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Mukesh Chhajer
“There is no one better Than the young Prince Vardhaman”
That was a high praise for a boy of eight It did not sit well with one of the devas Who decided to test young prince's mantle At once, he appeared in the form of a poisonous snake To frighten the prince and his playmates While other boys ran to save themselves The prince calmly picked up the snake, by the tail Later, he appeared in the guise of a boy Losing a race, to carry the prince on his back Suddenly to attain a giant's form, only to be floored By the mighty fist of Vardhaman
As a boy, he was well versed in knowledge Even the teacher bowed to his wisdom Such was the perfection Of his understanding of the laws of life
With the bounties of the world at his feet And comforts of the universe, at his finger tips Even in the fullness of his youth The prince remained a mere bystander Obedient son and a loyal brother His thoughts firmly set on a distant goal Without parents' permission though, he could not embark On the path that was destined, so he bid his time In meadows, in quiet contemplations
He sought permission from his distraught brother At the moment of their parents' earthly departure With tear-filled eyes, the brother entreated
