“Nev’r saw I, never felt, a calm
so deep!
The river glideth at his own
sweet will ….”
(Composed upon West
Minister Bridge)
– William Wordsworth.
Only I can
change the word ‘his’ for her
As you know we
call the Ganga, our Mother.
From cradle to
crematorium Her lap is our shelter,
Her love is our
ambrosia, her course is the source ;
The source of
our life, and Her ever-lasting flow
Is our holly
path to the Eternal Journey.
She, to us, is The
Milky-way –The Akash Ganga
That leads the
Mortal to The Highest Being
For perpetual
peace and pleasures unending.
But my love for
her is ardent, unconditional.
Dawn arrives
and I do arrive upon the Howrah Bridge,
(For being a coolie
at Howrah station, fortunately)
Only to see, as
far as my vision goes, up and down streams,
Her charms, her beauty, her graceful opulence;
Immortal youth,
ever-rich in her flow full to the brim
In deep
solemnity, for ages infinite she is gliding by
Sweeping
immeasurable hell of refuge of her offspring
Smilingly ever,
as she with dancing wavelets, is smiling now,
Responding to
the loving glance of the morning sun.
I never ask of
her for showing me the path to heaven ;
Rather, let my
ashes of the funeral pile be borne
To the Deep,
where, for ever I’ll sleep, a sleep unbroken.
O Ganga, My mother, with your oblation to the
limitless Sea
I’ll be, for your
solacing caress to my earthly remnants--eternally.
Dulal
bandyopadhya
02/12/2021
Bangalore.
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