Sunday, May 31, 2015

The Priest of the Temple

The trouble with being back home after a long time is that one begins digging into the past, and many things that had been hitherto forgotten come swimming up to the shores of memory. It was the same case with me today. I was searching for something, and came across a black folder with all my scribbles and doodles, dating all the way back to 2003, when I first began writing. I wrote this narrative poem on Abhirami Pattar, the patron saint of Thanjavur, on the Christmas Day of 2006.


He was a priest, pious and humble
Every moment, the Goddess' name he'd mumble.
The Cyclone of Misery was blowing
Yet, devotion to the Goddess kept him going.
His firm faith brought him glory,
A few were jealous of his story.
While most were wonderstruck,
The envious gossiped about his 'luck'.
So off they marched to the King of the town
Who listened to them with a furious frown.
Blasphemy! The priest forgetting the rites, his duty,
Instead singing praises of the Goddess and Her beauty.
The King asked him about the position of the moon
'It's a full moon' came the reply, as if in a swoon.
So enraptured by Her splendour was he
The King was next to him, he failed to see!
It was actually a new moon night
The dark sky didn't have a sparkle of light.
The King was in a fit of rage
He ordered his men to slay the sage.
The poor man was sentenced to death by burning
Platform prepared, the fire was turning.
Forced to play Death's game,
And yet he chanted the Goddess' name.
Suddenly they heard a laugh, loud and clear
They saw the Goddess' face, beautiful and dear.
She threw, into the air, one of her ear studs
And it turned to a full moon, like blossoming buds.
This parable teaches humanity
That if man is free of conceit and vanity
That devotee, the Creator will never forsake
All you need is solid faith that'll not shake.

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Sunday, May 31, 2015

The Priest of the Temple

The trouble with being back home after a long time is that one begins digging into the past, and many things that had been hitherto forgotten come swimming up to the shores of memory. It was the same case with me today. I was searching for something, and came across a black folder with all my scribbles and doodles, dating all the way back to 2003, when I first began writing. I wrote this narrative poem on Abhirami Pattar, the patron saint of Thanjavur, on the Christmas Day of 2006.


He was a priest, pious and humble
Every moment, the Goddess' name he'd mumble.
The Cyclone of Misery was blowing
Yet, devotion to the Goddess kept him going.
His firm faith brought him glory,
A few were jealous of his story.
While most were wonderstruck,
The envious gossiped about his 'luck'.
So off they marched to the King of the town
Who listened to them with a furious frown.
Blasphemy! The priest forgetting the rites, his duty,
Instead singing praises of the Goddess and Her beauty.
The King asked him about the position of the moon
'It's a full moon' came the reply, as if in a swoon.
So enraptured by Her splendour was he
The King was next to him, he failed to see!
It was actually a new moon night
The dark sky didn't have a sparkle of light.
The King was in a fit of rage
He ordered his men to slay the sage.
The poor man was sentenced to death by burning
Platform prepared, the fire was turning.
Forced to play Death's game,
And yet he chanted the Goddess' name.
Suddenly they heard a laugh, loud and clear
They saw the Goddess' face, beautiful and dear.
She threw, into the air, one of her ear studs
And it turned to a full moon, like blossoming buds.
This parable teaches humanity
That if man is free of conceit and vanity
That devotee, the Creator will never forsake
All you need is solid faith that'll not shake.

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Post a Comment