POEM 02 - The sage on the banks of river Ganges

On the banks of river Ganges

As I stood alone
Discontented, disappointed, unhappy,
With my own self, or life, confused
Trying to answer, the unanswered questions
Of my being, and at the same time
Watching the sun,
Take a dip in its holy waters
The boatmen, anchoring their boats to the shore
Feriwalas, walking briskly past the chaotic maze of people,
Trying to attract their attention
And natives gathering at the GHATS, for
The evening AARTI, amidst the distant sound
Of the temple bells
A sage, long hairs and a beard,
That covered his bare chest
Lost deep in meditation, oblivious
Of his earthly existence, wedged my interest and
Curiosity, a basic human instinct, dragged
Me to the place, where
He sat, undisturbed by me, and for him
My worldly presence remained unnoticed
As I rested myself, inches away
From his material body, I examined

His face, like a rigid terrain, to describe

Unsymmetrical, in every aspect
Yet holding an aura
Of purity and divinity
Like a river cutting through
The Mountains, forcefully yet
Serene and calm, within
And next to him
On an old wooden plank, a butterfly
Lay tangled, in a spiders web
Counting, probably, her last breath
Alas! What an irony
A life, set to end, where
The search for its meaning begins
Moments of my restless patience, paved way
And the sage opened his eyes, slowly
Fixing his gaze, to a creature,
Who holds, No known relation with spirituality
Yet, today finds himself, beneath its
Dissolving shadow, ironically
Clear thy doubts, the sage spoke
And I doubted what to ask?
In his husky voice, but a gentle tone, he continued,
Looking straight at me, his deep brown eyes,
Tearing apart my layers of insensitivities, clearing
The frost that engulfed my ignorant heart

Life is full of questions answered unanswered

And its our quest for the answers, that
We travel to the unknown, meeting the strange and the unfamiliar
Still silent, as nothing to speak
I fixed my stare once again, at the web and the butterfly, fighting
Her last chance to survive, and to free herself, from the shackles of death
And as if, knowing
My question impulsively, he held the butterfly
From her wings, freed it, much to the dismay of the hungry
And let her fly to safety, smiling
Satisfaction reflected from his face, said he
No two souls can be satisfied at one time
Do what makes you happy
And the world will return thy smile
And once again, closing his eyes, in yet another MUDRA of thought
He continued his quest for the unknown destination
Leaving me behind, with an answer
That solved my every question.