Son of Sun

By Jwala

They say that ‘Mahabharata’ was the war of righteousness. That it was the war between good and evil. That it was the victory of light over darkness. But for me, I don’t think that Mahabharata was the war of righteousness. It can’t be. No war can be declared as right and valid. Not until innocent souls die during its course and there’s no known war in which innocents did not have to die. A war cannot be justified. This poem of mine perhaps is about the last few moments of the warrior ‘Karna’ but the message it carries is far deeper than the tragic demise of that great soul.

Weary I’m, now let me sleep

The crop I sowed now you shall reap

I fought I fell I’ve endured pain

But my death would not be in vain

My name will live forever in time

For what I did were karma not crime

Weary I’m, now let me sleep.

Now let me sleep for my time is done

My battle’s over and the prize is won

For the victory was not the aim

It was the rest that now I claim

It was the death that I had sought

I’ve bled for it and that I bought

Weary I’m, now let me sleep.

O dear Keshava! O Arjuna the great!

You’ve still not won yet, do not celebrate

With my bow I stand still in your way

Hear my roar I am Radheya,

The breaths are there still in my lungs

The beats are there, in my heart they clung,

So, strike me hard and cut my head

And let this battlefield be my bed

Weary I’m, now let me sleep.

O dear father! O lord Sun

Oh, dear friend! O Suyodhan

I look at you both and I can’t decide

Whom I owe the most where should I abide

But pardon me mate, I have to leave

Now the ship is yours and you have to heave.

Weary I’m and am going to sleep.

O father I’m coming on the chariot of light

The life was dark but the death is bright

But hear my words O beings of Earth

War wins nothing but havoc and dearth

The flames of war spares no one

It burned me too and my father was Sun.

By Jwala