Rajaram Ramachandran

Gold Star - 14,775 Points (13-7-31 (see reverse) / Chennai born, now at Juhu, Mumbai, India)

Power Is Great Or Service? - Poem by Rajaram Ramachandran

In a dense forest, under a shady tree,
Gowtham, a young lad of twenty-three,
Did arduous penance for countless days,
With hopes of gaining Divine powers.

One day, suddenly, he was disturbed,
When a small twig fell o'er his head,
And his upward look with a sharp gaze,
Took him to the height of his rage.

A poor crane, he found, was the culprit,
On the tree, for rest, it came down to sit.
A ball of fire that shot from his eyes,
Charred the white bird into black, alas.

His head weighed now more with pride,
'I'm now a powerful God-man', he cried.
He then wound up his penance and prayers,
And left the forest to seek his alms.

'Three mouthful, please give me food,
That'll bring your family all the good,
A wanderer, I'm from the nearby wood, '
He said, before a house, as he stood.

There was no sight of any one coming out,
And his patience, beyond his control, ran out,
But by then, came the lady of the house,
A compassionate hearted domestic spouse.

She saw the anger dancing on the lad's face,
'Oh Lad, I was in the midst of my service,
To my husband, as my daily chore,
So I couldn't hurry up here before.'

'Do you think, I'm that Crane in the wood,
To become a prey for your angry mood? '
She said, 'Be pleased with my offer of food,
What is given now for your own good.'

To Gowtham, it was a pleasant surprise.
In the lady's mind, how could this arise?
'How you came to know, Oh Mother,
Of what happened in the wood, I wonder? '

'Go to the butcher in the market place,
For this question, my son, the answer lies,
In his hands, that'll clear your doubt.'
She said and slammed the main doors shut.

To the butcher's shop, his curiosity took him,
But to his surprise, the butcher told him,
'My brother, I know, the lady sent you,
But wait here till I reveal the clue.'

'To serve my old parents, it's time for me,
I'll answer your doubt, just wait for me, '
Thus saying the butcher went inside.
Who, an hour passed, but wasn't seen outside.

By now, Gowtham, became wise,
As the events made him to realize,
That serving his old parents at home,
Was better than his choice to roam.

He got, to his query, an answer,
Without waiting more for the butcher,
To serve his parents, he then vowed,
And to the butcher, he mentally bowed.


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Read poems about / on: food, house, tree, husband, anger, family, brother, power, pride, son, mother, fire, home, shopping, running, wind, hope, dance



Poem Submitted: Friday, August 1, 2003



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