Think Inside The Box A Poem From India

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 I received the following poem from a friend, a Hindu and who is obviously enlightened (thank you Mr. M) whose accompanying message said "Thought of you Mr Syed".  (Ha ha, thanks again).
The poem is obviously written in India by another enlightened Indian. I thought the words were worth pondering over:
With malice to none, here's a beautiful 
poem that Indians need to read*Think inside the Box*

Let’s put things back
Inside the box
Pull down the shutters
and bring out the locks.

The processions, the garlands,
the loudness , the noise.
The drum rolls, the traffic, the politician’s toys.

That statue of Mary,
the frenzied whipping and blood,
The colourful buntings,
those idols of mud.

The cries of the maulvi
ripping the dawn,
The garbage of crackers
littering the lawn.

The bleating of goats -
a chorus halaal,
The groping of women -
in public they’re maal!

Can we put our religion
firmly back in our home,
It’s becoming quite rabid-
a street dog with foam!

Back in our hearts ,
back in silence, our mind
In the quietest corner
we can possibly find.

Converse with our God,
or our conscience in peace,
Standing or sitting ,
or down on our knees.

Nobody needs to know
what we worship or believe,
The intricate patterns
of devotion we weave.

It’s a private affair
like the party you vote,
The motherly cow,
or the sacrificial goat.

Worship or not,
but keep it within your walls,
Bring out your beads
or dress up your dolls.

Sing softly to the One ,
offer prayers and incense ,
Keep it silent and strong ,
or quiet and intense.

Don’t spill on the streets ,
don’t scream on the speaker,
Don’t hassle the neighbour,
don’t prey on the weaker.

Think for a minute,
could this shoosha be calm
They all will prefer that:
Allah, Jesus and Ram.

Spend a day saying thanks -
let the loudness be spared
He can hear you quite clearly-
not hearing impaired!

Whether saffron or green ,
rainbow or white,
Put it back in the box folks -
and shut the lid tight.

~ Unknown 🙏🙏 
 
My comments :  Well said.

Here is something else. Here are the Beatles singing about Eleanor Rigby and the lonely people. I have reworded some of the lyrics (see below), replacing 'lonely people' with 'holy people'. 
Holy people are indeed extremely very lonely. 
There is an extremely huge emptiness in their lives. 
They need to create their imaginary friends and their imaginary rituals. This is no different than small children creating imaginary friends to keep them company. 
The next step : "My imaginary pet unicorn is better than your imaginary pet unicorn." The next step : They start fighting over their imaginary pet unicorns.
A doctor passes his medical exam only once, then he can perform heart surgeries for ever. A fulfilling life.  
An engineer passes his engineering exam only once, then he can build bridges, buildings and machines for ever. A fulfilling life.  
The holy man has to repeat his rituals again and again and again and again. But he creates nothing. He makes nothing. His rituals are empty. He is extremely lonely.


Here are the Beatles: 


 


Here is my rewording:
Ah look at all the holy people
Ah look at all the holy people
Eleanor Rigby
picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window
Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for?
 
All the holy people
where do they all come from?
All the holy people
Where do they all belong?
 
Father McKenzie
Writing the words to a sermon that he does not fear
No one comes near
Look at him working
Darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care?

All the holy people
where do they all come from?
All the holy people
Where do they all belong?

Ah look at all the holy people
Ah look at all the holy people

Eleanor Rigby
Died in the faith and was buried along with her name
Nobody came 
Father McKenzie
Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked from her grave
No one was saved

All the holy  people
where do they all come from?
All the holy  people
Where do they all belong?

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.
By Syed Akbar Ali 

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