The Harrow

Harrow, with which the fields are ploughed, is a symbol of toil. Here the toil is of the paving of fields so that the metaphorical seeds of humanity can be sown. So the harrow is like a messenger, and the field is all creation. When apocalypse comes, the beings will realise their minuteness in this unfathomable world of God. They will then be like a rafter (a flock of turkeys) and the harrow will become a herder.

The Harrow (or The Instrument of God)

On the just road of life
A few people do walk
Few people do survive
But even lesser to talk

These boulders are  too big
These fields are too narrow
How  can I ever pass them?
Asked the troubled harrow

The world has gone astray
Can my wisdom do it good?
The vile gets the game now
While wise gets the worst

And so said The Supreme

The fields may be too narrow
These boulders may be giants
Still go through them harrow
Shine wisdom on these blinds

The harrow spoke

These people know it all
They deem themselves wise
They are empty of wisdom
They are but full of pride

Even if I shine unto them
The riches of my knowledge
What good will it then do
They will make of it a porridge

I am not so wise me God
And I am as blind as a stone
How can I give them eyes
When they have their own

Thereafter Supreme smiled

If so is, then be silent harrow
And let them speak the scorn
Let the shining be the warning
Let the warning be the storm

I will be in silence morrow
And thus will I the day after
Before the upcoming storm
When helter-skelter is rafter

The harrow now closed his eyes
For beings their kingdom done
The barons are all long dead
But the harrows come undone



Once in the kingdom of Avadh, when people would go to the temple for the cure of illness and priests alone were the doctors. There lived a woman named Yamini near the shrine of an Old God in front of the temple of The New God. The priest of the shrine offered mercy, atonement, and absolution from any crime committed in exchange of services for the temple. The woman believed in Old God alone and thought that the New God is naught but a hoax created for the purpose of extortion in the name of false faith. She lived alone with her two boys Ganvendra the elder, and Karmay in her home, when one day illness took upon her and her son, Karmay. The elder son believed in New God and so he took Karmay to the temple not heeding to the words of her mother as she spoke. The woman died two days later while Karmay survived. The boys were in shock, the eldest blamed The Old God for not letting her survive the illness. Ganvendra was of a high status and so with the money he had, he built many temples for The New God.

The king of Avadh had seen the spread of the disease and how all who came at the temple of The New God survived the illness while those who went to the shrine of The Old One died. The king himself believed in The Old and so he decided to go see what wrong were they doing that the Old One was being so unkind to them. One night, in disguise, the king left the castle and hid near a wall in front of the temple. He saw a man crying, running to the shrine of The Old, the man spoke:

Our God, the meaning of whose name the folk hath forgotten
I pray to thee for the wellness of my son. Let him survive.

The man himself had the diseases and the king could see that. Later the same night another woman, diseased with the same illness, came to the temple of The New, where she spoke:

Our Real God, the meaning of whose name hast been redefined
I pray to thee for my wellness. Let me survive.

Three days later both the son of the man who prayed at the shrine of The Old and the woman who prayed at the temple of the New survived and the king kept his faith in The Old as he got the news that the father of the surviving son had died.


Who art thou to part this babe from her mother’s milk
And this poor child, to whom even the bark feels silk
Who art thou to take pride in shattering the many few
Of whom the world is naught but only a window’s view
Pride; horde; crowd; swarm; school; group; troop
All together, liveth, dieth, stitched in the infinite loop
All hopeth to go meet the supreme and leave this circle
Of endless cycles, of utter chaos, endless, never ending

Of all the senses, I am the real one. Of all Them, I am.
Of all Those, I am. Yous must dare not bewilder them with names
Touch me with faith and yous will be touched by The most Divine
Please me, have me enjoy, and yous in turn shall enjoy
Take me to your heart, where lies thy eternal joy
Krsn, Krsn, Krsn until the name becometh the meaning
And a name becometh a meaning and The Meaning becomest The Name.