A Ballad of a Soldier

 

Having read otherworldly books

A soldier was begirded by a sudden whim to learn

Who he was and from where he came.

He wanted someone to explain that to him.

 

His curiosity chose a divine path.

Day by day fervour augmented

But his worldly soul received no impetus.

His sole purpose was soul-oriented.

 

With operose efforts

One night his soul jerked.

It rode up to higher zones.

From that day, it became his regular work.

 

He  became commingled with spiritualism

Like a small rivulet in a vast lake.

As a soldier, he forgot his duty.

At his abode, sitting with closed legs, he made others bake.

 

A complaint was made as regards his idleness,

That he always sidestepped his job.

By fellows with sarcasm he was belittled

An officer came to investigate what he was told by the mob.

 

First, the officer took note of  where the soldier was appointed.

After that he visited the invitation place.

He became flabbergasted. Whom should he blame?

At both places, he found the same wightÕs trace.

 

The officer was amazed by this angelic miracle

And spoke, "We demand nothing from you.

We are honored you are with us.

I judged what they told wasnÕt true."

 

I  remained in service for that spell

When the fact of the matter was unknown to you

But now I couldnÕt stay

Because the riddle didnÕt remain perdu [lost].

 

With one-sided ideology, the boss was a hard-nosed figure

And uttered, "Your name wouldnÕt be weeded out from the record,

But then I am set if I be in your gazette."

When scanned, there was no name and code.

 

 

 

A Ballad of a Marauder

 

http://www.indianruminations.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/ft.jpg

 

Time was, there lived a saint

Who was wont to deliver himself of practical preachings.
Direct was his attachment with God.
Oneness of inwardness and outwardness was the nub of his teachings.

Prompted by many for the selection of disciple.
But failed to renovate their littleness of mind.
They vied with one another for rung.
But his head didnÕt nod for any find.

Several tame animals were under his canopy.
One night he was in deep wakeless sleep.
They were tied nearby his hut.
A marauder came there to peep.

Among them, a featurely tall horse robbed his heart.
He untied the rope again and again.
But it tied to a piece of wood contrarily.
His gruelling efforts went in vain.

Stormily grubbed up the stump with a saw-toothed sword.
But many pieces popped up unasked.
Ropes swelled in more number than before.
But didnÕt flinch till circumstances lasted.

Gruff marauder when set out on journey
HadnÕt learnt how to return with empty hands.
Always remained consistent in terrible situation.
Always preferred death on defeatable lands.

Myriad fiascoes but to avoid aspersion,
To maintain the dignity of erstwhile record
Clashed with invisible angelic power from
Midnight to daylight with effulgent sword.

As everything seen with third eye.
But being omniscient didnÕt pay any attention.
After the wee hours, the saint came outside.
But surly marauder didnÕt blench in tension.

Though already wise to reality, but asked
Who he was and for what purpose came.
Daringly described himself as a robber.
And told he came with substantial aim.

By Giving the graphic details of his malintent
Adhibited, during the night session he did his best.
But failed to fulfill his mission as yet.
Never spent so much time on any other test.

Self sameness imprisoned the holy person famously.
Serious pleats changed into immense pleasure.
Hugging him tightly, gifted his preferent horse.
And said, preach the sermons of spiritual treasure.

 

(Author's note:  The saint didn't select others who always remained in service.  Automatically the saint's power penetrated into his body when he said preach the sermons of spiritual treasure as data is shared from one to other device and he left marauding as angelic power began to work within his body. Every poetry magazine is slave of its rules and differs from one another. It is more so in the case of the saint. He used to say, leave this topic, what happens in other places, but one thing should be on your mind is that only that person is capable of discipleship who would bring heart's matter on tongue as in the 4th line of the poem. A marauder who never attended a single sermon of the saint's preachings admitted from his mouth that he was a robber. Those who were regular listeners of sermons, they couldn't. He was a precision robber. The robber was not omniscient like the saint that he would be chosen as a disciple. He could have run away when no achievement was on his part and could have been sentenced to rigorous punishment. The gist of the poem is that a robber fulfilled the condition as desired by the saint though he was stranger. One sidedness and firm determination are the part and parcel of spirituality. No thief admits from his mouth that he is thief, but instead he covers his faults.)

 

© Harjeet Singh