Can't spot, even a bright-eyed person

 

Gone for a surprise visit that night,

to find out d' temple's inside affair

before going close to the trinity,

could see d' temple administrator

 

With the hands folded, eyes shut,

five girls stood in front of d' Gods

almost a pin drop silence around,

prayed humbly in speechless mode

 

Went little ahead, keenly observed,

from eyes tear trickling unceasing

each, brimful with pious devotion,

at such tender age, so surprising

 

One by a fluke dropped her hanky,

in an effort to swab her eyes wet

she leaned down to search for it,

d' probing hands couldn't locate

 

He realized she had lost her sight,

needs a hand, one should  be kind

visit over, caught each other's hands,

begun to depart, d' whole lot blind

 

Forgotten then temple inspection,

followed d' group of girls unaware

could see outside d' garbha-griha,

calmly stood their ma'am teacher

 

Curiosity urged him to explore out,

d' group from Jabalpur blind school

some relaxing in the pilgrim house,

total 20 have come for a study tour

 

Five who insisted on a visit to Gods,

before going to bed, brought here

it evinced their absolute devotion,

approval accorded by their teacher

 

You couldn't see Lord Jagannath,

by no chance have ever seen Him

yet came to such a distant locus,

despite the troubles, such a whim

 

Utterly unsought inquisitiveness,

too delicate unwanted question

all heedfully listened to him but

naively replied one of the teens

 

Assuredly blessed with agile eyes,

you visit God with great devotion

but for a while, u turn blind like us,

d' open eyes get shut on their own

 

God is great, made us blind forever,

so that in life, each single moment

we perceive his intimate presence,

in ups and downs, twists and bends

 

D' work experience of three decades

vaporized abruptly, he turned dumb

not able to spell out a single word

the genius girl made him succumb

 

Consciousness to feel Jagannath,

not found in a literate's education

delicate to interpolate it in d' soul,

can't spot, even a bright-eyed person

Handle all the muddles and worries

 

Bore full load as if a rough book,

likely liabilities of all the subjects

ought to have a disgusting position,

no alarming surmise ever to object

 

Fair books appear clean and tidy,

deftly maintained, well decorated

relish own convenience, ignore it,

its presence also never admitted

 

Kept on d' face often to go to sleep,

snoring causes its pages to flutter

felt a searing pain as if getting torn,

no single word it attempts to utter

 

Heart shapes, drawn on its pages,

1st letters of names tagged together

detached with much care, tied to d'

hydrogen balloons to float in the air

 

Wildflowers and withered leaves,

again traced if love gets shattered

metamorphosis of d' seasons felt,

Summer ensues, Spring departed

 

Carry several half-resolved sums,

scribbles of insolvable memories

in odd handwriting and code words

only d' person who wrote can read

 

Berries kept and ate with rock salt,

in torn pages rolled out to packets

crinkled to paper stones to hit and

to make paper boats and rockets

 

Berries kept and ate with rock salt,

in torn pages rolled out to packets

crinkled to paper stones to hit and

to make paper boats and rockets

 

We never recognize d' company of

one alike rough book in our family

who can clear every single obstacle,

handle all the muddles and worries