The sacred earth on which

A sacred thing like life is born

And lived till its end.

If there is any sin

It is to destroy this earth,

Defile its winds, its waters

And to disregard its tiny stakeholders.

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     

PUNYA BHUMI – THE SACRED LAND

There is no meditation like loving

The creation of God

And no sin

Like destroying their habitat.

Civilization installs inhuman structures

Displacing men,

Is accused of destroying

Life on a large scale.

Birds find no place to perch

No tree to build nests

And no place

To hatch their young ones.

The eyes which looked

In an even direction

And even below,

Are now turned a gaze fixed at stars.

Science has directed its operations

To space in quest of godly powers.

Has done so only after

Admitting defeat in regard to men.

Man has mystified our scholars

Zamato and Amazon can supply

Anything on earth

But cannot offer a child on order.

Computer can tell anything

But not the nature of the man

Exactly when

He will be born, and how he will die.

It is the fight between the snake

And the man goose

Both are dangerous

Yet the fight remains inconclusive

It is the Punya Bhumi,

The sacred earth on which

A sacred thing like life is born

And lived till its end.

It belongs to you,

To me, and to everyone

These birds, these small insects,

Who have inherited this land!

If there is any sin

It is to destroy this earth,

Defile its winds, its waters

And to disregard its tiny stakeholders.

***

THE WORRIED AND BUSY GOD

I saw a beautiful woman,

My heart started melting

And flowing,

My mouth gave it words

And a poem came out running.

I saw a place from where

I could draw some money

My legs started moving

My feet didn’t stop,

Stumbling over the blocks on the way.

An action needed to be performed

Some bricks or mortar

To be moved

From one place to the other

Some words, some messages,

And I saw this body

Swinging into action

And doing the errands

Of the mind,

They were in the service of my Being.

I was commanding this body

And I felt thankful

To my eyes, my ears,

My mouth, and my kidneys

Everything that helped me stay in Life.

And I saw the commands

Came from above

As I was thankful to my body

I saw my God pleased and happy

I was doing his bidding.

I realized He smiles when I acted

On his bidding

And he was sad and dismayed

When I did not listen to His wishes

And acted on my own.

My free will He did not resent

But He feared I might hurt myself

And it made Him stay

In the alert mode,

And kept Him worried and busy.

_________________ 

Read: PRIDE – MYSTIC POETRY FROM INDIA

The post Punya Bhumi – The Sacred Land – Mystic Poetry from India first appeared on Sindh Courier.