Genuine pride in your assets and accomplishments

Is unresented by gods

But when you give the vibes

Of being too big for yourself

They bring down the skies.

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, a renowned poet and writer from Chandigarh, India, shares his mystic poetry

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand, based in Chandigarh, is an Indian poet and scholar credited with 170 plus books of English literature, philosophy and spirituality. He won great Serbian Award Charter of Morava and his name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He was honored with Seneca Award LAUDIS CHARTA by Academy of Arts & Philosophical Sciences, Bari, Italy 2024. He is Founder President of the International Academy of Ethics and conferred Doctor of Philosophy (Honoris Causa) by University of Engineering & Management, (UEM) Jaipur. Email anandjs55@yahoo.com

Biblio-link: https://sites.google.com/view/bibliography-dr-jernal-singh/home    

PRIDE

(In deference to The Old Man and the Sea)

Genuine pride in your assets and accomplishments

Is unresented by gods

But when you give the vibes

Of being too big for yourself

They bring down the skies.

 

The man who had battered a great fish

With his effort

Was attacked by whales

On his way back

And in his pride he told himself

It was his life’s great work.

 

He never thanked his stars

Or even his gods

Rather he saluted his own

Powers of perception

And deception

In finally bringing home the great prize.

 

The body, and his mind, and his muscles

And his smart wisdom,

All conspire to bring in the prize

Which looks immortal

And he pats himself on his back.

For what he has accomplished.

 

Next morning, when full of high hope,

He reaches the shore

Where he had tied the great whale,

He finds nothing but a bony skeleton

All dreams, all wishes, all efforts

All accomplishments finally vanished.

 

I too, who forget the stars,

Will one day being reduced to a bony structure

All flesh, all dreams, all wishes, all passions,

Claimed back by the elements

Leaving behind only a few

Physical remnants of my pride.

***

THE HIGH COMMAND

What I say and what reaches them

Is never at variance

They know a great deal

What I don’t even say

Yet simply feel

 

They give me surprises

I have forgotten a hundred good things

I have done

And I get shocks too,

Which make me remember Him all through.

 

Who remembers what he did,

What he said

Whether it was right

Whether it was good

One might not. Or one should.

 

Life is a lake of minor laws and flaws

Man is error prone, a little is remembered.

A lot, forgotten

Left to the divine machines

To sift the rotten and the unrotten.

 

This is what has justified

What Jack is blessed with and Jill denied.

What they get or don’t get

The dose depends on

What their account shows.

 

You cannot argue here,

Nor least demand

Price is fixed for each brand

And what we get and how much

Its volume is decided by the High Command.

__________________ 

Read: Goodbye To Words – Mystic Poetry from India