Him I Don'T Worship? ! Poem by AtreyaSarma Uppaluri

I am a man of reason and science;
I don’t believe in gods blind and deaf,
or care for the stony idols.
If god is so great
why does he hide?
why doesn’t he come out
and redress all our woes
and in pretty time too?

I hate visiting temples
and observing all that mumbo jumbo.
You’ve to leave your sandals out
and stand up barefoot in long queues
wasting your time
which is more precious than money.
Oh so much of rigmarole!
And a pain in the neck!

You’ve to wear that forehead mark…
Why these outward signs
with no purity inside the heart?

And we’ve to dropp a buck or so
on the platter of the parasitic priest
and into the greedy hundi much more.
So “No, no, no” to gods and shrines.

My real god is elsewhere whom I’d worship.
He lends a patient ear to your cares and worries
and at once promises you relief and sops several.

Seeking an appointment
I make it to his place
leaving my footwear outside.
Silently I wait for my turn
well beyond my slated time
for there’s a long queue of visitors.
A sacrosanct silence reigns despite the hordes
with some of them singing paeans
in random groups
of the virtues of the presiding leader;
while the rest, including me,
nod in smiling admiration.

At last I am let in to meet him.
He is up on his legs
before I reach across.
“Going out for the anniversary
of our late lamented leader.
You may come along
if you’ve time, ”
A rare offer he makes, affably.

“Sure, sir, it’s a privilege and pleasure.”
I follow in the tow
and like others
my forehead is painted too
with the party’s symbol
and a cap with their totem
thrown over my head.

The caravan reaches the giant granite statue.
It’s now sanctified with gallons of coconut water
and with bushels and canisters of foamy milk.
I’m permitted too
to climb up the permanently fixed ladder
to garland the statue
and bow and prostrate before it
with my sandals left already behind the barricade.

“We have ambitious plans
to commemorate our late leader
who shed tears and blood for the poor.
We’d erect his statue
at every crossroad
and in every borough.
It would wipe off the tears of the penniless
and eradicate poverty.
The dream comes true only with cooperation of all.
None of you would mind it, I am sure,
to be very generous in this pious task.”
A thunderous applause
and a shower of contributions
follow with a lightning speed.

I feel my purse and its heaviness
and offer in humility
whatever I have in there
barring my credit card.

The live leader beckons me
and shakes hands,
with a loud “Thank you, ”
and a disarming smile.

Turning me aside,
with his hand on my shoulders
he confidentially whispered:
“I’m off to Delhi
by the next flight.
An urgent call from PMO.
Give a tinkle to my secretary
after a week.
We’ll talk about your problem,
don’t’ worry.”

[Jul 10,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]