Born in a Hindu society
Guided by the rites and norms,
He lived till the dusk
And the sands of time bided him farewell.
Now he lies here cold,
Overlaid by the white shawl,
He knows not, the decoration he has
The string that joins his toes,
Last bless of red mark, he owes.
Silent he rises,
With the green bamboo, he dwells.
Carried by his belongings,
Hurried for the voyage long
The holy river is ready for salvation.
Now he lies in the bed of pyre
His feet facing south,
There comes his eldest son
The authorized cremator
Bathed and holy
The farewell has started.
His son circumbulates him
Parroting the eulogy,
He knows not, the grains in his mouth,
He knows not, three lines drawn on him,
Dormant, he lies there ablaze.
“Time for goodbye, my mate
They knows not, you already have rebirth,
A different form of life by reincarnation,
They knows not, it’s your birth date,
Your wishers are mourning today
For the funeral of your birth date”
Arjun Dahal is 20 years old student of physics and mathematics at Tribhuwan University. His interests include physics, mathematics, music, literature and philosophy. This is his first attempt of publishing work in international level.
