Two Poems

(Rendered from the Original Poems in Marathi.)

GOOD MORNING

Everybody in Bombay seems to be self-absorbed and in a hurry. Rarely does a man know the name of his next-door neighbour; and, unless introduced, educated people will not make inquiries of each other; and even at gatherings they will sit in sullen silence.

What do children know of this unsocial ‘courtesy’? Trustfully they smile flower-like and make others smile. Once as I was walking by the road I found myself suddenly stopped by a little girl who offered me her hand.

She appeared to be some rich man’s daughter, playful and affectionate. Her forehead looked radiant with bliss. Her complexion was all rose, and her hair all gold. Her dress was foam-like-light and fluffy.

With her right foot on the scooter and the left on the ground, she looked up with a silent questioning smile. In her lovely blue eyes there was that trustful curiosity at the sight of which the tragic sense of inequality in this world flees far away.

Who will not accept the proffered hand of such a girl, and who will not, swept away by affection, touch her cheek with his finger?

When I said "Good Morning," she repeated the greeting, and lightly balancing herself on the scooter she sped away. Oh, she came like a morning breeze to a heart struggling for fresh air, and in a moment she had appeased the hunger of restless soul.

TO THE UNKNOWN LORD

That you are living somewhere in the world may be true or false. I know not; but O Lord, my inner self cannot help calling you.

Whether you will return, and when, whence, and how I do not know. I stay where I am with my mind wandering every where to find you out.

The Ganges of my love descends from the heaven of my soul; and only on the head of my All-Benign (Sadashiva) can she come to rest.

You have gone away from me; but my love for you cannot. How can a nun’s garb appeal to one that ever longs for a union of hearts.

In vain have I attempted to distribute freely my treasures among the people; the wealth of my heart grows with the magic of your love.

My life is like a lamp whose flame is its love. Let that flame burn eternally in the inner sanctuary of your shrine.

As long as this heart continues to beat, worldly duties cannot be avoided. Let me perform them all, singing and chanting your name.

I was born weak: what strength can I show? Hold me by the hand, O Lord and lead me forth–a foolish woman.

At home, or in the wild, at sea or in the desert, wherever I be, let me feel that you are very close to me.

Let the waters be fathomless, and let the wind be wild, let the ship roll, but let it sail on.

Your beaming smile is the nectar of my life–O Lord, fear of death finds no place in a heart full of love.