Let me narrate how Death was born on Earth,
Said sage Vyasa to Yudhishthir, shattered
By Abhimanyu's death, ‘vain, vain my worth,
O if a young dream dies, lies so scattered'.
A story it is from a Golden Age,
A king called Akampan had lost his all
And his dear son in battles that had raged,
A brave young man lost in a duty's call.
Robbed of all hope, in grief he roamed alone,
In search of peace— with a mind sunk in war,
And he finds sage Narad there standing prone—
To him nigh like locating a Poll Star!
My son was brave enough to take on gods,
Enemies came and conspired, him to kill,
Do tell me what death is, what dying means,
Life I know, but what's Death's destiny still?
To his query the sage told this story—
Of Birth of Death, of old age and disease:
When Brahma had created all this here,
Death found no place still in the scheme of His.
And life lived and lived for endless long years,
No one died, and still new life came to be,
Poor earth bare if a burden more could bear,
Ant-like life swarmed, as if a shore-less sea.
An ocean of life in a waxing tide
O taxing the Mother Earth's means sans pause,
Causing chaotic turmoil, unknown ill,
Grass-eaters ate flesh to fill hungry maws.
When hard it was to breathe, the Creator
Felt concerned— how to turn this giant tide,
How to lighten the burden borne by Earth,
Ere it collapsed under own weight and died.
Brahma thought for long hours, for days on end,
‘Poor of me, how I never thought of this? '
A way out still was far from the Lord's hand,
His visage showed worry where once was bliss.
In rage, his eyes seemed like luminous arc,
Flames of fire flared all the worlds to consume,
And pierced heavens heating up all Earth,
A making O of cosmic night's dour doom!
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This poem is a poetic rendition of an episode in Mahabharata. When at the time of Creation life was conceived, the creator Brahma forgot to incorporate death. And life multiplied threatening its very existence. And he had to remedy the situation by creating death along with life. This is the first of the four parts.
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Epics | 01.06.12 |
Topic: death, creation
A very imaginative entertaining story on ho death was born, reads as a fantastic fable to show the necessity of death. I believe death is transition to an eternal life so is necessary. Kudos for ho you craft your story.
I must appreciate your pin-pointed notes from the poem for comments. I hope you'll find the further three parts also equally interesting, the second one of it now ready. Thank you so much dear poet.
contd for u sir But we will not alive be many will just die So think not of death a dear friend went into spasm and died in haste what a life gone waste chasing what has t happen and it will death will come why think of it O poet ji
The day poets stop thinking, imagining, and feeling, the poetry will be lost.
I READ NOT OF DEATH IT IS AN INEVITABILITY UNLESS YOU EAT MEAT ANIMALS WILL EAT THEE LIFE MUST AS WILL BALANCE O POET Death is just a Part of the beginning without it there can be no end aren't we awaiting floods in 2050
You are right there is no new creation without destruction, The old must give way to the new. well said.
Intense, powerful and exceptional creation, beautifully penned.
Thanks for your elevating feedback. May I invite you to read the rest of the parts and tell me if it sustains the tempo.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Robbed of all hope! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Thank you for reading this narrative telling how death came to be.