IF A METEOR HITS THE EARTH….
An Anthology of Poems - Table of Contents
01) IF A METEOR HITS THE EARTH….
02) THE FIRST EPITAPH
03) UNLUCKY FOR ONE
04) AFTER DEATH..
05) WORLD’S GREATEST DOWRY
06) CONUNDRUM THY NAME, TRANSFORMATION
07) GOD HELPS THOSE WHO HELP OTHERS
08) INCOMPLETELY COMPLETED
09) ONLY VIVACIOUS COMMENTS, PLEASE.
He won’t allow at any cost,
The so called ,
“Doomsday,
As re-creation ,and repair,
would be beyond local repair,
and would be possible,
after a couple of million years.
And the great day,
of destruction and devastation,
Will come,
Nobody knows when,
Definitely not ,
Under the beck and call of
The fortune tellers,
Or the future predictors,
But it will come,
With aura ,
Followed by
The death knell,
Rhythmically abuzz with
“Death macabre”
Water bodies will swell up,
Avalanches will crack and cascade,
With whatever comes ,
On its way.
The clouds will burst,
With thunders and lightnings,
Rains in cats and dogs,
And the world will be in,
Whirlpool and whirlpool,
Vanish in “Bermuda triangle”,
For an unknown destination.
Hustle and bustle will reverberate,
People will run hither and thither,
Helter and Skelter,
The Topsy Turvy motion of carcasses,
Move from slow to fast.
All these imaginations,
and doomsday predictions,
make the people,
Hypochondriac,
drive them to the verge of death
The epitaph,
Probably one and the only one,
erected before Yamaloka,
Reads ,
“Son of surya and
brother of Yamuna,
Rested here in peace”,
***********************
“I am sacrificing
My today,
For the dispensation of justice and death
Tomorrow,
And paving the way
Of mortality.”
And Chitragupta’s
Age old archives,
Put in golden letters as number one
“Yamaraj, Dharmaraj”
What a sacrifice !!
To set an example,
Own life !!
Yes, he is the one,
Group them into,
birth day wise and the end
of their journey,
Using “Find and replace”.
And the process,
Simple arbitrary,
Except birthdays,
No consideration,
For young and old,
No consideration for
healthy and sick.
Just to stamp the DOD(Date of Death).
And for mass extinction,
Of species,
Just “direct delete”,
Not even to the Bin,
To invoke the deeds
of Savitri and alike….
And escape the noose.
The process for millions,
“Every second, 1.8 humans die
and 4.2 humans are born”
To format a personalized file,
A herculean task.
Beyond imagination his work load,
Beyond appreciation his judgement,
Yet,all despise him.
Hundred.
Floating high on cloud nine.
Celebration for century,
with splashing of wine,
Joyousness and jubilation,
uplifting the spirit,
Ecstatic,
dancing to the tune,
of “Hundreds” symphony ,
With one exception,
down the ages:
Discordant to music of
merriment.
Shishupal of
Mahabharat fame,
Krishna’s cousin,
Incarnated “Jaya”,
One of the janitors
Of Baikuntha.
Born with three eyes,
And four arms,
The ectopics shedded,
When put on Krishna’s lap.
Mother knew the slayer,
Did beseech him
To spare his life
hundred times.
And done !!
But the bejewelled Baikuntha
Entrance missing its
Keepers,Jaya and Vijaya.
The great coronation ceremony ,
Of Yudhishthira,
punishment for the
opprobrious abuse made
against Krishna and Bhishma.
Hundredth mistake pardoned,
But, not the next one.
Activated spinning of Sudarshan,
Roared and screeched,
Decapitated Shisupal,
On hundred and one mistake,
And the penance is over,
Lucky,
To breath heavenly air,
Three yugas after.
Edited - Dr Ajaya Upadhyaya
Notes - Vishnu’s Vaikuntha was guarded by “Jaya and Vijaya”. Once they didn’t allow Markand sons to enter, hence cursed severely but on Krishna’s interference the curse was reduced and they preferred three births in the earth and to be killed in the hands of Vishnu to go back to heaven. So Vishnu killed them in differentt Avtars as Hiranaksha and Hirankashyapu, Ravana and Khumbakarna,and lastly Sishupal and Dantavakra.The last duo were maternal cousins of Krishna.And Sishupal’s mother Shrutasava was Kunti’s sister.Sishupal was born with three eyes and four hands.Once Shrutsava put Sishupal on Krishn’s lap and to her surprise Shisupal’s ectopics shedded off and she came to know that Krishna would be the killer of Sishupal. Hence she beseeched Krishna to forgive Sishupal’s 100 mistakes so that he wouldn’t be killed….
On Yudhisthir’s coronation day he humiliated Krishna and Bhishma and it was intolerable ,hence beheaded with Sudarshana…on his 101 crimes….hence 100 is not lucky ,so far for one that was Sishupal.
What happens after death ?
Nobody for sure,
Knows it,
Not only today,
Neither knew yesterday,
Nor will know morrow,
But remain uncanny, forever.
The body,
The only identification,
(instead of Tom Dick and Harry,
Or Thy ,He ,their and Her)
Consumed as carrion,
Vultures enjoy it,
Cradled Maggots ,
To finish the decayed ,
Once was so lively ,
With flesh and blood.
Mother earth,
Air, fire and water,
Have all their share !
The dead will be gone,
Only minutes matter.
If at all the soul,
OK it is there,
Like the cow, purple
(The soul) Though can’t see,
Can’t hear and feel,
(Suppose “can’t “ replaced by “can”)
Imagination, Imagination !!
To be a designated second,
In a living ,as his second,
The heart will tickle.
The eyes can see,
How the vultures eating the carrion,
The kidneys can filter blood,
Simultaneously from X and Y,
Lungs can breathe,
The factory starts manufacturing….
And all these,
Are transplants,
A second life for the recipients
And a second , virtual, for the donor.
Possibly multiple,
Heart, lungs, kidneys, liver, pancreas
Thyroid ,corneas,
And a living “Dashavatar”.
The body will be consumed,
But the parts/organs will remain,
If harvested before brain death,
As reply/witness to the query,
“What happens after death”.
Masterly intricate
Is the design?
Mysteriously
Hanging from the trees,
With the entrance
Facing opposite
The direction of
Monsoon rain.
Wonder how they share
Nostradamus prophecy,
During monsoon,
enjoy,
Swinging, in their water proof,
Storm proof castles.
Entrance is tubular and narrow
To prevent predators smooth adventure.
For taking rest
Specially the female and the offspring
Finishing touch given
With a layer of soft grass.
The male is the main nest builder
At a time designs 5-10.
Visited by the lady luck
And if approved,
Both finish the nest.
And destroy the rest.
What a dowry!
Wish,We humans
Culture this custom.
CONUNDRUM THY NAME, TRANSFORMATION
Life was a riddle,
Is a riddle still
And would remain so,
As long as the creation exists.
“Cow” just three lettered,
We fiddled with it,
And created,
“SEE-O-DOUBLE YOU”.
13 letters….?
Funny riddle ?
A little further,
We painted it colored,
Yes “purple”,
And make it an enigma,
And sang in the voice of
Gelett Burgess,
“I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.”
Conundrum, riddle, puzzle,
More the fiddle,
More the enigma,
Better sit idle,
And go on twiddling,
“it is simple transformation”
Play a fiddle .
GOD HELPS THOSE WHO HELP OTHERS
During this short period
Of the difference,
Between 6th and the 7th decade,
Changes in your finger movements
Changeth first.
Clicked my images,
Flawless ,no shaking,
Perfectly focused,
64x magnification,
And the image,
Clear with mountains,
Craters, brought live by
your tiny camera.
Witness to your,
Dexterity,
In Spite of your,
Disability.
Tremor to rigidity,
Sluggish to waddling.
The fine movement disorders,
Reflected in,
The short clip,
Tremor you can’t,
Hide…
Any more !
But ,my friend
Still the images ,
Speak volumes of you.
The normal beings can’t
click so perfectly,
with or without shaking.
Click me every day,
“Practice makes perfect,”
You regain your previous glory
Help you maintain your momentum,
This is the boon,
Wish discard soon,
The robe the science,
Unwarrantedly given,
“Slow shuffling gait,
Blank stare,
Pill rolling movement
of fingers,
And Cog-wheel rigidity
spelt the disability,
Of course , Parkinson disease !
Paralysis Agitans.”
Select a script and font,
Matching perfectly your thought,
Page, layout and break,
Copy paste and cut and paste,
Justify and number the pages,
Beautifying the script further.
(As described by Shakespeare
seven stages of a man’s life).
Baby or infant.
School boy or child.
Lover
Soldier.
Justice or judge.
Old man.
Extreme old age, again like a child.
Individualised the stages,
Incorporated the events,
Naturalised the days,
Passed one by one,
Witness to it is the sun.
Passed the days,
Weeks, months,
Years, decades and centuries,
Only for a selected few,
The blue eyed ones of the cue.
Ye, the authors of your lives,
Ye, the dramatist of your lives,
Ye, the directors,
Ye, the actors,
All in one without fear.
Save , view and edit,
Your life’s event after event,
Beginnings and ends
Bizarre are the Scripts ,
Perfectly scripted rest,
Wisely edit,
Ye are the authors
of your lives
Don’t be afraid, to edit
Change the script,
As per your whims.
But the wish of the creator,
To keep your authored
Material incomplete and unfinished ;
One fine morning,
Ye,issing from the stage,
Ye, with a prefixes ‘Late ‘to your names,
Incompletely completed the journey.
Nobody dare add to it,
As scripted by,
Master craftsmen,
And individualized immaculately,
By the Creator.
ONLY VIVACIOUS COMMENTS, PLEASE.
Wholly spirited with holy spirit,
Be it beer or rum,
Be it whiskey or wine,
Or, gin with lime cordial,
Be it brandy or vodka,
Adulterated not, with soda,
Enjoy its holiness gulp neat ..
Days passed,
Weeks rolled,
Months surpassed,
Years somersaulted ,so soon?
Stage reached ,
Missing a meal,
To missing a drink ,
Euphoria to ataxia,
Then to dysphoria.
Control, self control,
They say, is the key.
But,
Eyes on control:
A grievous distraction.
.
Speaketh true,
(The spirit of it)
Evaporates .
As the spirited
Adamant to take,
Any other hue.
Prepare your epitaph,
Give no chance for others
To conduct autopsy
Of your drinking habits,
And dissect stages of the
Drama to melodrama.
Be brave,
Spell your epitaph,
“……….And conclude,
“No tears, dear and near ones,
Mourn not …..
Here lies the one,
Whose spirit needs popping and spraying,
With holy spirit,
The champagne.
Dr. (Major) B. C. Nayak is an Anaesthetist who did his MBBS from MKCG Medical College, Berhampur, Odisha. He is an MD from the Armed Forces Medical College, Pune and an FCCP from the College of Chest Physicians New Delhi. He served in Indian Army for ten years (1975-1985) and had a stint of five years in the Royal Army of Muscat. Since 1993 he is working as the Chief Consultant Anaesthetist, Emergency and Critical Care Medicine at the Indira Gandhi Cooperative Hospital, Cochin.
Two of his e-books “The Silent Panchajanyaa” and “The Apocalypse of Corona”are published by Amazon.
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