The Fakir and his Riches

Everything peaceful and saffron was
In the Garb of the luscious Dusk -
The open and generous Sky,
The Passionate gushing fall,
Playing in background from far off mount -
The background buzz of the throbbing life!
Those flocks of little birds,
Together returning to their nests,
With their loved ones beside!

The Fakir rowing the boat,
On the muddy water of the Hooghly,
With his saffron sack on his back,
Blue turban tied neatly up,
His ivory white robe from shoulder to toe,
With the right crease impeccably made.

The evening breeze conditioned
With the peaceful cold water of the river,
Flows along with his white cascading beard.
Gently rowing the boat,
The Fakir sings his song new –

Rejoice I my riches –
The invisible, held secured,
Far away from the reach of any mortal,
Deep down in the private chambers of my heart –
My Memories, my Dreams, my Inspirations, my Love!

Rust they none,
Plundering cannot be done,
Far away from the eyes of any,
To either appreciate of envy!
My riches are only mine,
Till the last breathe in my life,
And then continuing the journey,
In the life beyond!

Time I have none,
Heeding to the provocations of the world,
For busy am I –
Creating more such riches,
Every aware moment of my life!

My riches are not earthly,
But are works of art –
Straight from the abode of the Gods!
They appear to me in forms many –

Either in Inspiring words of another soul,
His invigorating songs or his poem,
Showing me a new reality,
To start a new journey!

In the gallant beatitude,
In the remembrance of that special one,
Long lost in the humdrum of causal tides.
Re-affirming to me every moment –
It is not bad that it’s all over now,
But it is that profound joy,
That atleast it happened sometime!

In that pristine involvement,
To create that destiny,
That victory for the mankind!
Combating consistently
Against all human slithering,
Advancing steadily to a direction Inspiring!


In that tireless pursuit,
Of wisdom, knowledge and
Exploration of the unknown!
Each time discovering something new,
Being more aware,
Knowing life in a new way!

Sinking in that feeling of belonging,
Among the hills of Kabul,
Breathing my own air,
Being wet in my own rain,
In the process of feeling myself,
Part of the flowers, the stones, and the wind,
Of my beloved motherland!

His riches don’t get over,
Neither have they perished!
With every share,
Multiplies it many folds!
With every new song,
Sharing the good news
With souls many!

Keeps humming his tune in the windy evening,
The Fakir, rejoices at his eternal riches!

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