For to us a Child is born,

To us, a Son is given…

-The Book of Isaiah the Prophet


Part – 1

As the donkey trudged on

On whom a woman sat upon;

The turbaned figure to and fro went,

Seeking for inns till his vigour was spent.

A rich carpenter was he,

He had lots of money, you see.

But no room for him and his bride,

Who now felt labour was by her side.

They saw a manger near

Out of which they could hear,

Cooing and mooing and bleating.

Was God now them cheating.

For, many a month’s awhile,

She had received a message with a smile;

“Born shall be a Child,

Whose doings shall not be mild”.

This Baby was singular

He would in two millennia be popular,

For all He would speak and do

And for His holy death too.

As the virgin with birth pangs was hit

They rushed into the manger to sit.

The carpenter readied his hand

His forehead sweaty and bland.

‘It’ll be over soon dear’

Voiced the tensed carpenter.

He flashed back to the past

And got lost at last.

Said the angel to him:

“Fear not, this is not a dream;

It’s a vision on the stead

And peace until you’ve heard what I’ve said.

“Your wife still does a virgin remain

Understand now her heart’s pain

It is by the Holy Ghost she bears

The Son for whom God cares.

“Jesus His name shall be

And His marvels for the nations to see;

Take thee now the Holy Virgin.”

So saying, he vanished with a din.

Sharp pitched and long came the cry,

Jerking him into reality wry.

The carpenter and obstetrician now,

Had to aid the Saviour somehow.

First came a hand as white as snow;

His lady cried and did bellow.

The hand quick back in went,

Was this for all the end?

A small head popped out

And cleared was all doubt.

A pure pristine form into a black abyss came

To heal the sick and the lame.

The Saviour peacefully did land

Into the beaming carpenter’s steady hand.

And cried, for was He,

A man in every way one could see.

His first gulp of air He made

And cried, I presume, as He bade

Farewell to His Heavenly Father above

Who was in every way Holy and Love.


Part – 2


The cold wind blew dry

As He slept on a bed of rye.

A star was born far beyond,

And soon on the shepherds it dawned.

A mighty light did spring forth in the field

In the dead of midnight the heavens did yield:

A voice of mighty angels in flight.

The shepherds were terrified at the sight.

Angels did sing new songs

Clanging cymbals and gongs.

Through the valleys echoed the music,

Stars and angels mutually enthusiastic.

“A King unto ye is born”

Said one and blew the trump and horn.

“Fear not! Good news I bring, of joy,

Of One swathed in clothes in a manger; a boy.

Follow the star into Bethlehem

To see the King of all men.

Behold Him and be glad,

A glorious King in mortal raiment clad.

Meanwhile in a land foreign and bizarre

In the courts of the hoary and astute Czar,

Grey heads in discomfort turned;

And to know the meaning of the star they all yearned.

“What mean you, that it’s a new star?”

Marvelled the wise men of afar.

Frantically they rummaged amidst the antediluvian scrolls

But found only those which told stories of trolls.

“Eureka” beamed a voice precipitously,

“A King who shall rule piously,

Shall be born in The City of David;

For Him shall arise a new star purely avid.”

Thus began the journey of the magi

Who traversed o’er lands and deep sea.

They would search in nations many

For the marvellous, yet strange epiphany.

The shepherds by then had worshipped and left,

To their flock amidst the mountain cleft.

A new era was now dawning

On the land of pain and yearning.

The little Baby in the manger was laid

The onlookers marvelled and prayed:

‘What could this be that we witness,

Is there more to it, as if this were less?’

The lights in the palace were burned

For from far away the chancellor had returned

‘A hasty news I bear for the King.

Let me through, let me come in’

The magi of the Czar had arrived

Awaiting for a command to strive

For the star had led them only thus far

To find the new King was now their war.

‘Surely His Majesty would know’ they alleged

For what liege ruled without any knowledge

Of a new Heir to his own land?

That would be a foolish reigning hand.

Part – 3

The magi were welcomed with much gala

Into the Kingdom of Bethlehem of Romana.

Wit and culture in a constant furore

The magi for three weeks did endure.

Then bearing no more to wait

They put forth their question straight:

Had the King by any chance heard

Of a New Heir to this ailing world.

Eyebrows shot up in the court of the land

But the rumpus was settled by the rising of the King’s hand.

‘Bring to me the chief Priests and The High Priest

Let’s reason for this stated heist.

For who dares to claim Kingship

While I rule in this hamlet

Summon them quickly at once!

Before I lose my temper and on every life, death pronounce.’

The said people were hastily ushered

To the court where all murmured.

This was a strange yet proven news

For the mystery of the star was revealed to the Jews.

‘Tell us O priests of the god of this land

What say the books and scrolls in your hand?

Of the king that was to be born

And of his trump and his horn?’

The question was startling to many.

The court was in altercations and cacophony

But the high priest lifted his hands high

He recited these words albeit differently, with a sigh.

‘T ‘is true O King, of the birth of a child

Into this world at somewhere near this time.

In Bethlehem of Judea shall He be born

And forever exalted shall be His horn.’

The court and Majesty alike aghast

Stared at the priest and the magi in contrast.

They knew not how to counter the moment

For all they were worried about was the Romans.

What would Pontius say when he got wind

Of the happenings and grave tidings?

Would he raid her ramparts again?

Or unclothe her of her God’s temple chain?

A creased brow, and twitching jaws

On every face wrought an expression of draws.

Head bowed down the priests awaited

For the liege to speak while his anger abated.

‘I wish to be left alone with the magi’

Boomed his shivering voice as in a windy sky

The courtiers and patrons left at once

Each one shivering and sweating to the bones.

‘Oh ye wise men, to my words now pay heed,

Your charge to fulfil is now my need.

I bade thee well into the land of David the Great;

Find the Child who ordains worship from me and the state.

‘But leave me not in the dark left waiting

To see the new born King is my bidding.

Come back to me and show me where in the shade

This opulence of God on this earth is laid.’

Surreptitiously the wise ones from the palace departed,

To search for the One in a manger with clothes cuddled.

Their gifts they secured; of gold and myrrh ever so pure,

Frankincense in abundance that all your sorrows will it cure.

Oblivious they travelled of the liege’s disposition:

For he was shaken and rooted in misconception.

His face wrought with creases, now smirked;

As he thought of the danger that on the Baby lurked.

Death and oblivion were his fate now

As the creases smoothened on the king’s brow.

Nothing would end his rule in his acreage

And not certainly a boy of birth age.

The magi sojourned till they reached

The land of which the prophets preached;

And lo, they found the Baby, rolled

In raiment mortal, as was foretold.

Their gifts they gave in one accord

Brought from the lands across fjords.

Gold, myrrh and frankincense

They gave to the One who came in benevolence.

Scrolls they wrote and wrote them so

Of the birth of the Child whose eyes did glow.

“A great destiny awaits him perhaps;

One that we know nothing of chaps”

As the horizon grew dark and cold,

The magi rested their heads so old.

They shivered, but t’ was not the night

But was a vision that caused them the fright.

For an angel in light and gold arrayed

Said unto them words seemingly frayed:

“Go not the way you afore came,

For their lies danger in that way.”

The next day they worshipped and left

The Child, and from Him were blest.

But departed another way as commanded

By the strange fair man who had descended.

That very night the liege of the land

Was expecting to deal his card hand;

Grave and morose he sat on his bedstead

As he waited for the arrival of the prudent.

His anger flared again as it on him dawned:

The wise men from afar had his fidelity pawned.

The face coloured red and hid brow

Was twisted like the roots of the mangrove.

He snapped his fingers twice

And ordered in his vice:

“Kill! Kill them all! All those young ones;

This price shall they pay for that New Born”

A cry was heard in the street so bizarre

A wail in the city and another in its square.

Women lost their suckling and month aged,

As the sword through the land raged.

Oh the joyous hope of mankind

Would no one ever be able to find?

Was the King dead? The divine suckling;

For death surely has left the land bereaving.

But never did the wisdom in any mind trod,

That it was not for the tetrarch to play God.

The holy One was safe and sound,

And was this very moment to Egypt bound.

The Boy was safe and sure to be benign;

For what can stop a disposition divine,

That never once did man find.

For born now was the Saviour unto mankind.