Poetry

Neither a soldier nor a sailor,
Not either an airman or a godman.
To no outfit of an army he belongs,
Yet to be called a chieftain he longs.
Neither he is wealthy nor a beggar
His command is full of poor hawkers.

Misled you shouldn't be by his barking
On his charge, while the day is breaking.
Torrents of harsh words as also abuses
Flowing from him may tempt you to guess
Of his nature as a cruel and sadist,
Oh no! he is a noble hearted methodist.

Embodiment of Karma Yogi appears
Performing duties with state of the art,
And the barking a part of his tradecraft
For leading a contingent of hawkers
Who fetch you morning news papers
For a pittance for ages and ages.

He reminds me of the Miller of the Dee
Always doing hard work that too with glee.
Herding his naughtyhawkers sternly,
Even while abusing them he is jolly.
Though a treasure he is of common sense,
He is not learned in the worldly sense.

Master craftsman of inter actions,
A luminary knowing all transactions
Of human mind, he is capable to employ
Them for generating untainted joy.
A lot of money he may not posses
His simplicity rules over the riches.

    - - - - - - -Ratnakar  D  Mandlik