Treasure Island

Hardik Vaidya

(26 Dec 1969, I won't be dead till you know I am alive. / Mahuva, Gujarat, India.)

Saraswati The Goddess Of Knowledge

I now realize.
It hit me like a laden truck,
In full day light.
Whether bad, mad, brilliant or imbecile,
Poets are Lord Shiva,
All born with a third eye.
For the young shanks,
Who don't read my rotten rant,
We are born with an extra pole,
An ugly transmitter sticking out,
To catch the very known,
Yet unknown.
We are postmen,
We don't create,
We live in an illusion that we generate.
She comes to us Saraswati,
To the pious as a godess,
To feinds like me as a damsel,
She sermons to the holy,
She whispers to those like me unholy,
And we write,
We transmit,
We do not publish,
We only have copy rights,
Because we just copy.
I know understand,
Why Vamiki the sage,
Could write.

Submitted: Saturday, March 09, 2013
Edited: Saturday, March 09, 2013
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Poet's Notes about The Poem


Sarawati - is the symbol of pure unadultrated Knowledge in Hinduism. And it is not a surprise that we recognize it as a feminine form.

Shiva is the lord of destruction. A mad chap, lives a secluded life, but is the darling of all the wife's and wife's to be.

Valmiki was a dacoit who realized and turned a page, perhaps a leaf, and wrote the Ramayana the great Indian Story, and people say the lord spoke to him and he wrote.

I have not mentioned him, but Maqbool Fida Hussain was a true Indian soul, we banished him from India for drawing paintings of our roots our women as they whispered to him, how banal and uprooted can India be from her own flesh?

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