In His divine hands is a silver flute, which He flaunts and flips and flicks en route
To town where dwell many a lovely dame, who are bucolic, blissful and away from fame.
He cachinnates at times, smiles and laughs too with the men who chum him with no ado;
But then He goes missing, causing a fright amongst chums chirping not, losing His sight.
For hours His confidants await His return
As they know He is at a place they can’t go.
In the meantime they play games with an urn,
Sing, dance, feign gladness, waiting for their go.
The Man who is missing returns but not, for his job on Earth is done, He’s hard wrought;
He is now betwixt the sky and the Earth, the flute in His hands intimates His worth.
The Sun salutes Him and the stars bow down, the Moon seeks His blessings, seeing His crown,
A crown that is made of a metal found not on Earth but on the highest base sound.
Oh! His comrades have died, thousand years have passed;
Some had gone away soon, some had waited long.
Yet an associate of His is seen masked,
And if you thought he was dead, you were quite wrong.
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Now in Swarga is He and greeted by the bravest of gods who’ve known how to fly;
For Him though it has taken seconds just to reach this world where iron nails not rust;
The planets beholding the scene are seen by the Man Himself with a conscience clean.
He after witnesses His comrade sole, who seems to house a sharp, courageous soul.
Oh, he deserves not, says He, to be down there.
‘For his spirit and love for Me is pure and fine.
But I’ll play a game, see if he does well fare,
Then figure if he’s ware of being fully Mine.’
He assumes a beautiful woman’s form and sets about the task amid a storm;
The storm His creation so He joys it, reaches the spot during the man’s last sit.
For the mortal a thousand more years pass; he is found tattered, distressed, and aghast.
His eyes when open, the woman is seen; he thinks, ‘A woman here? A strange scene!’
But when he sees the blue eyes of the woman,
he agnises his friend whom he’d till then missed.
‘Oh, it’s you, my Lord, the Protector of Men.
Knew you’d come back, your bhaktas you’ve never ditched.’
The God of gods does smile at the man then, for he is deemed fit to be with His men.
Revealing His form seers yearn to see, shows what’s within: worlds floating on a sea.
‘Learn,’ He says, ‘that I shall ever dwell in all, for Am the cause of causes, I’ve no fall;
Now you with Me forevermore shall live, you’ve earned My esteem, your sins I forgive.’
The blessed man soon exits his body old,
And with God he traverses the upper worlds.
In Vaikuntha, recalls the tales he was told.
‘Everything here is sure real, I sight no curls.’
He bides there with God and those God has friended,
Comes to share what’s true so Earth could be mended.
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