The poor infant
opens its heart
and cries,
O’ you
O’, O’ God!
Why do you reside
up there in the heaven?

Tell me, tell me the truth.
They say, “You reside up there
because you are afraid
of your own creation.”
Answer me god,
answer me soon.
Why are you so silent?
Why don’t you speak?

The god,
peeped in from the sky
and said, “Have patience, my son!
You will know the answer
when you will grow old?

No, my god, I want to
know the answer now.
What guarantee is that
I would live to see
the morning Sun.
“So, my god,
should I believe them?”
said the child.

“ No!”

“Then God, tell me,
why do you reside up there?
Aren’t you moved
by our prayers?

“What prayers,
you are talking about, my son,”
said the God.

You shut up
the doors of the temple,
and burn the incense of hate, inside.

You do not pray.
You just pretend to pray.
You curse-
Swear, cry and shout.
In that turmoil,
no god hears
what you say.

Ok. I admit.
“But tell me god, please tell me
why do you reside up there?”
said the child.

“My dearest child,
I do not reside up there,”
giggled the god with a smile.

Let the forgetful say,
“ I reside up there,
in the heaven’s starry hall.”

Stretch your arms and
catch my hand, you
unbeliever, my boy!
Feel me, -
In the buds of your smiles,
and sing with me
the song of peaceful life
- your birthright.

But the infant
wasn’t convinced at all.

Years passed,
the infant grew old and gone at last.

But the question he has asked
is as fresh now, as it was then
because its roots were dipped
not in laughter but in tears.


Copyright 2006 Bhuwan Thapaliya