4750THE HUMAN BEENS (1987)
- Dec 14, 2013--
Divine Family – Namastey
Monsoon season makes me nostalgic and that induces a desire to review the past events- of one’s life, doesn’t it! Going through a file of old poetry, I find it interesting to see the progressive development of the attitudes I have taken towards my life’s events! Though I am not one to “cling onto history” nevertheless, there sometimes is value in looking into the past. I have found another poem which I would like to share with the world family. I think our human lives are like “bubbles blowing in the wind” in these treacherous times of Kali Yuga. The poor Earth Mother is struggling under the heavy burden of the seven billion (and growing) human bodies, each one with a voracious appetite ! Reading the daily newspaper, filled with unpreceded floods, cold waves, earthquakes, & tsunamis, cyclones, hurricanes ( not to mention vicious wars), we really wonder how long things can go on! The only consolation is the knowledge that we are more than earthlings! We are cosmic beings! We live in a gigantic Universe of multitudes of dimensions ! Even if an atomic bomb blasted us suddenly into smitherins and the planet along with us, perhaps we would wake up in a sweeter, softer, better place! (Sounds like heaven, doesn’t it!) Food for thought!
Affectionately Yours in Yoga,
THE HUMAN BEENS (1987)
The skyscraper bit a square chunk out of the bright red perfect
Orb, outlined against the sea of grey … the sky of Delhi.
The sun could have been just another neon sign on the
City’s horizon, except it followed the natural rhythm of
Constant, almost imperceptible change as it rose,
Making its daily passage.
Man-made things stand still, till decay sets in, then
Collapse into ugliness and fifth.
Unlike nature, which merely decomposes, returning to
Its source, completing its cycle and disappearing.
Here, we mark the way we have come, not by footprints
In the sand , but by signboards proclaiming the virtues
of toilet paper, or the necessity of underarm deodorants.
Where have all the beautiful trees gone, which used to
Cool our paths in childhood, which used to hold our
Dreams in their arms?
There they are. Discarded wrappers of chocolate bars:
Tabloid newspapers, crumpled in the gutter, with
Bare-bosomed blondes tilting their weapons of war at
Any consumer with two rupees in his pocket.
We have come a long way from the Mother.
A long way from home.
The surrealistic plastics are in our blood and now, even
The sun, the moon, the stars seem insipid.
We fear the wide silent spaces and crush ourselves into
Subways, apartment blocks, city streets,
The hard concrete beneath our high-heeled,
metal-heeled shoes pleases us. We are lulled by the
sharp staccato of our egotistic walk through the mazes
of the city’s streets, seeking nothing more noble than
our own pleasure.
Is there any good higher than self?
Is there any religion higher then glorification of ego?
The Earth, she is dead. We humans live on another planet.
One of our own making. Slowly we replace even our own
Selves, with machines, with artificial hearts and lungs and brains.
From the green of Earth, we have been led to the
Obscene of the modern city-scape.
Our eyes are sucked out. Our ears are stuffed up. Our
Taste, touch, smell …dulled by a billion bombardments.
What can we call ourselves? Surely not human beings.
Perhaps … “human beens”.Yogacharya Dr Ananda Balayogi Bhavanani
Chairman: ICYER and Yoganjali Natyalayam
25, II Cross, Iyyanar Nagar, Pondicherry, India
www.icyer.com and www.rishiculture.org
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