, rumbled in the ears...

 fishing-rod preyed with the earth worm of Dharma

is being hurled against me,by an unknown 'Someone'.

My self, the whale gulps it in a shoot

On the tender leaf-piece throbbed and then stilled

my valid thumb drip-droping blood

I saw glee in the Master's eyes !

"Dharma will save always"say the sastras...

But now I say "It will betray"...

BLESS MUSE BLESS

Bless, Muse of Verse Bless

Come down and stay in

the valley of my mind

My heart throbs and craves

to see the truths that are

hidden in the slime of ignorance,

In the whirlpools of the Wisdom-Sea.

Bless, Muse, Bless

Come down and stay in the 

valley of my mind...

The eyes that are cataracted

by Ignorance have no light

All darkness around...

Discord is now the potion to the hearing sense

Stink is the favourite of the sense of smell

No touch is sensed by the frozen skin

Being a mere body myself is 

A lifeless figure and nought...

Bless, Muse ,bless

Come down and stay in the valley of my mind.

Blow as  a stream of breeze mild,

Upon the ash- blanket covering the

Fire of Knowledge.

Let flames of wisdom en kindled of that

Let the flames of spotless love ablaze.

Let the Divine Light spread all over

And the horizon of Verse ablaze.

Bless, Muse, bless  

Come down and stay in the valley of my mind.

Heart throbs and craves to see the truths

With in the golden hutch shrouded in Truth.

THE ELEPHANT SEEN BY THE BLIND

Chinnan, Kunjan, Little Karumban

Velumban, Neelan and Lolan are blind.

Eagerly craving to eye the Elephant

They went to witness the Fest.

Chinnan caught hold of the elephant's tail

Thannana thannana thannana he sang

Then to his mates he told:

"The Elephant is not upto what is heard

Just a thing like the 'broom he is;

I saw the Elephant, friends...."

"Seeing the flat-mat-tray

suited to sieve  four-five bushels,

mistook to 'broom', you fool?"

                                Kunjan asked.

He tried to grope, on the elephant's ear

to see 'the thing' as a whole.

Propping the tusker's waist

Little Karumban certs

"The thing is a 'wall' indeed!"

"Seeing a thing like pillar you fool,call it a wall?

You are the dastard the whole world has ever seen;

While learning at school 'touch-know'

You could not  at all fix your head..."

Quoth Velumban feeling the animal's legs.

"What all we heard of elephant is wrong

What all our friends saw too wrong..

Friends, it's a well-shaped sword

I saw the elephant, 'a sword' that is shaped well.

Learned men never prescribe

any inapt name, though..."

Said Neelan coddling the tusk.

"Friends, you never did see the elephant

He is the serpent that swallow men"

Tapping on the trunk, Lolan 'found' the animal.

And then drew back anon.

Arguing and arguing the blind men all

Certed that "what I saw is the thing, not you"

Seeing the brawl among them

People laughed out their bowels.

The Elephant gets fret...

Howling, with uplifted trunk...

The gentle folk ran amuck,

The blind men among them too.

ASWATHAMA IS DEAD(?)

Aswathama is dead!

The lament was heard,

The voice sprouted from Yudhishtira's throat.

The tip of the thump that was

holding the arrow slackened;

Drona's mind muddled.

The great teacher put his weapon down;

The picture of dancing torsos ahead,

The sight of frolicking hounds

Hauling, quaffing off blood!

The headless body of beloved son

Torn and hauled by fearless vultures;

The lamp-like eyes in the severed off head

Get soaked in blood alas!

Seer Drona tightened his eyes,but

scenes brightened there clear again.

"Was it better to sever my head

than cutting away my thump?

Asked I then -but you didn't heed

The dark deed turned to be

the symbol of Tutor-Oblation.

Though justice may find out morals

Will the symbol of story remove the flaws?

Will not the lambs that are blown out

be kindled again with fire?

Why can't you absorb the truth, my lord

will time shade out unclouded truths?"

There stands in front Ekalavya!

He is darting the arrows of queries.

Blood is dripping still, and

The wound isn't healed yet!

Drona strained hard to shut his eyes

to fall into the mystic sleep.

Seated in Padmasana the great seer saw 

heart rending scenes again.

"Inevitable to the charioteer an Equestrian remedy

It's learning and lessons are inside the the stable!

No horse is born from the ass-womb

Horseman's son, apprehend Dharma"

Karna shoots out ridicule in words

Drona closes his ears with hands

Clouds abounded and the sky got still dusky...

A torrent of dust wind blew...

Armed with sword Drishtadyumna

jumped into the Chariot;

His hand descend on the Guru's hair

A moment's half-The broad blade rose and fell

Rolling and rolling in the dust

Got stuck in the glue of blood!

a poetic symbol got stuck.

THE WRITER'S MIND

In minuteness minute than the atom

In eternity equal to the mountains

An ocean of patience, with seven seas

Who knows the writer's mind?

Darkness is all round.

His wisdom brightened with potency

illuminate the whole world.

Who knows the writer's mind?

Darkness is all round

Darkness of ignorance all round.

MY END

I am not for being beaten

And for losing wisdom in disputes.

My journey is along the paths of mercy

And my end is the alter of wisdom.

My mind is not that which is 

mad after wealth and fortunes.

My conscience won't rest on indulgences

My eyes are on the 'Light of Wisdom'.

SALUTE TO THE POWER OF GLORY

There is a Fire

The maker hath hidden within

the beings that carries my body. 

That fire has the force

to turn the cosmos into ash.

And there is water also 
in sub terrains near

Water that will quell
and tame the fire.

Salute to thee

The power behind creation

The Mighty prowess, salute.

LET US SHARE PAINS

Aching souls,

Sons of pain,

Let us share our pain

I will always with you.

Let us share our pain

instead of weeping by quaffing

the bitter drink destiny gave,

Let us weave a hope for the morrow

And long for a good day to come

That longing will lead us ahead

Lead us along flawless paths.

Is not the emptiness, void of gains,

we named losses?

Is it not when seeing a state without gains

seen as loss we worry?

Let us forget measurement

And gains and losses all

Losses illusion

Profits and gains illusions

Fortunes, chances

Worth of experiences

They are real givers of Felicities.

Aching souls, 

Sons of pains,

Let us share our pains

And wait for the fortune of chances to come;

Long for a good morrow

That longing may sooth our pangs.

Dear lads, let us share our pangs.

BEEF LAMENT

Where is my beloved?

Where is my beloved?

The bosom mate that toiled with me

with the yoke on his neck till yesterday.

The Bull sobbed thinking of his beloved

minding not the tumbler-full water

And hay stack before him.

Fixing eyes somewhere afar.

"Someone came in the morn;

Undid the knot and awakened him with a tap;

Giving a tumbler full to drink,

The man walked away with him...

There after he didn't turn up till.

What may the reason be?"

He mumbled sad at the crow

that was pecking up fleas on his back

"Never friend, he won't come again to pull

the yoke with you.

No use to expect,

he has been digested inside the stomach

of men; No need to hope

His bones got processed in the mill

will reach here to be spread in the

tilling furrow as manure.

The hide now started to be smoked

will be transformed as shoes.

The horn will reach in markets

as curio images and toys.

Nothing in your body a waste for man!"

Saying this the crow winged away some where

And the Beef sobbed with streaming eyes.

"The throat was roped at birth itself

The nose was bored when learned to walk

The shackle was made hard with the rope

Testicles got squeezed and thus sterilized

Iron hooves thrusted by binding the legs

Marked on the thighs with hot- iron and

The whip made many a wound on the loin in youth;

When youthfulness oozed away by toil,

Throat is chopped, with the limbs all bound up

And every body part was sold..."

Minding not the tumbler full of water

and the hay stack before him

Fixing his eyes somewhere afar

The Beef sobbed thinking of his beloved;

Sobbed thinking of human cruelty.

THE HATCHING

The sins you achieve incessantly are

self-done and contingent.

There is no fate of our part on it

Spouse and children mere shadows.

The hunter's inner eye quivered

hearing the voice echoing in

the auditory sense

It rent his heart away.

Fate is there to feed part of the sin

And for the husband to make theft a job

But no fate to share the stain of sin

Spouse and children are but shadows 

The puzzle emerging from the mind's depth 

grew and kept on brooding

Some soul awoke-verses bloomed

The great epic was born-'Ramayana'.