Pradip Chattopadhyay

Veteran Poet - 3,217 Points (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)

Deity


In the drizzle I rushed as usual I was late
The 9oclock bus I had to catch at any rate
If I missed this one I had to think of a ruse
Explain late attendance make a good excuse.

It’s those moments that bring woes to men
Perils linger on the way waiting to happen
Throwing caution to wind as I blindly strode
My feet hit a cobble lying middle on the road.

The sudden pain halted me made me emit a groan
I cursed under my breath the god-forsaken stone
Abused the unseen fate that had thrown it my way
Caused me such suffering conspired to spoil the day.

But there wasn’t much time to vent more my wrath
I kicked it out of way so none else could cross its path
Hurriedly limped along for I couldn’t afford to miss
The 9oclock bus that would reach me to office.

In the bustles of life it was a small incident
Other things occupied me I forgot the event
Till one evening I saw it on a corner of the street
The stone smeared with vermillion away from unwary feet.

The cobble placed under a banyan tree had men gathered around
It lay there in austere dignity they had found it a secured ground
I asked one in the crowd ‘how came here this stone? ’
‘You can call it a miracle it’s there naturally grown’.

‘Now it’s going to stay here none can force it a shift,
It’s God among us in disguise to give our spirit a lift’
In the face of that belief I dared not on his face say
‘So this is your God who I kicked on the other day! ’

One Sunday as I was busy with the off-day’s pressing chore
I heard a din outside urgent knockings on the door
‘It can’t be like this to leave the deity without a roof on his head
Please donate as much as you can a temple is needed to be made’.

Submitted: Thursday, October 17, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 24, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

conceived from a humorous Bengali short story

Comments about this poem (Deity by Pradip Chattopadhyay )

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  • Gold Star - 12,690 Points Valsa George (10/17/2013 11:19:00 PM)

    The pungent satire in this poem is so gripping. The quest after God lying dormant in man often peeks out in the form of superstitious practices. Instead of enthroning God and His goodness in the altar of one's heart, we build up temples, churches and mosques and try to please Him with meaningless ceremonies and rites.. in no way pleasing to God...!
    A wonderful write, Pradip! ! (Report) Reply

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