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Other articles in Arts & Entertainment > Poetry
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| On the banks of Benaras |
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| Arts & Entertainment > Poetry |
| Written by priyesh karkera |
| Sunday, 15 February 2009 07:58 |
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Without a loin to cover him up, Just a stick to help, Inhaling with utmost intent The smoke of his God. Days has he given up The love for his life, Sleeping on the ashes His stick very close by. Nobody turning towards him Even to bother, The smokey view manifests The time for him to shudder. The time for him to journey Through the lands under spell, Like a drowning pearl In this world so knave. Unfazed by soceity, Like a firefly in the night sky, Using its own faint light To fly the shadowy 'Tundra'. People take a dip In the water so holy, For him just a gaeity Caressed by the chill. Never feeling the raindrops He so wishfully numb, Not having to feel the incineration of hunger, Not having to constrain his senses! Like a sedentary cocoon, Metamorphosed from a catterpillar, Never wanting to remember those days When soceity never conferred him a comforting healer. The 'Rudraksha' remembered him Of those who were so near. Not having to leave them But left in the hands of Death! His life, a mere coral In the deep blue ocean, With the rays of the sun Flickering with the brightest grace! |
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