They ask me time and time again, to be assured,
Do you have a child that is the fruit of luck or labour?
What can I reply to worried friends in earnest
If not the truth that wished to be eschewed?
A child do I have not in spite of age
Can you not observe a fact so obvious?
Of course the outcome cannot be avoided long
So I will leave this life as I have walked this world
Without a hint of life and death
Nor a sign of afterlife in seeds of sons or daughters
Eternal atoms only shall remember phantom limbs
Whoever knows if here is not the reason why
All of man’s religions suit my soul and spirit?
In them perhaps can I attain some rest
On something bigger yet than me above my head
For lack of someone smaller now than me to raise
But why continue claiming loftier aims in life
And reaching out for gods as second best to joy?
Who would not be glad with just a bit of gardening
Behind the house in summertime at dawn or dusk?
The dog would dig for shade in ploughed manure
This, however, would I not allow, for blooming flowers
A child let loose would chase the sun around a mango tree
Although he’s never read the tales of Don Quixote’s quest
But then, the very cosmos hides inside a game of make-believe
So how can I discern the Trojan horse for lies in trusted truth?
Forget about the tree, the son suggests, and start a dervish dance
Spin around the axis mundi, plaited into genes and backbones,
Atop the mount of Kailash where my birth expects the two of you
Married on Meru as devī and lord of the universe, Shiva and Parvati
ॐ नमः शिवाय