“Even a mere blade of grass
offered to me with full devotion
would endear my devotee to me”,
said Krishna.
But what would I do when
scarce is even a blade of grass
worth its name,
anywhere around the ice field
midst glaciers and moraines,
camping as I do here
high up in the snows of mountains?
“Then, simply offer in my name
a chunk of ice plucked from the glacier
or handful of water drawn from its melt
or a pebble or two picked from the
heaps of moraines,
just that”,
I hear Krishna himself read to me
from postscript of Gita.