Gurudev
At the end of every wearied day, I see your painting grey, And often wonder what would be If you were here today Would you have been a commoner Just like one of us? Paying loans, stuck on a job, Commuting in a bus Could you escape this endless race – Of survival, its quest? Would you look back and whisper soft That zamindari was the best? Would you have time, to pen Gora, Could you write Kabuliawala? Would Yeats find your Gitanjali, Or Ray, Charulata? Could you even find the melancholy The fuel to your song? In today’s world of broken rules, Would your unrequited love be wrong? Could you remain the brightest star In this neon world of lights? Or would your pen have dried out too In the tiring daily fights I look at you, you do not speak But I think I know it all - Buds bloom too, on cloudy days Bright too are leaves of Fall In every world that you would grace, Awoke in any land, You would leave beh
