The Road Sign.

The way I look at myself.

I stand before an old road sign
decrepit with age
know not how to go?
I stop my journey in this slot.
Should I go or should I not?

The wobbling sign board holds me
I pause on the mid road
often, I see myself in such a state
if only I had been street smart
I would have attained perum, pugalum (name and fame)
I retrospect with a mixed feel.

I have covered halfway
stagger now in the midway
simultaneous I have crossed part of my life
would face mishaps in the strife
must strive to steer through.

I deliberate about myself
questions range from my inner self
why was I born?
what am I up to? I query intrusively
what have I achieved? finally.

I look at the road sign once again
stands pitiable and ghastly with posters of amma
braving the harsh winds and scorching sun
appears to me as Buddha
seated under the Bodhi tree
awaiting an enlightenment.

I am moved to recite the Gita
the verses of Lord Krishna in a geetham
I spell out Tirukkural
the two lined verses
in an exalted voice, succinctly terse.

I stare at the sign board intensely
stand there for long deliberately
a visionary it is to me
I turn into a lifeless being
as of the sign board in the doing.