‎the Seventieth Birthday ‎Of The Master ‎(Sri Sri Ravishankar) ‎(Happy Birthday Guruji 13 May 2026) Poem by Prabir Gayen

‎The Seventieth Birthday
‎of the Master
‎(Sri Sri Ravishankar)
‎(Happy Birthday Guruji 13 May 2026)
‎
‎Prabir Gayen
‎
‎Today — 13/05/2026 —
‎is the seventieth birthday of my Master,
‎a sacred day for every devotee,
‎the completion of seventy luminous years
‎of divine footsteps upon this mortal earth.
‎
‎The world is filled with celebration;
‎the wind itself seems touched by bliss,
‎and the whole creation smiles silently
‎through the joy of His holy existence.
‎Nearly twenty-six years ago
‎I entered that invisible circle,
‎initiated into an aura beyond speech.
‎
‎I saw Him once
‎and knew the fragrance of His divinity.
‎Twenty-six years have passed,
‎I have done nothing
‎worthy of receiving His grace,
‎yet His compassion descended endlessly
‎like moonlight upon a forgotten forest.
‎
‎He gave everything with His gentle smile,
‎He gave without asking anything in return.
‎He placed the entire universe
‎into the emptiness of my hands.
‎
‎One solitary noon,
‎while sitting in inward trance
‎with closed eyes and silent breath,
‎He came before me.
‎Not a dream,
‎no, not merely a dream,
‎but a vast inner vision
‎opening like eternity within consciousness.
‎
‎He came only to smile,
‎and in that smile
‎worlds were born and dissolved.
‎I received everything
‎and lost everything together.
‎
‎Many times He came
‎during my lonely hours of pain,
‎bearing unavoidable messages
‎from some unseen shore of compassion.
‎
‎His love descended upon me
‎without condition,
‎without demand,
‎without measure.
‎From distant places
‎I felt His presence surrounding me.
‎
‎He is everywhere,
‎still beside me,
‎still within me,
‎yet infinitely far away,
‎like a star visible
‎but unreachable to human hands.
‎
‎Twenty-six years have passed,
‎and I remain here still,
‎living with a broken heart
‎and a blue vision of existence.
‎
‎Life drifts endlessly
‎through waves of ancient sorrow,
‎old unnurtured wounds
‎clinging to the dark walls of my being
‎like moss upon abandoned stone.
‎
‎Life has gone far beyond my reach,
‎yet I still see my childhood days,
‎the pure village paths,
‎the innocent afternoons,
‎the youthful years filled
‎with unkind and wandering dreams.
‎
‎Slowly the hair has turned grey,
‎the body moves toward silence,
‎and now I wait for death
‎as one waits for the last boat
‎beside a fading riverbank.
‎
‎I know not
‎from which direction
‎my farewell shall arrive.
‎Sri Sri is there,
‎showering grace upon the entire world,
‎yet only I remain absent
‎from my own existence.
‎
‎My life still stands
‎twenty-six years behind,
‎caught forever
‎in some unmoving hour of memory:
‎the open fields,
‎the poor cottage,
‎the darkened room beneath a dreaming moon,
‎the simple village life
‎filled with ancient tenderness.
‎
‎He is seventy today,
‎and the world celebrates
‎His divine presence;
‎yet to me
‎He remains unchanged,
‎with soft compassionate eyes,
‎with that eternal smile,
‎speaking in a deep tender voice:
‎'Say what you want.'
‎And I answered then
‎as I answer still within myself:
‎'I want nothing.'
‎I wanted nothing,
‎and perhaps within that wanting of nothing
‎everything was already hidden,
‎only I myself was absent.
‎
‎I visited the ashram many times,
‎yet I was never truly there.
‎Only a vagabond soul wandered through its paths,
‎a broken pilgrim searching
‎for the ashes of his own existence.
‎
‎From afar
‎I offer my Master
‎a silent birthday prayer,
‎yet I cannot find myself anywhere.
‎For I am no longer what I was.
‎I died long ago,
‎twenty-six years ago I silently demised,
‎and only a fractured breath
‎still lingers somewhere deep
‎within the forgotten chambers
‎where once I truly existed.
‎
‎@Prabir Gayen
‎13/05/26
‎(14/05/26- 1: 18 AM.
‎