his and her story

I was plagued with questions
same old ones putting cliches to shame
meaning of life, purpose of existence
it began with the great philosophers 
I devoured their ideas looking for answers
the rationalists, the empiricists
idealism, existentialism
I turned to religion next 
Vedas, Bhagvad Gita, Bible, Quran
still empty of answers I sought

I sat with priests on the banks of Ganges 
shared meals with scholars of the Middle East
prayed with monks on snow capped mountains of Lhasa 
heated conversations with Christian theologists
even found myself in dens of iniquity
under the influence of mind-bending opiates 
always the same boring questions
and I was yet to find satisfaction

I was forming an opinion 
maybe I was too simple to grasp 
what many have tried to explain 

my travels found me lost once
in the northern part of my country
given shelter for the night by a man 
who made his living day to day-- barely
drinking country liquor into the night
which I was sure would leave an exit wound
and a chicken he stole from his neighbour
I asked him the question;
did he ever think about his purpose in life
after two glasses of the damn fire-water 
he replied, 
"Babuji, the only truth I know is suffering
and the only purpose to lessen it
What philosophy should I believe in 
knowing tomorrow my family may not eat"

I left in the morning finally with the shadow of an answer
until man does not have to worry about food, shelter and clothing
when he is treated equal without prejudice of birth
if there is a God 
His/Her first question will be
"How did you treat your fellow being in this life"

the only philosophy that matters 
lay in the stories of people
who struggle without a day of happiness
it is seeking these stories I wander 
even in places where hope goes to die. 

©Lost