The Famine

When famine ravaged the city,

Lord Buddha asked his disciples,

one by one,

“who amongst you would take on the task of feeding the hungry?”

Merchant Ratnakar lowered his head.

With folded hands, he said softly,

“The hunger of this city is enormous.

I have not the resources.”

The Minister rose:

“I would have accepted the Lord’s command if giving my own blood would help.

There are no grains in my pantry.”

The landlord sighed.

“My golden fields are barren. I cannot even pay my taxes.”

Each turned to face another.

Searching for answers.

In that silent chamber,

Upon that city in pain,

Buddha’s warm glance shone on like an evening star.

Then spoke a young woman, an ascetic.

“I will take this on, my Lord,” she said gently.

“Those who cry without grains are my children.

The task of distributing grains to this city is mine.”

The audience froze at her audacity.

“You are a beggar. Why such arrogance?

How can you take this on?

What do you have?”

She bowed and humbly held out her bowl of alms.

“Here – this is what I have.

I have nothing, thus I will get all your blessings without reservation.

I will beg for grains from door to door, and

you will each give me what you have.

If you wish, my bowl will never empty.

I will save the city with the alms you shower upon me.

I will quell the hunger that pains my Lord.”

A Translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s Nagor Lokkhi

By Sramana Mitra

And here it is in the Bengali original …