THE AGHORAS
He saw a band of mendicants roaming in his city, and was intrigued by their attire. They wore even less on their person than he. But they did not look impoverished of mind. They joyously sang a song , thrusting their begging bowls even at the poorest, imploring them to fill their bowls with rice for the day. They had this magical quality of making the poor feel rich. It seemed to the young boy, Abhik, that they had done their lot with ordinary routine life, and had turned to something far greater. Something that he was looking for.
“Who do you sing of?” he asked one of them who appeared to be the leader.
“I sing of the Timeless one,
I sing of the oldest yet the ever young,
I sing of someone, whom you have not met,
and yet, I sing of thee,” answered the mendicant and followed it up with a hysterical laughter.
“Who do you sing of?” he asked one of them who appeared to be the leader.
“I sing of the Timeless one,
I sing of the oldest yet the ever young,
I sing of someone, whom you have not met,
and yet, I sing of thee,” answered the mendicant and followed it up with a hysterical laughter.
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