CHRISTIAN NEWS MAGAZINE FOR KERALA MALAYALEE CHRISTIANS FROM INDIA AROUND THE WORLD
DECEMBER 2007 POEM
VOL:6 ISSUE:12

WHY START TOMORROW?
By PROF. DR. ZAC VARGHESE, LONDON

The instruction came out of no where;
It was unexpected as unexpected can be.
A chain email with instructions to send,
No time to waste for blessings will be lost.
I didn’t reach out for the delete button,
It was from a kind and gifted-friend;
Took a printout to read it at leisure;
But the advice, ‘start tomorrow’ hit me.
It hit me badly like a thunderbolt.
It shook me to ask, ‘Why tomorrow?’
Why not now? Not at a later point,
But now, now, before I could blink.
It is in the now I scribble few lines.
It is in the now we live and love.
It is in the now answers are sought,
It is in the now meanings are met.
The email had a story of a grand old lady,
Who planted thousands of daffodil bulbs.
It was the season for daffodils to bloom;
Suddenly, a festival of flowers to enjoy.
This old woman planted daffodil bulbs,
On a hill side, outside her little cottage.
Not one or two, but fifty thousand bulbs
Not on a little plot, but on a five acre site.
When, how, and why she did this?
Such blooming questions abound.
For all such questions people ask,
Daffodils have a gold-plated reply.
The lady was no fool, she knew them all,
Their questions, moods, and mutter.
She had no time for meaningless chatter.
She wrote answers one by one on a plank.
Her answers were “Fifty thousand bulbs,
One at a time, by one woman with
Two hands, two feet and one brain,
And began nineteen fifty-eight.”
What an economy of expression
Of thoughts, purpose, and action!
What a legacy she left behind
For generations to enjoy and emulate!
When blooms light up in their thousands,
To light up the heart of people around.
Spare a thought for a grand old lady,
Who planted the bulbs on a hillside plot.
Well, how did she do this? She planted,
One at a time, with her bare hands.
She had no mechanical extensions,
She extended the hands God gave her.
She was a lady with old world charms.
She found a way to cuddle and coddle
Mother earth’s bosom with gentle strokes.
With petting and plodding she found a way.
She had the skills of a transplant surgeon.
Her bedside manners were perfect to diction.
Her smiles and manners took away the pain.
Her cuts were of a gentle kind and left no scars.
Her hill sides were full of scars from
Man’s hideous and violent acts of greed.
She felt the pain, she asked questions,
Then she found answers in her handiwork.
When the story was told in a graphic way,
Confessions were made of wasted times;
Advices were given in grand eloquence,
Of making amends by ‘starting tomorrow.’
Starting tomorrow is just an excuse;
For tomorrow is devil’s little game.
Tomorrow is not an auspicious time.
Many a dreams are lost in this time.
“This is the day that Lord has made;
We will rejoice and be glad in it.”
This is the day with possibilities,
A time for doing and not postponing.
The season is right for planting
It will flower in its own time.
It is in the now we live and love.
It is in the now we have heavenly bliss.
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