Tax Audit From Heaven Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Finishing tax returns one late night
Preparing I was to have sound sleep,
I heard a strange voice and stranger sight,
My heavy eye-lids were sinking deep.

Chitragupt I'm, he said with deep breath,
Dharma-lok's karmic record keeper—
Pearly Gate's no-appeal court on Death,
Have ye paid, asked he, all taxes fair?

Yes of course, in advance and at source,
Deducted duly from salary,
I replied, pride oozing from all pores.
But my books show a scene contrary.

My tax just cannot be outstanding,
I protested, tad irritated,
Here, check all papers, stamps, everything,
There's some error somewhere, I'm afraid.

For night-long cosy sleeps all so deep
Ye aught pay—by helping some so sleep,
Think of obligations unfulfilled,
Pay for a bridge in some life to build.

For warm sun, pearly dew drops at dawn,
Ye aught spread light in someone's dark life.

Providence has fragrant flowers grown,
Should not ye soften up someone's strife?

Happily in this life if ye live,
Isn't it debt ‘pon your oblivious head?
Learned man art thou and aught ye give,
Think of debts outstanding, still unpaid.

Grabbed have you things given and granted,
In my books I've tagged them bold and red,
Remember, naught so here's owned by thee—
Rain nor ever sun—naught so comes free.

Pay in time, penalty to avoid,
And we charge a surcharge, a cess too,
A free supply of fruits are enjoyed,
You've sown seeds, nor put in labour due.

Sow new seeds, better still sacrifice,
Else, loaded shall get thine Karmic dice,
Sacrifice is self-paid advance tax,
Pay up ere deadlines tax you the max.

So saying he bang-closed his huge book,
I woke up rubbing my heavy eyes,
Mirror showed me a tax-dodger's look,
Penitent the dream made me, and wise.
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Reflections | 01.01.13 |