He sat beneath a Banyan tree; absolutely mum,
Closing his eyes to this grim reality, his penance is done.
Up on his feet, he begins his lonely walk home,
It’s been 40 years; this landscape to him is rather unknown.
He notices that every house is clean but roads outside – foul,
No sound of laughter anywhere but on every face – a frown.
They must carry birds in their pockets, for he can hear them tweet,
Mouths never seem to close but no one ever says anything sweet.
They stare into mirrors and make faces that surprise,
Nothing is valuable here but everything has a price.
Inviting temples on every corner but there’s no one inside praying,
Everyone nods and listens but with only the intention of saying.
He decides to turn back, there’s nothing here he needs,
Too much effort is required here in order to buy peace.
Back under the Banyan tree, he sits down to pray,
Maybe in another 40 years, he will try again.