A03 The Cavern Of Massabielle Poem by Rajaram Ramachandran

Maisongrosse, the baker,
Who was an early riser,
Kept his bakery open,
Baking bread in the oven.

The smell of fresh bread,
Around the shop spread,
When Soubirous stepped in,
To ask for any errand to run.

He worked as a porter,
Whenever the baker
Called for him to carry
Bread for door delivery.

“The demand now is
More for the pastries,
Not for the bakery items
So, down went my business.”

“Today, I’m kicking out,
One useless paid servant
To make up for my loss, ”
Thus the baker made an excuse.

“Why not I ask the baker
A loaf of bread as a favor, ”
Soubirous thought then,
But his mouth didn’t open.

He was once a miller
Not a trained beggar,
So, his prestige forbade
Now begging for bread.

He went to the postmaster,
Who used him as a courier,
And asked, “Sir, now I’m free
Is there any job for me? ”

The master, an ex-sergeant
Of a military regiment,
Had sympathy for him,
But had no job that time.

As a soldier, for two weeks,
The army engaged Soubirous.
So, the ex-sergeant helped him,
As an ex-soldier every time.

“The Mother Superior of hospital
Needs a man for the disposal
Of refuse to be burnt far away,
For one silver coin, this day.”

For him this was a big sum
Though the job, loathsome
One for a decent ex-miller
To work as a scavenger.

He went to the hospital.
Wastes, three box-full
He loaded into a cart
And made a slow start.

Thro’ all rough roads,
The cart, with its loads,
Jolting and jerking went
To the destination at last.

At Massabielle, in a cavern,
He unloaded, one by one,
The heaps of bandage clothes
Soaked in blood and pus.

As the bad smell
Was so unbearable,
He lighted his pipe
To suppress it up.

At the site, a swineherd,
Who then came forward,
Helped to burn the lot,
Till it was fully burnt.

Happily the day passed on,
With that one silver coin,
The wage for what he did.
Calmly he retired to bed.