The Golden Mongoose

In the centre of the city, There's a grand palace they said  An edifice of riches Where the high and mighty tread. Forthwith I hastened to the palace, For there was said to be a feast, And charity of magnitude unseen, Either in the West or in the East. Truly it was an edifice grand, A better one I never saw, Hordes of humans milling around, Singing praises with boundless awe. Smelling my way, I found the kitchen, Causing commotion as I ran loose, For this was a place for humans Not for me, a mere mongoose. As I scurried to the dining hall, Some trembled and bells tolled,  For a weird creature that I was, One half grey, and the other, gold. Finding the remnants, I ran not to eat, But to test the size of magnanimity, I slid down and rolled on the floor, Humans tickled out of curiosity. Alas! After three rolls, I was the same, Bemused humans laughed and trolled, For the weird creature I still was, One half grey, and other, gold. "Laugh as you want," I said, "For you all have seen nothing, You praise this showy spectacle, And I say to you, what a miserly king". "One half gold, and other, grey" They said, "and a talking mongoose at that, He dares to speak ill of the king, Let us drag him to where the king is sat". Soon I was led to the king's court, Where sat a man of dignified presence, Humility in this mien and kindness in his voice, That I have seen in sages of penance.

He continued, "Pray tell me what you want, It is yours to seek and mine to give, If my subjects or I have wronged you, I humbly ask you to forgive.” “Listen, O, king, to my quaint little story, A tale that is queerer than any told, Leading up to the day I became One half grey, and other, gold. Struck with famine, the land was parched, Trees of yore wilted, and crops dried, Those days of feast for carrion-eaters, For, one-by-one, the livestock died. At the edge of the village stood a hut, Holes in the roof and a broken hedge, Bedfellows of utter penury, A family living on the edge. Much less said about the poor family, The couple, their son and daughter-in-law, The famine came not as a bombshell, For the wretched home, it was the final straw. Grinding through life with meagre pickings, Hardly anything going to the hearth, Hunger as grammar and starvation as speech, Their kitchen spokes volumes of dearth. One fine day the man brought home some rice, Which the women cooked with relish, Spices met the pan first time in months Not just any other day, it was one to cherish. The smell of food wafted through the house, Aroma that was long forgotten, Little smiles lightened up the faces, An emotion hitherto held verboten. “Meal is ready,” said the lady, And the leaves were spread on the floor. "Wait a moment,” said the man, “For I hear or footstep at the door.” Indeed, outside the door stood a guest, A man of fine bearing and a divine lustre, The host stood gaping in awe, Speechless, as words he failed to muster.

“I come from far - a place in the North, A land of eternal plenty,” said the guest, “It has been a long day and I am tired, I came looking for food and a place to rest.” "Of course, sir, you are welcome,” said the host, “Pardon my hesitation in welcoming you, It is a humble abode and ours is a frugal meal, A visitor in these parts is a bolt from the blue.” “Here my son will lead you to your wash, Do freshen up and hasten to dine, A meal is ready to be offered to you, A fortune that has fallen into lap mine.” Forthwith the guest returned and sat for food, The old man happily served him his portion The guest made short work of the morsel, And sought more, unmindful of the emotion. The lady beckoned her husband inside, “An honoured guest in our house, It would be a sin if he goes hungry, Serve him my portion, O, charitable spouse.” Forthwith the man hastened to his guest, Happy to serve him a little more, He smiled with delight at satiating hunger, Brimming with cheer as if there was a lot in store. Soon enough the guest would say ‘enough’, One thought as the morsel was quickly finished, He looked up eagerly, asking for more, The eyes speaking of a man famished. “Dear father, deny me not this pleasure,” Said the son, "that guest is God, you have taught. What is mine is yours; so, serve him my share As you did yours, brooking no thought.” Heart heavy, the host went to the guest, “Take more, for you seem deprived of food, It is a blessing that you arrive in time, For us to do today’s mite of good.” Having had a sip of water the guest smiled, With movements swift, his eating resumed, In a matter of minutes, the leaf was clear, With not a trace of food he consumed.

"Am I not of this house, father, to share all?” Piped the daughter-in-law, "In woe and in weal?” “Let our guest partake my share And of husk, I will make us all a meal.” The old man acceded and served his guest, With cloud over his wrinkled brow, Lest the man ask for portions more, for, There was nothing left to could feed a crow. Sated, the guest rose and thanked the family, He washed his hands and feet, and returned. Hunger gone, his glow seemed brighter, For, a human to divinity he had turned. Indeed, he grew not in form but in brightness, Of a thousand suns, the house filled with lustre, A sight never seen, and you wouldn't believe, And words to describe, no poet can muster. “I am not of this stratum,” the being said, “My home is far, in the realm ethereal, You have earned your places there, Through your sacrifice surely surreal.” In a blinding flash, they were gone, There was no trace of the family, All that stood were a few grains of rice, Where the guest had dined happily. On those I slipped and fell, and rose, I was no longer the creature of old, I became what you see of me now, One half grey, and the other, gold. Since then, O king, I have sought, Sacrifices of a similar vein, Many a charity across the land, A better or an equal, but in vain. Know thou, O King, you are a renunciate, Do not consider your charity spurned, But had it matched the poor family’s, From grey to gold, my half would have turned. My tale told, I seek to leave your kingdom, To seek a closure before I am frail and old, Or, depart this world as I am, One half grey, and the other, gold.