The Fakir at the Ajmeri Gate – Delhi Poetry Slam

The Fakir at the Ajmeri Gate

BY TREVOR PINTO 

Hopscotch was the game
children and the adults played.
The difference is that one played, and the other prayed
honestly hoping to win the favours by luck.
Going down a Cobblestone path, a memory lane.

Vendors welcomed all to their shops.
The stalls on either side are neatly maintained,
with ice golas and crystals, a kaleidoscopic display
a heady mixture of the bakhoor and the oudh
greeted the visitor visiting the Fakir at the Ajmeri Gate.

Dreams sold to a dreamer, hopes to a seeker:
his presence was like an ancient oak
comforting a traveller, providing them shade.
A matka, a pot of water, was his possession,
him, a home to many at the market square.

Words a few, much seemed like a mutter
accommodated all with love
without sending anyone away.
People thronged to seek his blessing
and to feel the warmth he shared.

He whispered three words to his visitors.
With a smile like that of a child:
"Kwab, lifafa, aur naav - Dream, envelope, and boat."
The heart knows what it wants,
people went home feeling calm.

Wrap your dream in an envelope and let it sail
Seal it with patience, smile and wave;
be a dreamer, lover and faithful to the universe
One day, in the harbour of fortune, you will be received.
People found solace.

Fursat mile tho yaad rakna
Is Fakir ke, ghar chale aana
If time permits, remember the Fakir
you are always welcome to visit.
People bowed in reverence. Happy and content.

One fine day,
Fakir died, people cried,
it was gloomy outside and dark inside
Now, who will pray for the child, meek and the old?
The birds lost shelter in the grand old Oak.

Soon, a sparrow appeared, renewing hope;
they smiled like happy children,
when the first rain patted the earth, pianissimo
cutting the long dry summer. The relief of the petrichor,
euphoric as a desert traveller. Happy they were.

Entered his house to offer prayers.
Life is full of surprises, they say
and were taken aback by a windowless empty room
just a matka and a cot; simplicity explained.
Fakir was visually impaired.

He created the most beautiful one could ever imagine
he had sowed acorns in their hearts
avenue of oak trees of the future he had visualised
the reason he had asked to visit him
was to keep their hope renewed.

The walls of the empty room cast a spell
Charming myriads to chant "Kwab, lifafa aur naav"
No one returned empty-handed; they felt loved,
Such was the power, the power of the chant of hope.
The Fakir at the Ajmeri Gate.


Glossary:

Golas: An Indian dessert, mostly made of ice and coloured sugar syrup, popular during
summer, especially with children.

Bakhoor: Aromatic wood chips that are soaked in essential oils and sandalwood.

Oudh: Intensely aromatic perfume.

Matka: Earthenware, a pot

Kwab: Dream

Lifafa: Envelope

Naav: Boat

Pianissimo: to play at the softest volume possible, very quiet.


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