Among the streams of refugees <br />He was a boy of nine. <br />From the winds of Lahore <br />It was an exile forever. <br /> <br />He reached a refugee camp, <br />Life was that of a tramp. <br />Freedom at midnight was a chain <br />Hopes were nearly slain. <br /> <br />But in a stream he survived, <br />In a Delhi Haweli he gained his roots. <br />In the rehabilitation process <br />Time showered upon him grace. <br /> <br />At the Pahargung slot <br />His life presented a simple plot. <br />A small shop, a sparrow’s nest, <br />For decades that was his living chest. <br /> <br />Woolen clothing and home appliance, <br />For people, the corner was a paradise. <br />Generations knew him well, <br />He spent his days in that gentle wind. <br /> <br />He was like a banyan tree, <br />His life was an open creek. <br />I was a regular visitor there, <br />When winter arrived, I needed his sweaters. <br /> <br />In his presence <br />My moments were graceful. <br />He would unfold his life- <br />A story of struggle and endless strife <br /> <br />On a dark day, a few years ago, <br />During the festival of lights <br />In a blast around that part, <br />Shedding blood, he left this rueful earth. <br /> <br />As I peep into his shop now <br />I see his widow, face very serene. <br />It is clear her silence speaks volumes, <br />It seems well she has pardoned the world. <br /> <br />As I leave the shop with candid feelings <br />A Bhajan reaches my ears. <br />“Iswar Allah Tere naam, <br />Sabko san mathi de Bhagvan*”. <br /> <br />******************************************************* <br /> <br />Iswar Allah...Bhagvan*= Lord, you are known as Iswar and Allah. May you give everybody the right kind of intelligence and mind.<br /><br />Ravi Panamanna<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sab-ko-san-mathi-de-bhagvan/
