Saffron Robes

Reads: 328  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short poem on my personal experience while I visited Chhind ( A well known temple in Madhya Pradesh, India). Despite the tranquility of the place I couldn't help but notice the hypocrisy of people when it came to giving alms to the beggars and the saints.

Submitted: May 24, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 24, 2016

A A A

A A A


He knew not what heat was, it was His warming smile,
What was the need for him to work, when he could live off guile,
He claimed the Lord did speak to him,
Behest his saffron robes,
He felt no hunger, knew no thirst,
In his deity's abode,
But as a skeptic, that was me, could only see this man,
Who lived off alms, when he could work, knowing that he can,
And people flocked to feed him sweets, behest his saffron robes,
While meters apart two kids did faint, bereft of any food.
And as cruel as it might seem, it was the way of life,
For one was saint and other a beggar, the reason must apply.

 

- Ashay Anand


© Copyright 2020 Ashay Anand. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments