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 The Making Of A Mahatma (A Saga Set Into The Medieval Times) by Hemant Gawande ....well I first went into the wildest part of the kingdom where I witnessed deliberate quarrels, haggles and feuds amid the populace of the serfdom going blatantly out of control and suppressions garnering relentlessly with malice aforethought, & the struggle for survival and liberty from the nasty captivity of the aristocracy. It was the seamy side of life. Oh sorry! 'twas a wrong number for me. So again I stood and marched forward, my eyes looking ahead, my steps well advanced. This time I knocked into the hull of a leviathan. No 'twas a ship, I should say, rowing to the lands of Manhattan. I climbed the stairs and crossed the gazebo hall 'twas an orgy, I discovered when I entered the crystal ball There was a grand soiree, in a lavishly well crafted marquee. And the people busy in hobnob loosing their sentinence, playing lyres & cymbals gaudily without any signs of cognizance. When friends meet hearts warm, when buds bloom bees charm. But I was pale like a white sheet of paper entrapped between the raskills' ongoing smut. I could do nothing but keep my EYES WIDE SHUT! Again 'twas a wrong number for me. First I could not bear the smite, next I could not makeup my mind. So with plethora I fled from the station and sought respite at the house of a recluse who would patiently understand my dilemma and here my impasse ....after all life is a journey and this time it was the sound number for me....
Copyright © 2002 Hemant Gawande, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines |
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