A New-old Story (2)

It entered the world
Through tunnels of dreams;
From world it tunneled
To the land of dreams,
That none can tell.
One thing’s quite sure:
It jumped onto life
From some place in hell.
How else one explains
The yellow-red stains
On golden-brown fur?
The infernal flames
Dance gaily on stains.
While he sits under sun
On burning stones.
No, he dosesn’t run
To seek the shade
Of walls, temples, chhatris.
For him it’s the sun
For him heat is fun.
As he has just come
From some place in hell.
It’s long past twelve
Still afternoon of June,
No monkeys, nor any dogs
Dare roam around or walk,
Save one infernal being
Who everywhere’s seen.
For none will roam around
On roof tops or ground
Unless they be
Our hero: dog-monkey.
Why he keeps doing so
What do his actions prove?
Where does his mind go?
Why does he not simply lie,
Quietly, and slowly die
Like his contemporaries:
Time and Eternity?

Yes our dog-monkey
Like time;eternity
Is pre-big-bang, it seems.
How else can one explain
His omnipresent name
Coming hidden, thinly veiled?
Was there not such a being
Form changer, strong, revealed
In myths of Egypt, Greece?
Metamorphosis, reincarnation
Bodhisattva, life rotation
He could be any or all:
This so special being.
Stories all by compulsion,
Are set in some location.
So, ours in Kasi begins.
He was before too.
He was afar too.
In many more stories.
But ours is here and now.


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