An Ode To Our Stories

Hey little passerby

Would you care for a little story

Of myths and tales and kingdoms gone

Of legends and of glories?

I oft wonder what men were like

In the bygone ages

Were they caring and wise

Or just illusionary sages?

Were we brilliant and just

And carried an honest attire

Or were we broke and thrown to dust

And a preposterous liar?

Did we have in our hearts

Love for one another

Or did we tear apart our worlds

And disrespected our mothers? 

Did we flourish for our deeds

Saddled on horses of kindness

Or did we put our roots to rot

And wore the crown of blindness?

Sometimes I ask my grandma

Why did the Sun God abandon his son

I see her smile get a little smaller

'He loved more of his reputation'

I ask her again if that is why

Draupadi was given away

Not to one but 5 unknown

Brothers not made of clay?

Did Kunti not think twice or even once

What crime she was ordering 

Or did her dismal word of honour count

More than a young woman's suffering?

It seems that we have a lot of lessons

That ought not to be learned from legends

For if they might their swords will strike

And make this verse more wretched. 

We call ourselves, not proudly so

A modern tragedy of individuals

But tell me oh little one on the fence 

Can we not merely alter these rituals?

Can we not bring about the change

That we want to see

Can we not fell the scandalous beliefs

In which this strange society believes?

I will grow old and so shall you

And we will be drawn to a close

But before we leave and dry out our soul

Should the truth not be disclosed?

Should not we stop what seems to be wrong

Should not we calm ill thoughts

Should not we learn to correct our history

Should not we right the wrong?