By Joydipto Bose
Time and again, I find myself pondering,
How money buys one a garden of peace.
Eagerly, still, the less fortunate are toiling,
In spite of summer's loo, or winter's freeze.
Night or day, many work, scrimp and save,
Doing so to pay their children's school fees.
In their personal lives, small mishaps they brave,
Amiable and with smiles, they serve to please.
Nicely and politely in society they behave,
Speaking the languages their towns bestow.
Pliant in manners, candidness they daren’t crave,
Indebted to financial hierarchy of emotional flow.
Rich people have therapists to whom to speak,
Intimating their fears, having grievances to air.
This mental repair, though, many can’t seek,
And so they prefer to turn to religion and prayer.
Hope-filled stories adorn Indian spirituality—
Yama and Savitri’s story is one people share.
Many, inspired by it, pray to their family divinity,
Needling them to ensure their spouse’s health is in good care.
Then there is Durga’s Shakti and Kali’s fierceness,
Our Goddesses confronting demons that they slay,
Inspiring women to fight injustice with boldness—
Needed when social norms fail and undergo decay.
Dargahs of Sufi Pirs and Shirdi’s Mandir, many visit,
Invoking lessons on syncretism and harmony.
Awakening their mind and heart in prayer people sit,
Soulfully involved in heartfelt spiritual ceremony.
Sikhism teaches us that through social activity,
Our acts of compassion can be like prayer—
Underscoring the lesson of Indian spirituality:
Love and empathy can make our lives more fair.