When Squirrels Earned Their Stripes Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

No man is small to hail a helping hand,
Nor any deeds are too small if well meant,
And no task too tough for a noble end,
Mind can if means can't make a mighty dent.

A journey of a daunting task off shore
Begins with but a single step forward,
Drop by drop can fill lakes is no vain lore,
An ounce of action… oft have we this heard.

Many a learned man know this truth well,
But rather than be a part we spin hypes.
Intention matters in life; a squirrel
It was that strived and earned her distinct stripes.

So goes a tiny squirrel's tallest lore,
Who, silent did work building up a bridge—
An episode from an epic of yore,
So sang sage Valmiki1 of ancient age.

A folktale, an aside from Ramayana:
Rama's spotless spouse forced into exile
To a far off lone spot by Ravana,
That came and kidnapped her in a monk's guile.

And, chasing false lure of a golden deer,
Which, too was the demon's bewitching guile,
Who, in stealth cried out, ‘Lakshman, O my dear',
And destiny unfolded in a while.

In Rama's voice the wily demon cried,
And Sita beseeched Lakshman, forcing him
To render help; what followed a bad dream,
For, scheming Ravan waited in monk's hide.

The search begins thence in woods and deep vales,
Hilly terrains, meadows and leas and dales,
And they come searching to where ends the land,
An ocean spread forth, looking like no friend.

Hanuman, Rama's key aid, a legend,
To whom no task too big was, such was he,
Then volunteers to leap across the land,
To luring Lanka, a land across sea.

And he returns with a goodly sad tale:
She's captive but safe, in Ravan's red hand,
In no mood fair peace parleys to avail,
And aught be defeated in his own land.

Rama pleads with the Lord of Sea: give way,
Adamant yet, when he was hard to melt,
Made he was wise when reason failed to pay,
Ere long when a challenging threat was dealt.

Rama begins building a bridge ‘pon sea
To deal with demons impervious to plea,
Apes lumber when rocks, a tiny squirrel
Too keen to play a role if tiny trickle,

And soon gets busy, but boastful the least,
Running errands; look at this, a brave beast!
Didn't wait long to figure out what to do—
A noble task towards Sita's rescue.

Wet, she wallowed in the coastal dry sand,
To sea again, leaping from stone to stone,
Unloading grains returning more to fend,
Made all else to tickle their funny bone.

Far too busy, perhaps way above all,
What with fun, funny bone, work worship was,
Sacred comes every task, naught is too small,
It's value, not volume, to noble cause.

And Rama watchful of it all amidst,
Said, wiping tears of joy welling in eyes,
O my tiny soldier, ne'er yet the least,
Happy I sure feel this to realize:

I doubt no more I'd meet my beloved spouse,
Defeat mighty demons for noble cause,
So saying he lifted the tiny wonder,
Monkey brigade as raised a loudest thunder.

And placed this spirit-lifter in his palm,
Soldiers as sang paeans of praise, sweet psalm,
He soothed it, his fingers ruffling furs,
Which, ere all grey turned lighter stripes of hers.

Squirrels come with stripes since that olden day—
Tale of fair intent, no grudged tithe in tray!
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Valmiki1: Ramayana was written by him, a sage who was a fierce bandit in his early life.
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Epic | 06.04.13 |