In Chembur, I saw them sitting around
The visiting sage on the ground.
The holy man in a saffron robe
With the people, under the neon strobe.
He was talking about the higher astral plane
Rising beyond emotions of anger, hate and pain,
About nirvana and spirituality,
Transcending reality and mediocrity.
I looked at the listening crowd,
Their heads - not in reverence - but in sleep, bowed.
Pinched faces, patched clothes, tattered lives,
Utter despair dulling their eyes.
At the end of the meeting,
The audience moved to another seating.
Then I saw the corpses invigorated,
As the bulging food packets were distributed.
They filed past, touching the feet of the sage,
With total satisfaction writ on every face.
The wise man turned to me and said, “Do you realize,
It is only the Divinity which keeps these souls alive.”
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