"The Unknown Traveler" (অচেনা পথিক) is a poem I originally wrote in Bengali.You can view the Bengali version here.Today the poem is being posted in its English version.
The Unknown Traveler,
On a scorching afternoon of Jaistha's heat, Beneath the tree's shade, I took my seat.Bound for a distant village, though in Hempur I reside, A long and weary journey still stretches far and wide.
A gentle breeze blows softly now and then, Let a few moments pass in this shaded glen.Hoping someone might arrive, I wait in this place, To share a word or two in our own tongue's grace.
Just then, opening my eyes, I saw not far away, An unknown traveler walking slow, coming my way.Who knows what he thought, but he sat by my side, Engaged in a warm tale, in a pleasant tide.
When asked for his home, he smiled and said in reply, Tell me, who lives forever under this worldly sky?You and I shall vanish from this path one day, Tomorrow's travelers will stand here and sing their lay.
His words were heavy, filled with a deep unrest, Who knows what sorrow lay hidden in his breast? What do I really know of life and this world's plan? If only the unknown traveler would guide this man.
Open the doors of your thoughts, O traveler, I pray, Tell me what wisdom serves as provision for the way.
A poor, humble traveler am I, not a learned sage, Yet remember these two words through life's every stage.
Faith in the Creator and love for all creation, Seek in these alone your frame of salvation.If you do not sing the songs of humanity,How can you beg for the Creator’s mercy?
Perform your duties well on life's long road, Never separate honesty from your moral code.Keep the words of faith within the deeds you do, Remembering the Almighty will wash away grief from you.
If you cannot bring good or serve another's need, Do not cause pain by your words or your deed.If you plot against others with a cunning mind, Today or tomorrow, the fruits of it you shall find.
All this beauty of the universe, this nectar and illusion, Is like a mirage's light, a shadow of delusion.At the end of the day, absolute Time will call your name, Know for sure, it will break this worldly web of fame.
Do not hope for salvation just on the virtues you store, Without the Creator’s grace, you will find no shore.In the final hour, tell me, who belongs to whom?The Creator belongs to all, from the cradle to the tomb.
In this manner, the precious moments slipped away, Many words were shared between us travelers that day.Standing up, he asked me, Where lies your nest? I said, "In Hempur, a small cottage where I rest.
As we parted, the unknown traveler said to me, Perhaps on this earth, again we shall never see.Wherever you are, in work or in deep meditation, Keep a secret love for the Creator, your sole salvation.
Copyright: This is a self-written story by [Abbas Ali]. All rights reserved.