Theme for Abhyudaya- The Annual Management Fest of IFMR, Chennai.

Abhyudaya-The Sunrise

Like a blazing comet through morbid space
A tragedy hit the mammoth empire
The heirless king lay breathless in bed
Not a cock crowed on the temple spire.

The palace gardens plagued with people
Stared at the throne in disbelief
Lifeless bodies, gruesome visages
Yet to accept tragedy’s grief.

“Mercy O- Heavens!” the empire plead
Shriveled faces, hands raised to the sky
Spare the king, our lord, our father
Was the woeful plea in each tearful eye.

No concoction, no weed, no potion
No leaf, no herb had worked
No mud…no root, no paste,
All medication his body shirked.

The court was mute, the ministers dumb
A blasphemic quiet suffused the limitless empire
No diagnosis cured the raja’s ailment
No prayer there was to make him respire.

Subjects mourned, villages cried
Was there nothing that could save the emperor fair?
Beyond the loss of the valiant monarch
Loomed the absence of a descendent heir.

It was a long night, moonless and gloomy
Of the sound of silence and pervading doubt
It was a sinister night of baleful suspicion
Not a fly knew what the dawn would sprout.

As the horizon turned crimson and the sky grew red
A footstep was heard in the emperor’s porch
The courtesans and doctors glanced at the doorway
They saw a sage and a kid with a flaming torch.

The kid draped in saffron walked up to the bed
Rubbed oil from the torch on the raja’s lips
The sage guarded the kid with a nonchalant smile
As the audience saw him administer the drips.

It was a strange night, a queer one indeed
The kid worked on the ruler amidst the mourning cries
As the first streak of sunlight entered the bedroom
The pale raja weakly fluttered his eyes.

The stupefied audience stared in disbelief
As the royal palace bathed in golden sunlight
The monarch had risen, from his bier
It was a sublime end to a satanic night.

“Your heir resurrects you,” muttered the hermit.
“The dead queen abandoned him a decade since.
He brings this morn into your life
Welcome Abhyudaya, the empire’s new prince.”

“It is the dawn of hope, dawn of light
To the rescue of doubt comes knowledge bright
From the chirping of birds to the smile of meadows
The sunrise rejuvenates every speck in sight.”

Having said this, the saffron hermit disappeared
Even today his last words pervade the empire’s air -
“Be an Abhyudaya of joy in people’s lives
Proliferate vitality, shun despair!”