Tauji

 

While the world was lost

                in the frenzied tunes of urban lark,

In the countryside a faint flicker was

                tiptoeing through the dark,

Slowly-slowly the torch

                burnt high and bright,

Dynamic dimensions of its raylets

                woke up the slumberous masses for a fight.

 

Dignified confidence and exalted impulse

                of light went flinging forth,

Historically harassed and exploited millions

                got fresh hopes in south and north,

Lo! The fringe folks arrived

                at the forefront,

As the brightest star of Haryana

                in the sky brightly burnt.

 

Tauji, how high and mighty thou were!

                Still so down to earth and simple!

Corpulent informality thine

                brought always a smiling dimple

On every face tormented by

                a worrying wrinkle.

 

Thy simple soul,

                Always solemnly cuddled into

the paternal throes of composing

lushly-lustrous future

                for each and every one of us,

And when the brightest son of Haryana

                was gone for the eternal sleep,

A scar was created incalculably deep,

                While our helpless sky

fell into a mourning hush.

 

Still, O Tauji!

                Thy steady and unvacillating goodness,

And that persistently pronounced forthrightness

                will always remain with us

to guide us clear of every trouble's crush,

                Thy enlightening sagaciousness,

And the robust bravado of your heart

                will continue to inspire new green

sprouts in land troubled by thirst.

 

How fulsome was your love

                for the common people!

How refreshing was your smile's verve!

                Temper so gracefully proportioned

and enchantingly simple!

                How immensely foreseeable

was character yours!

                Just like a path straight

and an open book of pleasant hours,–

                Without any twists and turns,

O Tauji great!

 

Thy large-hearted liberality

                was simply unbelievable,

Sacrificed the Nation's highest post

                without tiniest trace of grumble,

Now, others follow thy legendary step

                and reap the political fruit,

But alas, hear they not

                the cries of masses mute.

 

Who can forget

                the old-age pension,

Aha, an enormously elaborate

                example of public work!

Gone was crippling old's tension;

                Rhythmically gleaming smiles now lurk.

 

O thou farmers' messiah!

                You tactfully removed

the noose of debt from their neck,

                Gave then a

fatherly pat on the back,

                And they – helplessly hemmed in by

the merciless loops of modern banking –

                found utmost solace

in thy patronage loop,

                Heavily indebted backs with a droop

got straightened with pride,

                Launched thou then

a new tirade against hunger,

                New hopes now linger

in peasants' dry eyes of yore,

Opened as thou a new door

to pride and prosperity.

 

Mystic subtlety and exuberance

                of thy demeanour,

And freely elaborate freedom

                of the 'human' in you,

Reach O subjects at the King's

                threshold at any hour,–

Aha, no officially reprimanding queue!

 

Your legacy burning

                like a lamp

in stillest of silence,

                And thy charisma holding

in spellbinding balance,

                While time's arms

swinging helplessly and silently,

                Grows as the great man's

legend almost exponentially,

                Continue it will to

shine as our path's light,

                And we the sturdy sons

will toil to reach the height

                where you wanted us to reach–

A new, fighting determination

                in heart each;

To get the justice

                for everybody wronged;

A new prosperity in homes

                where it never belonged;

For the youths a fresh start;

                Evolve we'll a new art,

Whereby everything is in

                exquisitely fine-proportioned

parallel to your cause,

                Brethren! Let us prove our gratitude

to the man who brought

                in teary eyes a smiling rose.

 

Long live our

                grand spellbinder's legacy!

God! Let it perpetually

                                                cut the time's fabric mazy!