Birth Of Death -Ii Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Gods and goblins sauntered O to pray,
Earthlings worshipped along sages and seers
Invoking kind Shiva, easy to please,
Their hands folded and eyes flooded with tears.

He, sacrifice dwelling in matted locks,
Concerned, compassionate to common plight,
Soon volunteered, let me see what be done,
O rising to his full creative height.

Pleased am I, you in my abode to find,
Brahma bowed to Shiva, what may I do;
As Father of cosmos ye aught be kind,
But raging art thou; do stop ere ye rue.

I'm not enraged upon my Creation,
Nor am I out to destroy it, O Lord,
Shame on me not to know the solution,
Shame, not to prevent a punishing rod.

I thought for long, succeeding not yet still,
Frustrated, my eyes always emit fire;
If so, control rage, prevent scorching ill,
Advised Shiva, be pleased, relax Old Sire.

Save these lakes, save rivers, save every life,
Spare creation from universal pain,
Think of a wise way out from world-wide strife,
Think if life can return renewed again.

Let Time unto three-fold time zones divide:
One, what hath come, and never to return,
One that is vast, unknown, born nor yet died,
And present that unfolds, now on the run.

He hearkened wise, all the three heads of his,
Restraining rage, recalled his scorching flares,
Absorbing fire unto eternal bliss;
Birth and death better if bear equal shares.

Let humans tread a path— one of a twain:
The path of karma—of good deeds, to earn
Fruits, place in heaven, earn and spend in chain;
Or of no fruits—the path of no return.
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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 second of the four parts.
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Epics | 02.06.12 |
Topic: death, creation