Among the streams of refugees
He was a boy of nine.
From the winds of Lahore
It was an exile forever.
He reached a refugee camp,
Life was that of a tramp.
Freedom at midnight was a chain
Hopes were nearly slain.
But in a stream he survived,
In a Delhi Haweli he gained his roots.
In the rehabilitation process
Time showered upon him grace.
At the Pahargung slot
His life presented a simple plot.
A small shop, a sparrow’s nest,
For decades that was his living chest.
Woolen clothing and home appliance,
For people, the corner was a paradise.
Generations knew him well,
He spent his days in that gentle wind.
He was like a banyan tree,
His life was an open creek.
I was a regular visitor there,
When winter arrived, I needed his sweaters.
In his presence
My moments were graceful.
He would unfold his life-
A story of struggle and endless strife
On a dark day, a few years ago,
During the festival of lights
In a blast around that part,
Shedding blood, he left this rueful earth.
As I peep into his shop now
I see his widow, face very serene.
It is clear her silence speaks volumes,
It seems well she has pardoned the world.
As I leave the shop with candid feelings
A Bhajan reaches my ears.
“Iswar Allah Tere naam,
Sabko san mathi de Bhagvan*”.
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Iswar Allah...Bhagvan*= Lord, you are known as Iswar and Allah. May you give everybody the right kind of intelligence and mind.
Excellent narrative poem, very well written...touching..........10++++++++++
Ravi I am fine thank you and good to be back reading your poetry again... this piece is outstanding... it reminds me so of the shopowners I knew growing up... Regards Alf
a wonderful narrative poem you bring out the character of the refugee very well..a very touching poem sir
A wonderful narrative story written with sensitivity and style. A very touching piece of writing indeed. love Karin
A great message through pathetic portrait painting of a refugee lady, graceful and serene. Thank you for sharing it. CP
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I often wonder, when I see what people all around the world are going through, what makes them go on striving? Your poem is a homage to all these people we read about, not as individuals, but anonymous victims of riots and terror. Very, very powerful reading, Ravi!