Of the
Little Salt Prince
Who went to
meet
The Goddess
of the Sea
Have you
been to sea-shore?
Seen Her
flashing pearly white
As She
rides the high
Like a
thousand queens
On a rocky
ramp ?
Have you
heard Her joyous laughter,
Her sweet
lingering music ?
The rhythm
of Her dancing steps
On the
sprawling stretch of sands ?
Ever
wondered how She got it all ?
I guess
'Twas My Little Prince
Who gave it
all to Her.
I'll try to
tell you how.
He was my
serendipity.
No wonder
he was from Serendip, too.
His
laughter rings in me.
His beauty
shines 'fore me.
His purity,
his freshness
Pervades
me, fills me now.
Oh, How
shall I ever tell you of him ?
Heard the
words, God, Atman,
Avatar -
Incarnations,
Partial,
full, half, quarter,
Bits,
pieces and fractions?
He is an
incarnation, no less.
But get me
right,
He is not
one of
The General
Theory.
He is a
persons friendly type
That comes
in Special Theory.
To those
who knew him not,
He was one
among many dead,
But to the
lucky
He is what
I said.
He was
called Ramakrishna.
Not the
Chief, The Old Long Beard,
This one
went before it could grow.
But the
name-sakes were fast friends.
In truth He
was
The boy's
fervent first love.
He gave
himself with all his,
To Him, his
beloved Chief
His arms
stretched in front, toes pulled back,
Fullest
form ever
That
touched the temple floor,
Said it
all, as he lay
In purest
love and trust
His all at
His feet.
He bowed to
His demands.
He bent to
His wilful ways.
The poor,
patient boy prince
Made his
dawn to dawn
By His and
His gang's
Every word
and whisper.
Shame to
the Old Beard
Had He not
come to the boy
As he clung
on to the Waters
Stretching
his ends to the utmost
Sure, with
His thoughts !
Ah ! What
were his thoughts, then ?
A seeker of
Beauty he was.
In Sounds,
in Motion
In shapes
and colours too perhaps,
In Works,
in Thoughts, in All.
He was a
Prince Charming.
It seems
fit that he had
A pretty
Persian lass
Swimming in
his sight.
With her
Malabar man.
A befitting
picture, I think
For his
swan song.
But he left
her to their
Clumsy
childish plays
And floated
far away.
A noble
prince, musing, self-content.
My girl, My
sweet Princess,
Did you
come for him that day ?
You are a
sure stunner,
After you
stunned him,
Did you
pick him up ?
Or, did he
come straight to you,
After that
wave
To the ones
on this side ?
I know what
you did,
You entered
his heart, picked his song,
His light
and his smile.
And since
then have been dancing
In all the
World's shores
On stolen
silks and golds.
So that was
how
My dear
folks
The Sea is
what She is.
But won't
blame you though,
If you
believe not my tale.
Ah, you
were not the lucky one,
But you may
stand by the shores
He must
show up some day.
* * * * *
Was it like
this too ?
He was all
along
A baby of
the Blue Sea.
He was
called after the Blue One, too.
You can see
him at dawn
By the road
besides the Blue,
A charming
tot, trotting along
The little
jolly monk
And gazing
in wonder
At the twig
in his mouth !
Ah, the way
too, bears his name !
Do you hear
his sing-song voice
Quivering with
a baby pitch ?
He pounces
on me
In matey
mock fury.
To stop my
mimicry.
Oh, What
Joy !
We sang, we
swam,
We laughed,
we teased, we sparred,
We sure had
fun, folks !
He was the
Son of the Sea.
He was a
lad now.
He was all
song and dance.
I hear a
beauty note, I tell him.
I see a
magic movement, I rush to him.
He is the
Gypsy Camper
Who
vanishes into the Blue
`Fore I
could tell him of
The silver
screen soap.
The Great
Black Mother
Gathered
Her child back
Into Her
Great Primeval Womb.
Ah, I too
am inside Her folds,
The outer
ones, though,
So I hear
his song,
The living,
~ever, song of
My Sweet
Little Salt Prince.
* * * *
~ preferred
to eternal, meaning the same.
