Religion is made a spade
in the hands which hypnotize
the masses blindfolded, hoping for cures;
Remedies for why, what, when…
The religionist!
The crowd before the sermonizing hands,
The lucky ones looking for
good fate’s another instalment,
And the majority begging their first,
Denied to them till now.
Awe-struck!
Stupefied thus, they squat,
The mighty grip around the tool’s handle
meanwhile rakes up further ritualistic earth,--
The great spadework!
By the hands preaching, hypnotizing the audience,
who cannot see beyond the fence,
Get up when they after the show,
See apostles build up,
answering meaninglessly
the great queries of what, when, why, how…
And more lines get written to theology,
The magic book of all panaceas.
The Pandora box!
Opens with uncountable spectacles,
And the tears of agony, joy, everything,
The chorus now grows further,
Politicians, bureaucrats, corporate…
The expertise! The hypnotizers join
with their ever-elusive tete-a-tete;
Spreads His gospel theatrically,
And the mass stupefaction multiplies.
The great religious band!
A pair of hands symbolizing God’s,
Music in the background by the experts,
And the hypnotized cloud enlarges
from the religious opera house,
Reaches the lone hut, villages,
states, countries and continents,
And finally the farthest universe,
Enlarges it too much,
To infinity!
The hypnotized universe!
Ever multiplying talks about why, what, when…
Stamps from the Pandora box:
Devotional, devout, pious, religious,
After the show, they all come out,
Stamped foreheads, the believers!
Beguiled by the tricks of the gloved hands,
If hypnotized not still,
They bark at him ‘Atheist’,
The one who questions what, when, why…
This unstamped, unorthodox outcaste,
Counters the divine oratory
with sizzling counter-points,
Questions upon answers to what, when, why…
And they neigh in desperation.
Opens the atheist now
the Pandora box of his own,
The box with tricks to
to undo all the great work done,
Another magic book!
But for the negative infinity
by a ‘single god’ over all the godheads,
To dehypnotize the public,
Too great an effort!
But still a small whiff,
Unable to create a storm
of negative winds,
and negative why, what, when…
Devotional winds blow around, meanwhile,
So what do we have now?
The majority hypnotized, blindfolded,
And someone in tantrums,
Arguing testily and
striking as many heads as possible,
To awaken them from the slumber,
Alas! He but is negative more, restless more.
What do we have now?
A dish with spice:
Orthodoxy spiced with unorthodoxy,
Hence tasty, juicy more.
Someone is also sitting somewhere,
His existence too earthly,
The real dweller of the earth!
The agnostic!
Questions or their counters
don’t reach this self-religioner,
So, worry not about what, when, why…
Beyond the confines of luck and destiny,
This conscious, relinquishing soul
has outflown too much from inside,
Vacuum thus created, where
cravings die and magic tricks fail.
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