If I could Pray
Srinivasa Rangaswami
On the puja mat as I sit
my palms joined in prayer
a thousand voices crescendo
to a cluttered orchestra
of shooting notes
in a cacophony of competing claims
that crash out like children
after the long bell:
deafening decibels of desire,
tugs of daily chores
telephone bill to pay, laundry to be collected,
the button to be fixed on the only ironed pant
to wear for office; wisps of wandering thoughts
to the past; the promotion list to be out that day
and many more shredding, the unforming calm
and buffeting me in a tossing sea..…
Do not our Puranas, I wonder, only mean this
when they talk of rakshasa hordes descending
on yagas by rishis in ancient forests,
or wild beasts’ growl or lash of unleashed elements
or celestial nymphs sent down to entice
resolute men in penance:
If I could pray
my prayer would be:
Grant me, O Lord, that
all my thoughts freeze
upon Thy Lotus Feet.