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While I was scooping up the wealth I secur’d
Through every means open, evil and good,
With haste, frenzy and all the anxiety,
Though it was not life’s absolute necessity,
To taste the utmost of world’s luxury
And to build a fabulous treasury,
Many a man on earth could not have dreamt
Nor anyone would ever make an attempt.
Blood and flesh, nor kith and kin, nothing stood
In my way to the riches, at jet speed
None did dare to come near me, lest not atop.
Did let me, take off, and always feel atop.
Until one day I was posed a question
By whom I thought a heap of superstition,
A humpty dumpty guy, draped in saffron,
Counting rosaries and caring for none:
“Will all the estates you have bought over
Remain yours whence from earth you pass over?�
My speeding pursuit, caught under its spell
Slowed, paused to ponder; at toll of the knell
Have to leave, losing all and my body
Behind, while somebody to grab it gets ready
All I owned ceases to be mine on death;
Because the dead can’t own here an inch of earth.
Futile is one’s efforts to earn more
Than what is needed for this life’s limited score
Henceforth my coffers were opened for charity
Covered by veil of anonymity.
Message of Bhagvat Gita having imbibed
I did not like my name on plaque inscribed.