EKALAVYA

He sits and broods.
In the midst of a bottle-green forest of thick foliage and rising mist!
He lies still and thinks.
He castigates his own weaknesses with a remorse-laden whip.
He remonstrates himself and
Demonstrates
No softness in admonishment.
He repents his own foolhardiness
And laments his kith and kin
Why is he so directionless in his acumen and skill?
Why can he not unbridle his passion
With the bow and the arrow
And show the world
His prowess and win
The unadulterated encouragement
Of his Master
Whom he worships in the solitude
Of the Jungle
But knows not how to
Approach him
As he bears the burden
Of blood and sin
Of belonging to a
Lowly kin


He has seen the Master
Day after day
Guide the others
The Royal Kin
The privileged and the
Powerful
The willful and the
Sinful
He has seen them all
In their every stance
And knows they
Stand not a single chance
If he strings the bow
And pierces the arrow
Through the
Humming wind
Oh! If only he could
Belong to a Higher,
Nobler kin!

He shakes up from his reverie
And picks up the bow at last
He closes his eyes
In deep concentration
And shoots the arrow
Which blasts
Through the breeze
In fiery speed
Racing against Time
And so fast!
That it is almost
Unseen
And Unmarked
Hark! It lashes
Through the green
A swish of baton
That springs
Unaware
On the chosen beast
Aghast!!!
He knows that his
Diligence has
Paid at last
He is ready to face the
Master
Whose footsteps
He has followed
Quietly but steadily
In the depth of the
Dark green
And sure his Master
Will be proud of Him
What is the fear and shame?
Even if he belongs to a
Lowly kin


Here he stands
In front of Him
With his heart
In his mouth
The devout
And the Master
He says it aloud
“I have followed
You Oh Master!
In my dreams &
Days of toil
Unheard, unseen
Un ushered
Into your fold
Of plebian discipline
But I have followed you
Oh Master
In quiet submission
And respect
Like a disciple
Following his Lord
Through thick and thin
I have followed you Master
And guided I have been
By your preaching
And tutored I have been
By your words and actions
In hiding, Of course
Since
I belong not to
A Noble kin
I could not seek your blessings
In open and bring
Glory to you thee Master
By my offerings”

The Master stands still
For a while
And then picks up the bow
“Show me your skill”
Says he, “Let me see how well
You have learnt me son!”
The boy bows down to the Master’s feet
And kisses the earth on which rests he
Picks up the bow and the arrow
With great reverence
He closes his eyes and sees inward
His Masters image in his heart
He strums the bow like a piece
Of Chord
And places the arrow with
Skilful accord
And shoots the dart in the air
Which springs to life
Like a rare
Piece of music
And cuts the air
With crisp precision and spears
Ahead
As the others watch with bated breath
The arrow pierces
The chosen victim
With stunning accuracy.

The Master rises and claps his hands
In utter astonishment and joy
Says he, “My boy!
You have done me honour
By choosing me as your
Master”
The boy melts away in shame
To hear his Master claim
Him to be his best pupil.
A reward that he deserves
The most
And the cheers
That fill the air
Of the gathered spectators.
The boy bows down again
To the Master with
Sheer reverence
As he gets up to go and
Stand with the rest
Of the royal kin
He thinks
The time has come
When he will not be barred
Because his lowly kin

The Master speaks
There’s a chill in his voice
“Son! You have learnt me well
But have not paid my return
As I have taught you all
That I could not even teach
The rest”
The boy stands his ground
Tall and proud
But not vain
Says he, “Oh Master!
Tell me what can be a fitting
Tribute to you that I give,
Tell me now and I shall
Do my level best to
Get the same
Whatever you name”

The Master smiles with a
Glint of vice
Extends his right hand
With the thumb held aloft
“I want this, your right thumb
My boy, a fitting tribute to my teachings
And crib not while giving it away
As this is it that will show the way
To the rest of your likes
Who try to match the skill
And fancies of the superior kin”

A hush falls in the gathered audience
A silence that speaks volumes
A stillness of awe
And stunned apprehension
A speechlessness that assumes
Words
The boy quietly comes forward
And speaks he strong and clear
“Oh Master Dear!
Your word is Law
I give you here
My right thumb so dear
To me
I know hereafter
I will never be able to
Pick up the bow and the arrow
But I hope my offering
Will not deter
Anyone who wish to
Rear a dream so rare
To perfect a craft
Which he is not born to learn
I pray that day comes soon
When a pupil gets the boon
To get what he seeks
And not fear
Punishment for nurturing a
Dream
Just so coz’ he does not
Belong to the perfect kin”

So speaks the boy and cuts his thumb
Looks not he back again
Whilst the others watch mute and dumb
The Master vents a sigh of relief
Now there is no one at least
To challenge his favourite
The Chosen One
He shall reign supreme
At the cost of a broken heart and hand
Of a downtrodden, the dusty one
Fit to die in silence and sin
The cheek of the lowly kin!
Wants to rub shoulders with the royal kin!!!
However, skillful may be he
Reverent and keen
Can you erase the glaring fact?
That he carries the burden
Of bad blood
And the stench of a lowly kin?
So thinks the Master in deep satisfaction
As though he has done the right thing
Nipped a bud before bloom
And trampled a flower in full spring
Murdered a wish before fulfill
Oh what a colossal sin!
Rulers have ruled us thus
With cruel designs and ruthless hearts
And they call it a massive win
Forgive them Oh Lord!
As they blind with power& lust
Tread and trample many an innocent
Heart and dream
Forgive them Oh my Lord!
As they know not how they sin