I met a man in Varanasi
In a narrow lane
Eyes like lamps in the dark
Alit in a leonine mane
He sat by the wayside, on the ground
Reading a holy book
As I passed by, he said something
And stopped me with a look
I stood in silence and he
Scanned me up and down
Then he smiled a rueful smile
And slowly eased his frown
He spoke and in his voice
I heard the ancients of yore
“You’ve been called many times
But you follow the Path no more”
“Look inside and you will see
If your actions are just and true
You are here for a purpose
You haven't forgotten, have you? ”
He spoke in Sanskrit and, to my surprise
I understood everything he said
His words echoed loud and clear
Inside my heart and head
He went back to his Upanishad
I was rooted to the spot
Memories came un-beckoned
Of what I did and not
I touched his head, it was a blessing
I sought from his matted hair
Waves of love came to me
Ending my despair
Forgetting where I was headed
I turned back from this place
I felt cleansed inside me
And awash in amazing grace
When I woke in my bed
The grace was there to stay
I remembered the old man very well
And what he had to say.
I know if I actually went there
I will not find him any more
But he will find me,
when the need arises
Of that I am sure
Kishore Asthana
asthana@yahoo.com
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem