Dwarakaithalaivan's poem in MUSE INDIA

Boats and Lamps - part 2




Our mentor is no more

And the river is dry.

Boats are under the parching sun.

We paddle our own canoe

In the hot waves now.

At last we are awake

And feel thirsty.

We didn’t have a gulp of water

When the river was in flood.

We failed to note

The intention of the river

Revealing a path.

we never noticed

The sketch of liberty

The river had drawn

Though we traveled along it

All those years.



We lie on the river bed

By the night fall.

The river bed is filled

With the darkness of our mind.

In those days we got

Lamps from the social reformer.

Almost every evening

He used to give us one

To wipe out our ignorance.

But we used them all

To decorate our showcase.



We used to sing

On the beauty of the lamps.

The rays of lamps

Are not the

Threads of silk

To knit our space of safety.

They are swords

To tear the

Ugly screens that

Hide the glory of liberty.

We never lighted a single lamp

To see our fantasy

Became a reality.

We went on

Receiving lamps from him.

But we never had a spark

To light a single one.



He was busy

Distributing the lamps

Filling the darkened space

With lamps instead of light.

We stack the lamps

In the godown of mind.

We climbed over them

And declared the world

The revolution of knowledge.



We never knew

That a single lamp is enough

To light a large space



A few create lamps

And some may distribute lamps.

But no one could

Light a lamp inside a man.



The Lamp of mind

Cannot be lighted

By any thing or any body

Unless it has the

Will to burn itself.

 
 
               courtesy : Muse India  Jan- Feb issue 2011