Lions there were two,
One fine day who,
Found themselves enmeshed, no clue.
One accepted the way it all was,
Without moving a whisker across,
Making apparent his thoughts,
That he had no will,
To oppose what befell.
Fret he did not,
Nor was distraught,
Even if it sometimes seemed sinister.
But the other was a fighter,
Accepted nothing served on his platter,
Without much struggle uproar and clatter.
Incidentally visible both were to each other.
The fighter one day could simply not restrain,
And asked the other with much disdain,
If he did not want to his freedom regain,
Replied the other ‘what is the use of trying in vain?’,
‘And needlessly inviting mental agony, injuries and pain.’
The fighter gaped at the others peculiarity,
And continued his struggle opposing the cruelty.
He pawed the mesh till his claws hurt,
Gnawed furiously until blood he spurt,
Thus continued for days this jungle lore.
One fine day the mesh was lifted, and what more,
The fighter appeared bruised and sore,
Was tired from the struggle but powerful than before.
And now he was silent as though enlightened,
Surpassing his injuries a glow brightened,
The other seemed calm, clinical, serene and unhurt,
Shoved the mesh off and walked his usual gait.
The fighter learnt the virtue of patience in adversity,
Experience this was new to the innocent adversary,
Knew both that freedom one day might be theirs,
But differed in their approach till the roots of their hairs.
Varsha Bais is a scientific staff member currently working in ISRO who loves to travel, cook and marvel at nature.