An Evening Prayer

At the end of a grace-filled day a grateful heart thanks God who is the source of all blessings.

When the Sun Has Waved Farewell

Now when the sun has waved farewell
And the sunlight is hidden in its shell
And the evening has spread its sheet
To give rest to human hands and feet

I thank you Lord for the grace-filled day
Thank you for leading me in the right way
Thank you for the blessings you kindly sent
Whenever I needed you, you were present

Thank you for duties and jobs well done
Thank you for the words lovingly spoken
Friends and dear ones who held me near
Filled me with new vigour and fresh cheer

Forgive me if I failed to do what was right
Protect me as I lay my head during the night
Give peace to the world give peace to my heart
That I may wake up tomorrow to do my part.

By Xavier Bage, 

Nov 23,  2012 
Posted in Wikinut

Kitt's Silence

You slapped me hard

on my two tender cheeks

with your fattened fingers

without caring to check the facts

I could not defend myself

for you are an adult fully empowered

and I am only a nine year old;

a bony fragment of weak humanity

Your are the Master- in- law of the estate

and I am only an orphan abandoned

waiting to be thrown some pieces of bread

by your conceited merciful hands

I could not reply to your accusations

I could not retaliate; for I am a “dalit”*

 I received the bloodied red lines on my face

No tears flew down my anemic cheeks

I had stiffened my skeleton

turned it hard like a volcanic rock

But my heart cried of the tearing pain

And my tears flowed down to my guts

The gift of your fingers on my cheeks

will disappear in some hours

but the dent on my heart will remain for ever

reminding me of your unjust assault

One day, the little devil of your family

will suffer and make you suffer

for all the acts of injustice on angels

For me, the eternally just Karma will retaliate

Till then, grow in your inequities

Gather the tears and sighs of the innocent

Your jar will be soon filled to its brim

Then, hubris will batter it into thousand pieces.

*dalit= oppressed low class in the Hindu society

By Xavier Bage

Fri,  Oct 2, 2015

The Apocalypse is Now

Three years ago at this time people were talking about the end of the world. Someone said the end would come on the shortest day that year. We all can see the end didn't come as feared. But, those who can read the signs know that the apocalypse is happening now.

We are pushing the Living Ball down the cliff

In December, the world will come to an end
This is the topic of discussion at every bend
Because a well reputed and proven astrologer
Has not found anything beyond 21st December

Protests a little astrologer in me humbly
Nothing of that sort in December I see
Not that day surely, whatever you say
The world is rolling to its nemesis everyday

We are pushing the Earth to its destruction
Those who are strong, with loud jubilation
More than the weaker lot who struggle to live
And look to the haves who don’t like to give

We are pushing the Living Planet with pride
Towards the cliff of abandoned suicide
Who can warn the learned fools, which way
The apocalypse can be any moment any day

Do we need a reputed astrologer to foretell this
It is there in primary text books, can one miss
The world is coming to its end, certain and sure
For the Earth cannot endlessly endure torture.
 

By Xavier Bage, 

26th Nov 2012

The Desert Within

You may be living in an evergreen place or in a crowded city, you could be walking through a waterless and unfriendly desert. You can receive it as an opportunity...

Your Person Will Be Born Anew

Have you ever embraced a desert?
Have you befriended the sand?
Have you ridden a dust storm?
Have your feet kissed the land?

Have you drunk of the dryness?
Have you eaten of the trough?
Have you breathed of the air
Heartless, mirthless and rough?

Piercing brambles and thorns
Waterless comfortless stones
Loneliness and loveless quiet
Soundlessly crack mind bones

Rocks of the desert strengthen
Air of the desert purifies
Stones are food for endurance
Silence of the desert clarifies

The desert is the table where
Truth and wisdom dine
Their abode is somewhere nigh
Source of the river divine

Often your desert is within you
To Sahara you need not go
Live across your desert trusting
Your person will be born anew

 By Xavier Bage, 

25th Feb 2013 |
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

A Peep into Rahul's Mind

Sometimes, I look at my ten-year-old foster son Rahul's face and peep into his mind. In spite of my caring efforts I can't do away with some of his traumas and fears.

In His Hand Leave the Rest

 

My memories grope to sketch
My faraway father’s face
My mother’s shape somewhat
In broken lines I can trace
Once or twice she visited me
I wonder where she must be

I’ve got a “Papa” in the house
He loves me a lot
But I know well like others
My father, he is not
My “Mummy” cares for me tenderly
But she too is a mother given to me

My brothers and sisters really
I can’t say, are mine
The home I live in, is a shelter
Though it’s quite fine
I get what I need - clothes, drink and food
But who am I - I often think and brood

Mummy calls my name with
Melodious loving voice
Papa pulls me to his heart
When he wishes to rejoice
I forget my loneliness for a while
That is the time I laugh and smile

What may be the meanings of
The beaconing stars of hope?
To which anchor can a child’s mind
Fasten his future’s rope?
Like a dry leaf in gale I am blown
Which tree can I call my own?

Rahul, my son, for your future
You need not fret or fear
Accept what Love gives you
Gifts present and near
Life is a package, make of it, the best
In the loving hand of God, leave the rest.

  

By Xavier Bage, 

16th Feb 2013 | Posted in Wikinut

Two Visitors at the Children's Home

As I walked to my room

From the corner of the verandah,

Which I use as my study,

My eyes fell on those two arboreal visitors.

They had entered the house through the back door

And were walking by the bathrooms corridor

“Hey monkeys, out!” I yelled

They turned on their heels

And waited outside like humble beggars.

They looked hungry, their eyes asking for mercy.

I was sorry I yelled at them

I called the house mother and children. 

Mother said, “Ankit, bring some slices of bread.”

The youngest foster son quickly brought them.

Soon the visitors were munching the slices.

I brought out some biscuits and extended to them.

They received them with their hands, gratefully.

My children were having their lunch

Squatting on the verandah

And the two visitors ate their food

 served on the trees backyard.

It was a happy scene.

Ankit asked, “Papa, can I be their friends?”

“Yes son, you can,” I said, “Actually, we should be their friends.”

By Xavier Bage

Thurs, 26 March 2015,

 4:30 p.m.-5:00 p.m.