Conversation With God
I went to the place I often frequented
And was flabbergasted with what I saw.
Unable to control myself I questioned,
“Lord what has been done to you?
Why in the name of religion
Is shoving and pushing permitted
Amongst those
Who want to have a glimpse of you?
Why is special treatment given
To those who pay a hefty sum
To the Trustee fund?
Why is there a separate gate
For VIPs to meet you?
Aren’t we all equal before you?”
Disappointed, I continued my rant,
“Where is the sanctity that once existed
In your so called Sanctum Sanatorium?
Where is my Lord who used to console
When I ran up to him whenever troubled?
Who are you now?
Why have you changed?
Why cannot things be as before?”
I was unhappy, broken inside,
This place wasn’t what it used to be.
As I looked at the idol when I could,
Amidst shoving hands and shaking heads,
I heard a voice that no one could,
I heard a whisper in my head.
“Dear child I am still the same
But some things are not in my hands.
What has now become of me
Is not something I had planned.
Yes the place has turned commercial,
It reeks of money everywhere,
But remember wherever you go,
I am in your heart, I reside now there.
You don’t have to come here now,
Be wherever you are.
Close your eyes and I will be there,
For you I am never too far.”
I replied, “Lord you speak in rhyme,
And I in free verse.
Our poetic conversation too has changed.”
I was sad.
Then I heard him speak.
“Does it really matter
How we talk?
What’s important is
How we walk.
Remember, you are always my child,
Am always with you on your way,
In your every wish, need and dream,
In your thoughts and in what you say.
It is not the place that truly matters,
Neither important is the holy bath,
What is more important to me
Is the purity in your heart.”
I interrupted and spoke, “But Lord,
Why cannot you stop what is going on?
Why are you not putting an end
To this,
To the madness
That now exists?”
“Dear child,” the Lord replied,
“Each one has fanatic dreams,
If you think its all spiritual,
Trust me, it is not what it seems.
Good and evil, ugliness and beauty,
Peace and chaos, virtue and sin,
Are not really what’s displayed outside,
These are what exist within.”
Confused I prodded,
“Do you mean to say
I should now no longer come here to you?
Is this place no longer my home?
Can I not come whenever I want to?”
I was answered with a smile.
“I know you can see
The sadness in my eyes,
As I am talking with you,
This is what has become of this place,
So now come here only when I tell you to.
Don’t think I am banning you,
And that I won’t answer your call.
I will be there to hold you,
To hold your hand,
You will find me whenever you fall.”
Now at peace I closed my eyes,
I could see my Lord smiling still.
I knew I needed no particular place,
I could meet him at my own will.
As I pondered I realised,
I too was now thinking in rhyme,
It was Lord’s way of telling me,
My free verse is now his and his rhyme was mine.
One doesn’t need to go to a place
To worship and chat with the Lord,
He lives in us and with us,
He is, after all, God.
Place of worship no longer matters,
It keeps changing with time,
All that matters is the conversational Poetry,
Whether it is free verse or rhyme.
And was flabbergasted with what I saw.
Unable to control myself I questioned,
“Lord what has been done to you?
Why in the name of religion
Is shoving and pushing permitted
Amongst those
Who want to have a glimpse of you?
Why is special treatment given
To those who pay a hefty sum
To the Trustee fund?
Why is there a separate gate
For VIPs to meet you?
Aren’t we all equal before you?”
Disappointed, I continued my rant,
“Where is the sanctity that once existed
In your so called Sanctum Sanatorium?
Where is my Lord who used to console
When I ran up to him whenever troubled?
Who are you now?
Why have you changed?
Why cannot things be as before?”
I was unhappy, broken inside,
This place wasn’t what it used to be.
As I looked at the idol when I could,
Amidst shoving hands and shaking heads,
I heard a voice that no one could,
I heard a whisper in my head.
“Dear child I am still the same
But some things are not in my hands.
What has now become of me
Is not something I had planned.
Yes the place has turned commercial,
It reeks of money everywhere,
But remember wherever you go,
I am in your heart, I reside now there.
You don’t have to come here now,
Be wherever you are.
Close your eyes and I will be there,
For you I am never too far.”
I replied, “Lord you speak in rhyme,
And I in free verse.
Our poetic conversation too has changed.”
I was sad.
Then I heard him speak.
“Does it really matter
How we talk?
What’s important is
How we walk.
Remember, you are always my child,
Am always with you on your way,
In your every wish, need and dream,
In your thoughts and in what you say.
It is not the place that truly matters,
Neither important is the holy bath,
What is more important to me
Is the purity in your heart.”
I interrupted and spoke, “But Lord,
Why cannot you stop what is going on?
Why are you not putting an end
To this,
To the madness
That now exists?”
“Dear child,” the Lord replied,
“Each one has fanatic dreams,
If you think its all spiritual,
Trust me, it is not what it seems.
Good and evil, ugliness and beauty,
Peace and chaos, virtue and sin,
Are not really what’s displayed outside,
These are what exist within.”
Confused I prodded,
“Do you mean to say
I should now no longer come here to you?
Is this place no longer my home?
Can I not come whenever I want to?”
I was answered with a smile.
“I know you can see
The sadness in my eyes,
As I am talking with you,
This is what has become of this place,
So now come here only when I tell you to.
Don’t think I am banning you,
And that I won’t answer your call.
I will be there to hold you,
To hold your hand,
You will find me whenever you fall.”
Now at peace I closed my eyes,
I could see my Lord smiling still.
I knew I needed no particular place,
I could meet him at my own will.
As I pondered I realised,
I too was now thinking in rhyme,
It was Lord’s way of telling me,
My free verse is now his and his rhyme was mine.
One doesn’t need to go to a place
To worship and chat with the Lord,
He lives in us and with us,
He is, after all, God.
Place of worship no longer matters,
It keeps changing with time,
All that matters is the conversational Poetry,
Whether it is free verse or rhyme.
