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  Volume 3 - Issue 4
APRIL 2005
 

 
 

KUTTAN THE LAME

A poem by Late N Kasturi, based on a true incident which he witnessed while travelling with Swami in the 1960s


There are dogs who swim and dogs who hunt
And dogs which crouch thro’ snowy peaks;
There are some who yelp a pigmy grunt
And some whose barks are tiny squeaks.

Some guide the blind, some, sledges drag
And some like Leika are shot through space;
There are dogs of whom their masters brag
And long legged ones that race.

But, of all the dogs that wag the tail
The purest, the best, is Kuttan, the Lame.
Of all the dogs that follow the trail
The saintliest one is Kuttan! The same!

No pedigree dog; he was limping, cold,
Wet from the rain, with a cough on his chest
When he came to Bikkati, a pup of gold.
His manners were good, his habits, best.

He served the village as if duty bound
From dusk to dawn, from dawn to dark;
He growled and prowled like a hefty hound;
The village slept to the music of his bark.

Twas April sixty-one, twenty second day,
Bikkatti rose, full happy and gay,
For Baba was coming, He was on the way;
Twas no longer a question of `may’.

The valleys deep in ecstasy did thrill;
The road was sad, it hair pinned so;
‘Sai Raam! Sai Raam’ repeated each hill
as the wayside trees did bend so low.

Believe me, it was Kuttan’s gladdest day!
He ran, he leaped, without reason pranced;
He whined, he wailed, he barked jai
When Baba came, he knew his God; he danced.

His lotus Feet he saw; he took his stance
And fell as humans do, mumbling a hymn;
He smelt those fragrant Feet, O, Lucky Chance!
Baba smiling waved His Hand; and,...called Him?

Soon as Baba left us lonely, we gave to all
The feast that He had touched;
Kuttan’s ear had caught the Call;
He gulped the sacred meal and lurched.

Half blind with tears, he sniffed the air
He reached the Holy Dias and kept
His head on His Footstool there!
He breathed his last!…….the village wept!

We rolled him in the silky sheet
Which Baba’s soles had pressed;
We dug his grave near the sanctified seat
And showered the flowers by Baba blessed.

We are proud of our brother, proud of the way
This Bikkatti Kuttan spent his day.
Dear Kuttan the Lame, he taught us the way
To live and – how to get away.

-Prof N Kasturi

 
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