Meera and Mohammed

[Halfwrittenpoem]

In the bustling city of Mathura,
I saw a scene so strange;
stranger than seeing a Mandir
and a Masjid standing arm in arm-
like two brothers
from the same mother.

Outside each respective shrine
sat clusters of men,
being fed at the mercy of God;
by the rich- praying from their sedans
and opportunists swaying from atheism
to religion according to convenience.

Meera and Mohammed- I'd like to call them,
two of the numerous starving youth
wandered in search of food;
Oh! The wrath of fate- they
both reached an abandoned plate
of rice at the same time.

My heart started beating faster,
my brain flooded with queries.
Will they snatch?
Will there be a brawl?
Which hunger stricken youth will
get to eat on the scorching summer afternoon?

No one dared to move;
no one dared to touch the plate.
Both contemplated whether their
God allowed them to eat lunch
with a Kafir; if they were starving
on a scorching summer afternoon.

Reprimanding Meera for considering
something so heinous,
Krishna's aarti in the Mandir commenced,
and the Masjid's azan prompted Mohammed
to leave the comfort of his stomach,
for Allah was calling him for worship.

As Mohammed walked away,
Cathedrals in my heart flattened;
I begged Jesus to save the day.
And he did; for Meera stormed to catch
up with Mohammed, rice plate
in hand- offering to share.

They filled their stomachs, on which
God's mercy I don't know;
then parted without a word.
And I? I learnt that the Mandir and the Masjid-
so different, yet the same, had been built on the
same ground- like two brothers from the same mother.

[Luce]

This is an intriguing, uplifting and exotic poem. However, so much attention is being given to the exotic setting that it's overwhelming the central point of the piece. Cut it more to the bone. Take each stanza and extract what you really need from it. Read it aloud to make sure it's not sounding more like prose than poetry. Make the N more neutral. It will help the youths' actions speak for themselves.

Luce

In the bustling city of Mathura,
I saw a scene so strange;
stranger than seeing a Mandir
and a Masjid standing arm in arm-
like two brothers
from the same mother.

Outside each respective shrine
sat clusters of men,
being fed at the mercy of God;
by the rich- praying from their sedans
and opportunists swaying from atheism
to religion according to convenience.

Meera and Mohammed- I'd like to call them,
two of the numerous starving youth
wandered in search of food;
Oh! The wrath of fate- they
both reached an abandoned plate
of rice at the same time.

My heart started beating faster,
my brain flooded with queries.
Will they snatch?
Will there be a brawl?
Which hunger stricken youth will
get to eat on the scorching summer afternoon?

No one dared to move;
no one dared to touch the plate.
Both contemplated whether their
God allowed them to eat lunch
with a Kafir; if they were starving
on a scorching summer afternoon.

Reprimanding Meera for considering
something so heinous,
Krishna's aarti in the Mandir commenced,
and the Masjid's azan prompted Mohammed
to leave the comfort of his stomach,
for Allah was calling him for worship.

As Mohammed walked away,
Cathedrals in my heart flattened;
I begged Jesus to save the day.
And he did; for Meera stormed to catch
up with Mohammed, rice plate
in hand- offering to share.

They filled their stomachs, on which
God's mercy I don't know;
then parted without a word.
And I? I learnt that the Mandir and the Masjid-
so different, yet the same, had been built on the
same ground- like two brothers from the same mother.[/quote]

[Halfwrittenpoem]

Luce,
Thank you for your ever helpful comments. They are much appreciated.

[cynwulf]

very much enjoyed reading this moral tale,agree with Luce that the exoticism is rather overwhelming the central thrust of the poem, and a more neutral voice would be perhaps be more ecumenically appropriate. A minute nit -kafir rather threw me a bit,do hindus have that concept? Caste seems to bother them more than dogma.
regards, c.

[Halfwrittenpoem]

Cynwulf,
Glad you enjoyed the poem!
Kafir is usually used by Muslims to describe someone who is not Muslim ( follows another faith).
But now it's very commonly used in India by other religions to describe a person who does not follow their religion.