Once there was nothing here except a molehill
Children flung half-eaten stolen mangoes at
Mole-shadows. But then a sharp soul-searching smell
Incensed the wind. Out of nowhere, an idol
Face-scratched, made of stone, excavated itself
And sacred words, dragged struggling, bid farewell
To the bookshelf to be thrown among man-gods:
An instant fable burrowed night and day through
A mountain of disbelief, throwing up crowds,
Prophylactic chants, wombs dying to be healed,
And sun-defying souls waiting in time’s queue
With folded prayers hermetically sealed.
At once intriguing and more than a little enigmatic. And somewhere like a chimera in the background,Borges if this reader is not mistaken.
Thank you, Louis. The poem is a satirical attack on so-called ‘Godmen’ in India who exploit the credulousness of ordinary God-fearing folk for selfish, financial gains, in the manner of Brother Jero in Wole Soyinka’s Jero plays.
A poem that explores how the insecure society elevates the insignificant to heights. Insightful.
Thank you, Vineetha.
Insecurity begets faith in so called god men ….very succinctly put .
Thank you, Santosh.
Thank you, Santosh.
beautiful .. weak is always a target of smart people 🙁
Thank you, Sarala.
The Man-God has waded enough himself through cess-pools of poverty, not to let go of the milch-cow that emerges from the vulnerability in the miracle-seekers’ minds…
Will there be an end to such humiliation? We ourselves are the exploiters and the exploited…..and only we can rid ourselves of such things. Superb poem Sir.
Thank you so much, Aashi.