What Am I Doing Here
Many moons back
Sitting on a banyan tree
A boy looked into himself
And asked
What am I doing here?
In the shadow of the clouds
In the sweetness of the bananas and ripe cucumbers
In the giggles of the naked kids running around
In the noisy quarrels of the village women
In the chanting of the Brahmin priest
In the ever changing color of the paddy fields
He wanted to find the answer
Tried again and again
To read the essence of life
In the color of the saris
In the scent of the sandal paste
And in the dusty and dirty faces of the beggars
In the yelling of the grumpy old men
And in the pleasant cries of the new born babies
And in the wailing of the ladies in a death in the family
The search continues
And the answer eludes and skips from the gripe
And laughs at me
The tiny fish
Trying to fathom the ocean
((*.*))
January 03, 2000 |