Aniruddha Pathak

Rookie - 289 Points (25.05.1941 / Godhra - Gujarat)

Prayer, No Petition For Pardon - Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Ye know, Father, I’m a prodigal son,
No father hails he whose mind’s stricken,
Lost in life’s litmus tests, of all fight,
A son that feels like a ship sunken,
Living as if in a darkling night;
I know, Lord likes repentant heart and head,
So I’ve come with a straight countenance,
Straightened, polite in true penitence
For all the mistakes that I have made,
As soldier in the battlefield of life,
I’m here, Lord, for a glimpse, your darshan1,
And brought have I no petition,
I shall fight till my last breath is rife,
And confident with your grace, my faith,
Unbent, unconquered, till my death.

You are an ocean of compassion,
I seek no alms, nor pleading my case,
Pitiful sons that plead in vain you shun,
I seek your goodly grace, kindly face,
Only if ye should feel pleased with me,
Crops cultivated I seek to reap,
I know you’ve given me eyes not to weep,
But yonder horizons to see;
This is my fair and just view,
You’re mighty great, agreed,
Yet, your son too is no lowly breed,
Bless me should ye so feel to get my due.

You have given the wide world enough,
Wind, water, light, ether and fire,
Sun and Moon, starry skies— entire,
Why, whole cosmos and all useful stuff,
I wonder what to give you, great giver,
Save, try and be your worthy son,
And yet, I’m no one-way receiver,
I’ll see that my dues are duly done.

So, Lord, if I come to thee,
Heavens, if it’s to keep me happy,
Just that if and when a mistake I make,
My steps waver, slip up or shake,
You’ll understand as a good father,
That human I’m, not much farther,
Pray, be no Yama2 with a punishing sceptre,
And a list of where I did falter,
Nor be a judge never to pardon,
Be thou a kindly father in my garden.

And I’ve a request as to where you stay,
Pray, let not your palace chief, temple priest,
Make a timetable, nor a list
Of who should and when to come to pray,
How can a Lord of world in prison be?
Your true abode is all of heaven;
As Sudama3 I confess I’ve come, you to see,
If not friend, let me be a proud son.
_________________________________________ _______
1.darshan1: For His holy sight, a glimpse.
2. yama2: The Lord of Death.
3. sud@m@3: The childhood friend of Krishna, who came to
meet his old friend, but did not talk of his poverty.
_____________________________________________ ____________
- Reflections | 03.02.14 |

Topic(s) of this poem: spirituality


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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 14, 2015



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