Know this 'rich' man, a prosperous dealer
A procurer and supplier
Of goods essential and rare
To the people near and dear
And to his villagers in general.
He did his job with a zeal
Genuine not ceremonial,
Putting a penny in every deal
To return with two, excelling
All his counterparts in business
Day by day, his purse did swell
As did his belly with cake so well
Day and night his mind pursued
And intellect worked, where he could
Find his profit tenfold or more.
Day by day grew his shop
In girth and worth this 'rich' man atop
Stood, in his village esteemed
As the wise, pious and famous
Businessman in all praise.
Bought he fields and good gardens
Built a house high and lovely,
A mansion with rubble walls
And furnished well to suit the style
Of elegant men, not of rank and file
But all his care stood about
His shop the money brewing grot
And all his worries wandered round
The slew of servants, hounds
Who wag their tails to munch his fund
Household servants put he in
Locked the gate and kept the key
In his pocket, walked with a fake grin
To his shop, his routine every day
Greeting those he met on the way
Grew he rich as years rolled
And his thirst for money strolled
After pursuits new and pastures fresh
Which put in his hands bags of coin
And in his head accounts of gain
On a rainy day, O ! a dull day to him
He returned home with a grim
And troubled heart and head too hot
Cursing rain and at the gate so stout
He stood as it was firmly closed.
At dead of night when the rain
Was pouring cats and dogs, in vain
He called his servants, at high pitch
To open the gate and let him reach
His home so beautiful and rich
None did come however loud he called
And this poor man, the 'rich' man yelled
Like the midnight owl or a crank,
An old man with the look of a derelict pauper
Who came that way, pertly said,
"O ! Man, why so late and why you keep
Standing outside and peep
At your heavenly house ?
Go in, get yourself cleansed
Of all filth and enjoy the inside wealth".
"The gate is closed, how I could"
Said he "enter home from this mud?".
The old man then smiled and said,
"It's no wonder, a man of your kind
Would forget the key in his pocket"
"I forgot, I forgot, O! me
This key is always with me.
Thank you sir I was in the dark
You have torched the mark
Wherein lies the key for inner joy".
© 2010 Anuj Nair.
All rights reserved.