Untold Story 9 (The Lion) Poem by Indranil Bit

"Every morning I dig the soil, I make it loose,
I am working with all sweat to make ends meet,
Only the king is sitting idle! " complains the Hare.

"Every morning I carry the seeds, make it sow,
My tiring wings are never paid better, none bother,
Only the king is sitting idle! " complains the sparrow.

"Every morning I dance on flowers, my legs tired,
I make sure they grow into beautiful fruits to cater,
Only the king is sitting idle! " complains the butterfly.

"Every morning I make the meadows sweet n green,
Fit for a royal welcome to an advancing imperial guest,
Only the king is sitting idle! " complains the antelope.

Such and so all complains one by one, their grievances,
All seems happily living yet unhappily pondering their duty,
"The king is idle" they all do say so and enjoy to believe in it.

"You don't step out even for a fresh catch" complains the lioness,
"it is me who has to feed you each diurnal! Tiring it is at times"
"They all are correct", she droops her head and console herself.

That morning few alien two legged creature came carrying spear,
He stepped out, roared, attacked, got wounded, a drama followed,
Finally, a retreat marks a glory in the jungle, aliens are driven out.

"I am the king, I am meant for this, I am not made to cater you! "
Roars He breaking the silence, "to keep peace is my soul duty"
"You can tolerate a week hungry, never a week in a lost state! "

All now gather around him, a formidable way to keep their chin up,
"we believe in you, do forgive us for the audacity shown against you"
They plead, He believes, peace returns, a caressed moment follows.