Page:Bengali Religious Lyrics, Śākta.pdf/45

Rh Some live in palaces, as I myself would like to do. O Mother, are these fortunate folk your grandfathers, and I no relation at all?

Some wear shawls and comfortable wrappers they have sugar and curds as well as rice.

Some ride in pāalkis while I have the privilege of carrying them.

Mother, through what grain land of yours have I driven my plough?

Prasād says: If I forget you, I endure the burden of grief that burns. Mother, my desire is to become the dust of those Feet that banish fear.

VIII. KĀLĪ'S SERVICE HAS MADE HIM A MENDICANT

No longer shall I call you Mother: countless ills have you sent me, Mother, countless ills are sending. I had home and dear ones, but you have made me a mendicant What worse can you do, O Long-Tressed Goddess?

I must go from door to door, begging my food. Even though the mother dies, does not the child live still? Mother I cry, and yet again, Mother, but you are deaf and blind. While the mother lives, if the child suffers so, what is the use of his mother to him?

Rāmprasād says: Is this a mother's way—being the mother, to be her child's foe? Day and night I muse,

The commonest form of this poem is much briefer, bitterer,though less elaborately sarcastic:

'Well do I know thy kindness, ah! too well! Some go hungry after the day's toil; others carry rice in their belly, gold in their shoulder-cloth. Some ride in pālkis, others take the pālki-poles upon their shoulders. Some wear costly shawls, others rags and tatters.'