They say it that he is a criminal,

Away from too much human haunt and habitation.Archetypal, ethnic, racial, primitive and aboriginal,Stands it thereonUnder the peepul tree, the banyan tree.Dark and poor, backward and undeveloped, it tellsThe tales of human hunger, poverty, scarcity and want,A hard life it is difficult to pass indeed.

The MahafakiraI with the folded handsAnd my mindMeditating upon ShivaShiva the Yogi,The Sadhaka,The FakiraWith my all submissionOn the eve of Shivaratri,MahashivaratriReminiscent of the bridal partyWhen Shiva as a brideGoing to marry Parvati.

Brides are burntFor dowry,Pouring over kerosene?Is this the India,Is this,The IndiaThat gives us painTo think of?

God, Ananda-atma,Your Ananda-atma!Ananda-atma,Leaving it all,God, Ananda-atma,Leaving it all here!God, Your Ananda-atma,Ananda-atma,God, Your Ananda-atma,God!Leaving it all,Leaving at all to You,To You, God,Ananda-atama!O, Lord,Lord, Ananda-atma,Your Ananda-atma,Your, Only Yours!The soul,The departed soul has left,Left for the abode,Now only but Ananda-atma!The soul,Transmigratory soul knew I not,Knew I not, God,The soul, soul.The soul,The soul passes throughI knew it notWhich I…

And getting dizzyAnd falling sickTo clutch it alongAs for confusing with samsakara.A Brahmin South India mathematician’s son,Astrologic and horoscopic,He too like his fatherMixingAstrology with astronomy,A Kathaka dancer of comic and irony.

I am waiting forTo start the showOf the theatre of lifeTo bid good bye finallyTo en it up.