I close My Eyes

The Beggar woman under the tree

On the way to my office I daily see

Reminds me of the poem by Sri Sri

Titled aptly ‘Bhikshu Varshiyasi’.

In the unbearable heat of summers

In the monsoon with its thunders and rains

Through the teeth chattering, bone chilling winters

She is there, all by her self, with nowhere to go.

Staring in space, sometimes fidgeting

Perhaps for a respite she is longing

I often in guilt wonder how she is surviving

Her bedding the rags torn and tattered

Her only possession a bundle stacked

In between the branches of the tree

All this and much more I see

Now I begin to understand why

The kings of yore went around in disguise

And Gautam the Buddha closed his eyes

To help the wretched; a salvation to seek.

And I. I too close my eyes

In helplessness, hypocrisy and pretence

For no solution on Earth I see for the meek.

Nikhat Fatima