The Past

On the vast land stained in red,

Countless carcasses lie dead,

Chariots, swords, shields, and bows

In the time's cemetery, spread.

Vultures and crows feast on the slain,

Widows shed teardrops as rain,

In the noise of warfare that echoes,

One can still hear the silence of pain.

The bloodshed has come to an end,

Leaving all enemies and no friend.

Neither the victor nor the defeated,

Worthy enough to morally transcend.

It wasn't the battle for the land,

Or the throne of the kingdom grand.

Revenge is not the same as justice,

In a war where virtues command.

Somewhere in the middle of the field,

Stacked as a bed, arrows bleed.

Silk and velvet disdained as pillow.

To quench the thirst, Ganga revealed.

The grandsire lay dead and yet alive,

Awaiting the dharma to thrive.

Arrows do not prick him as acutely

As the yearning for peace to arrive.

To the triumphants, Krishna said,

“Go, sit next to Bhishma's arrowbed.

Visit him, the best amongst the wise,

Before the sun of Kurus goes dead.”

“He is epitome of the four goals,

Dharm, Arth, Kaam, and Moksh.

Be it weapons divine or vedas holy,

Their power and wisdom- he controls.”

"Seek his blessings for the reign.

The balance of the pain and gain,

The secret of peace and prosperity,

Before he dies, let him explain.”

The king followed the instruction

Like sunflowers aligning with the sun.

The old patriarch was now visited

Every day by his great-grandson.

One day, Yudhisthira went and bowed,

“Pitamah! Tell me the secret code

Of ruling the kingdom so great

And fulfilling the duties bestowed.”

Bhisma said, “Son, listen to me;

On the earth, nothing comes free.

The king must be ready to make

Sacrifices for his subjects' glee.”

He then narrated the origin of state,

How did the king and society relate?

The institution of security and justice,

At length, he went on to elaborate.

“Oh, eldest son of Pandu! Take heed;

If, as a king, you aspire to succeed,

Never shirk your responsibilities

By blaming the unjust past deed.”

“People have changed the past,

Because it was in contrast.

If the past were certainly good,

Why wouldn't they want it to last?”

“Rather, learn from the mistakes,

With each stumble, wisdom takes.

After each failure of the past,

A rise for the progress one makes.”

“Don't interpret this as your victory,

The real Vijaya is still a mystery.

Son! You have conquered this war,

Then why are you yet in misery!”

“The day you win over your mind,

Delusions of the world left behind,

Breaking contraints of thine and mine

Triumph of nirvana you shall find.”

Finally, Bhisma told the brothers,

“For the demerits the man suffers.

Our fortune is created by our merits.

Thus, to our lives, Karma fetters.”

“Karma binds us to the material world,

In a golden cage, like a little bird.

It compels us to born and die,

In a never ending cycle, man whirled.”

“Pray to Krishna to cope with this.

For his refuge provides eternal bliss.

No one can change the destiny,

Except one to whom I submiss.”

Bhisma, having attained his aims,

Began chanting the thousand names.

Knowing it's the appropriate time,

He left in the sun's dimming flames.