Bhaskar Roy Barman
As does the Great River
on to the sea and back
to the matted hair of Lord Shiva,
on flows the life-stream
adorned with ornaments,
as is a newly-wed couple.
Following on the footprints of the Great River
that leaves nonchalantly behind
a good many water-drops
evaporating midway through
and mingling with the clouds,
the life-stream does not mind
about as many human drops bowing out,
stripped of their embellishments
they once prided themselves on.
One of the human drops bowing out
was a friend of mine, succumbing
to the excessive love of his wife
and to his in-laws feigning it.
His father, as if to mock his son,
sustained himself much father in the flow
less loved by his wife
by his in-laws the least.
