WORK IS WORSHIP

 

 

(For Hindus God Narayan (Vishnu)  is the  Protector. 
Narada was His  close disciple, whose ego He wanted

 to curb once)

 

 

"Óh! Narayan, Narayan,

Om!  Namo Narayan,

My tongue has no words,

To express my feelings."

 

"How much I love thee,

Not a moment 'am free,

From my thoughts of thee,

My Lord, it's true, believe me."

 

"Is there yet any one born,

To claim he was the one,

More devoted to thee,

Than Narada, that's me?"

 

"It's true, Narada, My dear,

Your songs in praise of me I hear,

But sorry I've my own fear,

There's one to my heart very near."

 

His dismay knew no bounds,

His ego pricked like bubbles,

His whole body shivered,

The Lord's words as he heard.

 

"My Lord, how can that be?

Who that fortunate Soul could be?

Let me know at once from thee,

Yes, for me to go and see."

 

The Lord raised his forefinger,

That led to down below a farmer,

Napping outside his small house,

Was the one, the best of His choice.

 

"Narada, if you've any doubt,

To prove My words take this test.

In your hand keep this cup full of oil,

And bring it back to Me sans a spill."

 

"Thrice around the world you should go,

Out of the cup not a drop should over flow.

I should get back the same cup brim full,

As from the start you've taken the fill."

 

Narada did so as was told.

His hands steady on his cup-hold,

His vision sharp on the cup-brim,

Kept his thoughts o'er it deep and firm.

 

"Oh! Narayan, my Master,

I came here faster and faster,

But not a drop of oil spilled,

Here is Thy cup brim filled."

 

"Narada, it isn't as you think all over

You follow close behind the farmer,

To know every hour of his action,

And come to your own conclusion."

 

Up went the farmer before the sunrise,

With a plough and a pair of bulls,

And tilled the soil deep and wide,

Until the sunset took him home tired.

 

After the day's work thus well done,

And the village became quite by then,

He uttered "Narayan" the one word,

And dived deep into his merry dream world.

 

"Oh, Lord, the Protector of the Universe,

It's quite funny how a fellow useless,

With one say "Narayan," of Thy name,

Could be deemed the winner of this game?"

 

"Narada, as you think it isn't a game,

But tell me did you chant my name,

Holding the oil-cup in your hand,

And circled the globes all around?"

 

"My Lord, my vision on the cup was total,

For fear of any drop of oil spill,

Your name was out of my mind,

As I was racing around like the wind."

 

"Narada, the busy farmer of the day,

Uttering my name once didn't he pray?

But time to think of Me wasn't with you,

So long as the oil-cup was with you."

 

"To me the work also is worship,

Besides one's crave for my friendship,

You're one among my best devotees,

No doubt, really believe me please."