Tattooed Hands

Tattooed hands with

Red and dark thoughts

Your soft memories overflow.

Thank you 'The Purple Tree'

Savage Encounter

 His golden harp, she didn’t hide

Nor delayed his breakfast time

Like an ogre he roared, loud and foul

At an err as thin as needle’s eye,

Softly she tip-toed to a towel shelf

Plucked one and placed into his wet hands,

Too lazy to walk few steps for chore

Found pleasure to whip his wife.

Ah! That Indian man!

 Image Courtesy: blogspot.com

A Painful Trip to Rajasthan

It was the first day of my ten-days-long Rajasthan trip with organized-Kesari-tours. My friend ‘V’ and I reached the hotel at Bikaner around 5pm. The first two hours were spent familiarizing with seventeen group members and selecting the best rooms in the hotel. After the initial formalities we gathered at the hotel lobby. Children got busy with indoor games while adults formed smaller groups and chit-chatted amongst themselves.

 We were too excited to just sit in the lounge and let the day go by. Since sight-seeing was scheduled for the next day, we wanted to go out and see something, maybe shop a little. We went to the reception desk and enquired about shopping areas that would be open at that time. There was no transport available so we decided to go for a short walk.

7pm and it was pitch dark outside. Only a ghost would be brave to walk in such darkness. We took a torch and walked outside the gates. A small light was shimmering at a distance. We walked towards the lighted area and discovered that there was a handicraft shop. What a relief!  We entered the store, happy to have found some civilization. There were glittering mirror work on cushion covers and on bed sheets displayed on stands, the small puppets of different expressions hung down the shelves, the stuffed animals formed their colonies, the shiny bangles sparkled under light, there was exhibit of all kinds of hand-crafted articles. Even though we had no intention of buying anything, we could still look and feast our eyes. We chatted with the shop keeper who talked about the culture, food and the tradition of the place. He informed us about the majestic house which was few meters away. We decided to explore it.

With only our torch light to show the path, we walked down the muddy path. Suddenly my foot got caught in an animal trap and I fell on my knees with my one leg dangling down between the iron rods that were laid across the path between the iron gates. I couldn’t get up. My friend bend down next to me and helped me remove my leg from the parallel iron rods but each time I tried to stand up, my feet kept slipping into the gap between the smooth rods. I fell several times. Slowly I stood up and moved towards the dirt road. There was very little pain in my ankle but I am not the type to complain. I dragged my foot and walked towards the hotel.

I ignored the pain and went to have dinner in the dining hall with the rest of the group. Gradually the pain increased, I decided to rub an ointment and wrap my foot with a warm cloth before going to sleep. Cruel pain distracted me. On the next bed, my friend lay fast asleep, probably in her own dream world, must be already exploring the desserts of Rajasthan, enjoying the camel rides for free and stuffing herself with the extra servings of Undhiya and other delicacies. Here I was, tossing and turning, wriggled in pain, didn’t sleep a wink all night.

“Good Morning” said my friend and I groaned. I uncovered my injured foot. It felt like a frozen wood.  It was swollen and blue. I moved my foot to the cold floor and tried to walk up to the bathroom, No co-operation from my stubborn foot, it refused me mobility. I could not walk. With one foot, I hopped back and forth. The world seemed to end for me. ‘Come on, nothing is wrong, you can walk” I said several times, trying to hypnotize my subconscious mind but pain won. I could forget about sight-seeing the city.

My friend stared at me helplessly, with her hands on her waist, she said, “Does it hurt?”

“No, I am fine”, I lied, cussing under my breath. The pain was written all over my face. I am always amused when people ask strange questions.

I didn’t want to spoil my friend’s holiday, I asked her to go ahead with the rest of the group, I just need to rest and wait for pain to subside.

The breakfast and lunch arrived in my room; I took the pain killers and slept all day long. My hotel room seemed like a hospital bed. In the evening, when the troupe returned I was still dozing. Soon my room was flooded with visitors, all strangers whom I had yet to befriend. They had learnt about my pain through my friend and came to keep me company and talked about what I had missed. The group spoke excitedly about the rat temple that they had visited during the day. I could imagine their confusion when they spoke about hundred of rats that had scurried around their feet and their interest in spotting white mice which is believed to bring good luck. Even the lucky people had craving to see the white mice, there is no end to greed.

My friend had picked up post cards from every place that she had visited during the day and she patiently briefed me visually on what I had missed. She brought back the post cards of red-stone-walled Vikram Vilas taken from the front view from Ganga Niwas side, showing the beautiful architecture of the building with artistic windows, balconies and stairways. There were also view cards of Bikaner Fort showing the pictures of front view, back view, courtyard, Gaj Mandir Jharokhas, Chandra Mahal, Anoop Mahal throne, golden swing, etc.

For a brief moment I forgot my pain.

But it returned after the group went back to have dinner and I couldn’t join them. My friend came back after dinner and we had dessert on bed. I took more pain killers and went back to sleep.

On third day, I could limp and walk few steps. There was no wheel chair but the group was very kind to me. They wanted me to come with them, even if it meant just sitting in the bus and enjoying the view. They helped me stagger up to the bus and all day long we toured the city with me seated by the window.

My trip to Bikaner was a flop, a complete flop, or was it? I met some amazing people who never allowed my spirit to dip lower to the point of depression and self-pity. I never complained about my discomfort so they never knew the intensity of my pain. During the rest of the trip to Jaisalmer and Jodhpur, I walked with the help of a stick and enjoyed the camel rides, met Bisnoi people, visited local crafts men, played folk music with the tribes and even shopped at the Jodhpur markets.

On my return, the x-rays showed ligaments tear and the pain lasted for more than a month. A memorable trip indeed!

Tweet, but me no friend, you hear that....

Tweet! Tweet!
“Follow me
For you I tweet
Might rock and roll with you
My outstretched hands,
If you see it thus
Do hi-fi and touch me too”

Tweet! Tweet!
But Nah!
Listen my friend
If never have we met
This greetings is not for you
Tweets are good
For strange pretty birds
Who play the music
Like a flute

Tweet! Tweet!
Oh yeah!
Friendly I was
Once to a distant country man
With a twisted tongue
He tweeted bravely
Knowing it was impossible to meet
Offline

Tweet! Tweet!
Can't be a serious tweeter
Who just tweets
A phrase or two
With a lacy words
“I love you”
Oh! We say so many a times

But this bloke was a weird, old man
Who hung on every tweet I made

Tweet! Tweet!
He surprised me once
Stood outside my door and smiles
“Hey, I am your friend from tweet, tweet world,
To meet you I have travelled thousand miles

Tweet! Tweet!
Closely I looked at him
This shaky older man,
With baldy head and broken teeth
He stretched his frail, shaky hands
And squeezed the life off me

Tweet! Tweet!
Go away!
I can’t be talking to you
You ain't that same tweet-friend
A clever man, I know
His wit swirls me like
Bizarre-world
and transports me to fantasy

Tweet! Tweet!
It's me,
I tell no lies,
You follow me like
 I follow you
You be surprised. Why?
It's me, your friend
Your tweeting pal
May I step into your house?”

Tweet! Tweet!
No sir, er…
Please sir, No
Sorry, you can’t be walking
Into my home
My tweeting world is
A make-believe world
With real world
Don’t coincide.

Tweet! Tweet!
It's really
Just a social club
No real friends
I make online

Move on, go
Back to your own
Virtual zone

Can't chat with you,
Offline

Happy to share with other poets for this Funny Bunny Fridays at Purple Tree house.

It's a Spooky Day!

Boo!
Hope you have a scary day
Biting your nails till they bleed with pain
Or maybe you hide behind a dark thorny blanket
Too scared to face the bright red pumpkin
Sit there still while I go for treats and tricks
And collect the candies from every lane
Dressed in scar face with horn of a devil
And play some games on Halloween day

When night will come, will sit by fireside
All demons and ghoulish friends will come
Their whitish, blackish frilly dresses
Casting their shadows with crooked mane
Their teeth might fall out, but their laughter will be loud
The vampires will play a tuneless game
Once again there will be rain of candies
More tricks and treats for this spooky day!

Watch out
Move over
Boo!

more  Halloween celebrations at The Gooseberry Garden

When Your Friend Turns Foe

Dumbstruck!

I have nothing to say to you

No, my tone is still the same

You heard the silence in my words

But you couldn’t see my pain that night?

No, there was no love from your side

It was just take and take

A fool

This was what I was

For having believed in you again and again

But now I am done

Trust

An ornament of my love

Is now tucked away under my bed

Betrayal

That you sprayed on me

I have combed it out from my hair

Friend

Your love that shone so bright

Blinded me

Or was it oversight?

You used me, no let me correct that again

I allowed you to mold me thus

Even though I knew it naught fine

Wronged

I was for not seeing through

Deceit

Now I scrape it off my fractured mind

Did you laugh behind my back?

I am sure I heard the chuckle of your breath

But now

I am exhausted

Let us forever end this game

You stole my love and now you gloat

Keep him

Maybe it was meant to be

I will watch the journey

While you set me free

Stitch up my sorrows

And happiness togather

Although little I can do

To change the weather

Need to sail away from you

I need to rest in my own brand new shoe

Curled up

I will put clouds over my head

Shut away the pain and not stay

Depressed

Pains much too much

Feeling low

When a dearest friend turns foe

Religious Parade

One long sentence of more than three hundred words (a trial)

I looked at my watch, it was 6pm, it was time to go downstairs to watch the parade, a Ganpati festival procession snaking down my street like it does every year, always the same group of about three hundred people, dressed in colorful traditional clothes, reflecting brilliances that blinds the eye, a big group divided into smaller group, with dancers, drummers, singers, musicians, clearly recognized from their dress, mannerism, gestures and their walk, with drummers leading the procession, beating the drums heavily, with sound so loud that it could be heard up to the tail of the procession, loud sounds that could easily break the ear-drums of the young girls who were dancing behind the drummer group, all dressed in white kurta, white pyjama and bright yellow duppatta,, they danced gracefully, swinging their typical Maharastrian musical instrument lazims, stretching their body higher up, swirling the lazims over their head, then swinging it down towards their bended knees, their feet moving in unison with rhythm synchronized to the beat of the drums, moving so gracefully that not once were they distracted by the groups of senior singers, that followed them behind, singing a totally different tune of hymns in praise of God, nor were they distracted by the moving traffic, on their left that snaked alongside , so mesmerized were they in their own dance, tapping their  feet in prefect rhythm, that they didn’t seem to notice  the crowd that surrounded them on either side of the road, all of them craning their neck to have a glimpse of them, some perched on the small wall, some squatting on the foot path, even the  little children watched excitedly, happily climbing on the car bonnet to get the better view,  higher up some peeped out from their windows, holding on to flimsy curtain exposing just their eyes, everywhere people flashed their cameras, blink by blink, trying to capture the moment of this beautiful procession and I stood enthralled by the side of the road, watching them pass as they walked on to fetch Elephant God to their home..

Soap Bubbles

                                        Image credit: http://charlottesfancy.com/

Bubbles in the air

Your bloated thoughts

Haunt me in my dreams

Boom! Plop! Swish!

They burst

When pricked by reality

See more entries on this picture theme slam week 11 at Bluebell Books

Limiricks

There was once an ugly girl from Bandoop

Who loved to socialize on Facebook

She made strangers her friends

And learnt the latest trends

With red goggles and high-heels, she now dons a new-brand look

************************************************************************************* 

Old men play all kinds of games

Flirt and chat with idle dames

After some hard drink

You see them wink

Bashed up, they limp back home with a sprain

**************************************************************************************** 

 A limerick is a kind of a witty, humorous, or nonsense poem, especially one in five-line anapestic or amphibrachic meter with a strict rhyme scheme (aabba), which is sometimes obscene with humorous intent. They are fun five line nonsense rhymes where the first, second and fifth line rhyme and the third and fourth line rhyme.

The purple tree house is holding limericks this week.

Baby Chronicles -1

Adam and Eve in Paradise

Image Source

With her eyes closed Eve lay

Draped around her innocent heart
The magic of garden soothing her soul
Happy and in a Nirvana poise
She heard the swishing of the winds
The buzzing and whizzing of the bees

She heard the soft footsteps of Adam
As he walked and quietly laid by her side
The smooth skin of apple touched her skin
As Adam playfully rolled over her shin

“Taste it! Feel its sweetness” he said
Knowing in his heart to be a forbidden fruit
“No” said she and crumbled up her nose
Then turned her body to other side

But Adam, obstinate, disobedient lad
Forced his wishes, till she relent
Condemning all humankind pact
Unmindful that the world would end

And so the story, as is told
It was Adam that seduced Eve to crime
Or else they would still be living in paradise.

Other poets who also wrote on this prompt on "Adam and Eve' can be found at 'The Gooseberry Garden'
 

Unbearable Noise

Lok Pal bill

Right or wrong
India in rage
Anna fasts
Flash back
Each one was the victim
To avoid delays,
To get the work done on time
It was important to pay a bribe
Nothing was odd, not a sin
Everyone tumbled
It was the way of life
If you didn’t
You were lagged behind
Window to window
You scraped your feet
With little green money
You could slide with ease
Cut long queues
At government offices
Glide through pyramid of files

Or else, you sat
Digging your nose
Bound by string
On all sides
No justice unfurled
Long years wait
Child become man
Dementia set in

Revolution
Will things change?
Can the legal system be tamed?

We wait and watch
As Anna loses weight
Lok Pal bill gathers dust
While crowd agitates
Children join too
Unaware
They learn new word
Corruption
Restless is the nation
Media offers guides
To be or not to be
Anna’s compliance

Sound is a beautiful illusion
If made of rhythm and words
But if it turns into chaos of discussions
It just another unbearable noise

Rakhee Day

Haiku but kaikoo?
On a special Rakhee day
It's just about love

Mumbai Bomb Blast

A Six Word Story

Javeeri Bazaar. Diamonds scattered. He bleeds

I am a slave

I want to do many things, but the body has its own agenda, if it decides to imprison me under its moods, I feel too weak to protest, I stretch a bit, then motionless, wait for it to break its spell.

Oh dear. I am a slave
slave to my body
who choses what I should do

The day I decide, that I shall not follow the rules, I gather up my wits and force myself, with few steps to freedom, I fall half way down, lie on the cross-road, too weak to arise.

Oh dear. I am a slave

slave to my body
who choses what I should do

Time moves on, one more day wasted, too weak to watch even a sunset.
I wait, I wait.

Total Eclipse

The moon chips off its gentle side
Showing off one of its darkest shade
Pregnant with clouds, the red sky
Blankets the moon, I crane to see
The red cookie behind its tail
Can’t see it naught.

Eclipse on my side of the world
Are only the faint memories of you

Now I think I am a fool

Oh no
I shouldn’t have sung a song today
Not in front of you
Now I think I am a fool

I try to wrap myself
With the skin of you
Warming up each moments
To live the life like you
Now I think I am fool
I cannot walk like you
I cannot talk like you
I cannot circle my arms
Around my lover like you do

Oh no
I cannot do
I shouldn’t have sung a song today
Not in front of you
Now I think I am a fool

I think I saw you laughing
Sharing a joke or two
I think I saw you smirk
When I stole a glance at you
Now I think I am a fool
I know you will pout again
Like you always do
I know you will strum my emotion
But cannot give up on you

Oh no
I shouldn’t have sung a song today
Not in front of you
Now I think I am a fool

The sea

The child within us
lives with us forever and
it rejoices every moment,
be it storm
or a calm sea,
it continues to explore
the vastness of the waves.

God waits for his turn

Early morning
The golden rays filters through the window panes,
Bringing the end to cold wintery nights

She stretches out her hand
To reach for her smart phone
With droopy eyes, hard to focus,
She reads the message that was posted last night.
Smiles back at each message one by one,
Then logs on to share her verse
Tweet, tweet she goes on twitter

Walking towards face-book, renews her status update
Glides through yahoo to check her email
Surfing on chat-page with family and friends
Googles on news to confirm what she just heard.

Morning prayers postponed by many hours,
God waits for his turn and wonders
“Why he gave such intelligence to a man?”

The old farmer is better,
He admires the wild rose by the beach
Plough his land with fresh seeds
And seeks his blessing every hour, all week

Wrote for Thursday Poets Rally

Hesitations

I can’t lead a private life
The wind on this street knows me
It breathes down my neck round the clock
Tip-taps my shoulder and squeals

If I wore the veil today
And disappeared for a while
Swished with worry, would ask around
From every hay, plant and tree

If I moved to distant land
Folded my life around me
Built high wall to conceal myself
The wind would still unfurl me

Its lonely life for known man
His freedom killed and bleeds
Can’t walk with birds like a free man
Or even enjoy some breeze.

Osama

Osama
World rejoice your end
Obama
Skinned you out
Drowned your ego under sea
Your sins floats like scum

*************************
Form - Shadorma:


line one has three syllable
line two has five syllables
line three has three syllables
line four has three syllables
line five has seven syllables
line six has five syllables

How to be a successful poet - NaPoWriMo - day 22

How to be a successful poet?

Write a poem, a topical one
of latest trends and hypes
add one small spaghetti line, and
dress it up with rhyme

Recite in front of popular friend
who in media world is known
ask him to fluff with extra praise
to popularize your phrase and tone

Around the world your poem goes
recited at every poetry slam
There! You are now a famous man
a poet, who is earning quite well!

Betrayal - NaPoWriMo day 20

I still wait
Sun has walked away
Illusion
Haunts again
Your shadows play wicked games
Memories decay

*********************
Form - Shadorma:

line one has three syllable
line two has five syllables
line three has three syllables
line four has three syllables
line five has seven syllables
line six has five syllables

Rice Dishes ~ NaPoWriMo Day 11

Rice Dishes

Everyday he served fried rice
That long grains with spice
We ate under candle light
If he cooked it right
Fragrance was delight
We smacked lips
Bliss!

A new revolution CaPoWriMo- day 7

In fragments they come
from all walks of life,
all tattooed with same message
"If he die, so shall we"

They have waited for too long,
forty two years they say,
life no more a stream of happiness
just stench of corruption

Common man weeps,
not enough room to stretch,
in long queue he waits for justice
that may never come

Elites dine fancy meals
with shady deals dipped in creams
In warm scorching sun,
common man waits for milk and bread

Life is tough;
Anna Hazare understands that,
he will skip meal
for unfolding a clean lokpal bill

Holding the frail support
of stronger hand,
millions more will begin to
stand once again

Nobody wants to be crushed no more,
its time to straighten their back
with proud chin and sparkling dream
learn to walk ahead

Dressed with newer hope
step into a better world

(c) Pushpee

Pain ~ NaPoWriMo - Day 5

Pain
My life long friend
Always deceives me
Wrings my bones

Hungry for attention
Squeezes the life off me

Thoughts pause
I shift my attention
And beg it to leave

Searing pain
Cuts through my nerves
Blocking even my dream

I walk to my bed
Lie rested
To pain, I talk
Some serious talks
To compromise

Merciless pain
Exits
I am free again

Just for a moment
I know
It will return
It’s a bond
That was promised to me

Ah!

Pain
My life long friend
Never leaves me

Cousin Sisters CaPoWriMo2- day 4

The fun of meeting your cousin after a long time is such a treat

“Eight months”, you said. Well it seemed just yesterday, you and I had shared this place, you had liked the ambience then, and you like it even today, your taste is not changed, I am glad. So what will you have? Will you try something new? “Pani Puri, Dahi Puri” you say again. Oh no! Let’s try something new, let’s go to some place anew. There is restaurant opened in my street. They serve cinnamon Spanish buns in that store, you will like it, believe me, it’s a crispy delicacy, or maybe we go to Italian den and try some pastas and Ravioli with exotic sauces and fancy drinks. “Pani Puri, Dahi Puri” you repeat. I relent you win; okay we shall chat over Pani puri dahi puri if that’s what you want it to be.

The fun of meeting your cousin after a long time is such a treat

We talk of things, this and that, you take me to your treasure land, we walk together through your favorite lanes, I see the images of your work place, “See, I have something new,” you say “an idea to keep bored thoughts at bay” I listen as you related some scenes, some laughter, some tears on every feat. Next it’s my turn to relate about me. With undivided attention you follow me, as I take you up and down my virtual world, where nights and days my verses stand. We chitchat long without a clock to see, so many stories over Pani Puri.

The fun of meeting your cousin after a long time is such a treat

The clock tick tocks, we don’t realize, we have gobbled up twenty Pani Puris. Not just that but more food arrives. Tava fried rice, Samosas, Pav Bhajji. The tummy grumbles but cannot give up, fresh drinks more and “hey, listen, Gulab Jamun for me” The waiter walks around us hundred times, each time asking ‘Madam, you want some more?” We chitchat, we eat, we chitchat we eat, not remembering the taste nor quantity, so deep in talks, unmindful of gawks, mesmerized in each other’s company.

The fun of meeting your cousin after a long time is such a treat

Cousins, like sister, are God given friends; they are the pillars of joy, nourishing our souls, add value to our lives as their worth unfolds. Friends in our life may come and go, but cousins are sisters that blend with us as we grow old.

Precious Gold Bangles - Capowrimo2 - day 3

As a part of CaPoWriMo - 2 I write

Precious Gold Bangles

Seventy gold bangles
Glittering in the dark
Fool’s interest robbed their spark
Now sold worthless

  (form -Abhanga: 4 lines with syllable count 6-6-6-4 in addition rhyming scheme a-b-b-c)

Cricket fever - CaPoWriMo2 - day 2

As a part of CaPoWriMo - 2 I write

Cricket Fever

Games begin
World cup waits
Screaming, shouting, rejoicing
Cricketers march with their thumbs up
Palpitating

Abuser

Day one of capowrimo 2

Abuser

Blemished the young mind forever, you
Chopped off the gentle bud off its sweet fragrance
Crushing its soft petals
Before it unfolded its emotions to bloom
Curse be with you!

Abuser
Instilled the fear in innocent child, you
Were the cause of distrust and hate in to her lone life
Every man with passion
Haunted her memories and filled her with shame
Curse be with you!

Abuser
Stuffed with grudge at its core, you
Cannot escape her wrath that is bitter and cold
You shall bleed tears
Lust, once upon a time kindled, shall find no peace
Curse be with you

Abuser
She has learnt about your kind
She will protect her child
Curse be with you.

I can't write for you

I would love to write
In the style
You prefer, and
I know I will achieve
That said glory, but
I am afraid
I will lose my originality
When I stitch
Those pieces of verse, that
Suit your fantasy

Full Moon Night

"Oh! Have you seen the moon today?" Whole world talked about it. It was the hot topic in the media world……And many people were able to capture it too……

But not me.

I was stoned to silence, no images captured, camera betrayed. Just memory remained of big, white, round plate pinned upon dark belly of sky on a full moon night

The Making of my painting in oils..Omar Khayam

Slowly they come to life,
As oils shape their smooth profile
Unfolding features with expressions
On every colored slide
Incomplete yes, they are this day,
Cannot even see their eyes
If flaws you want to change,
you can help me see it, right?
From your angle,
I shall mark with brush,
Re-touching under new light
Together,
We shall see them breathing,
Singing poetry,
Ah! so bright!

Cannot play the subtle music as yet
Nor fill up summer cup of wine
The color strokes play to
Just touch the clothes
The day has just begun
Its divine!

Come, sit under the shade
Of the Banyan tree
Play music just for now,
Feel gentle breeze
Of love and tenderness,
sip from cup some wine.

Bright colors of love
I cannot see
under this grip of wine
Play music for me,
Loud and clear
To awaken my dizzy mind

Soon the light shall fall over me
let me greet the morning sun
fill my cup and play the music
The day has once again begun

Japanese Tsunami

Image source

This is one of those days
When nobody is on ground
A poem gets unsaid,
The verse molds it not
The sun shines hard;
There are no whispers of shade
World moves around
But all cry of pain

Into the crowd I walk,
Looking for known face
Weighed by struggles,
All shudder behind a veil
A pink face I search
But only I can see
A bitter wounds of hurt,
Dark moments to breathe

This was the town,
Once fragrance was the key
Fumes from the kitchen
Had flavors of Sushi
Happy were the emotions
Of every child on the street
Every chat was advanced,
On the net they would tweet

Then one day

Nature stretched to yawn,
The world heard it scream
Frightened, it nudged the earth,
The waters came from sea
The fury was bound
With whorls of tsunami
Imprisoned the whole town,
All victims and families

The horizon is transfixed
With the shades of deepest grey
Gloom rules the alleys
Colors have gone to sleep

Once more
They will crawl
Then walk up on their feet
Dust off shadows of pain
And built a new city
Painted inside out
With coats of fresh dreams

Its just pain

Haven’t seen sunshine

for thousand days,

nor seen the flower bloom

on a twine,

I know not

what late night birds hum

nor drank

a cup of wine.

You know not

about my deepest pain,

await I daily for his smile,

the day he could walk

on his own two feet

will be the day

I could breathe for a while.

What was I thinking????

I was inspired me to write these lines after reading this  http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/SC-rejects-petition-for-mercy-killing-of-Aruna-Shanbaug/articleshow/7644557.cms

How painful it is for people who have to take care of the terminally ill persons, specially if they are loved ones. One person suffer but he is not alone, his own family suffers with him.

I am reminded of my friend who left her steady income of a secured career to take care of her terminally ill parents. It has been ten years now and she has forgotten to live for herself. No social life, no contact with the world, before she is free from taking care of her parents , she will need somebody else to look after her, cause I fear that she will be deep into depression.........by then

Sounds of Music in the air

At the Ekkant retreat above Warasgoan Lake in Lavasa

On a quiet Monday morning
Before the break of dawn
I sit all alone
Surrounded by the voices of the universe

Serenity speaks to me
Behind the lonely hills
Telling me the stories of distant winds
Its power to blow over the green hills
Roughly touching the waters below
Carrying messages
Of calmness and gratitude

Birds sing, unmindful of the rhythm
Chirping away the tunes
Of an unknown song
Nature understands,
Strums the music from its pockets
Of illusion and fills the air.

Mind wanders away
With random thoughts
But the silence distracts it naught
As I close my eyes
I find myself again
In complete harmony with nature
Drinking in the solitude of calmness
That surrounds me

I can hear
just the bleating of my heart,
In and out
The breath walks
From my soul to the sky
and back again
Humming softly
Connecting me
To the power of divinity

I think I exist no more.

PS: blogged on Lavasa trip HERE

Celebration

Now I hear the distant drums
The dance has just begun;
The guests arrive one by one,
With patience all will be done.

There will be laughter rolling in
As celebrations dress during day,
At night when the stars twinkle
They will help my guests to find their way

Water melon

Its summer again.

Chewing on the crunchy, soft pieces of water melon, the water squeezes out from the pulp at every bite flooding the inners of my mouth, a cool, sweet bath for my inner palate and teeth and finally biting on crunchy black seeds savoring the nutty taste..ah the bliss!!

Jaipur Quest

Is there stampede of the verse, have the word'ly quest quietly merged, Hey poets, writers and word'ly men, how goes it at Jaipur lit-fest?

Jaipur litfest

Tourist flock to Jaipurfest, lit-writers find it such a jest, knows not hippie there is tune in a verse, treks up and down, searching for a friend

Vacations

The vacations are there to relieve us from stress
Row down the stream to smoothen out distress
Iron out your worries, its a beautiful world
enjoy the present and write some more verse

He Learnt to Make Paper Bags

He stares listlessly.

Slowly he wipes off the drool with his hand
His body and mind on different wave-length
Blank looks piercing through vacant air
Focused, unfocused, and then focused again
Dips his fingers into glue bowl stand
Carefully attaches the loose paper ends
Steps back, wiping his brow with a rag
Smiles, as he admires colored paper bags

One more job done, skillfully learnt
What next?

Twenty years later, he is an older man
Living in society where nobody cares
No job for him, they trust him not
Ignore his talents and lets him rot
Mother dead, father dead
Sisters, brothers, won’t share their bread
Confused he sits, plays with the glue
Makes paper-bags, then breaks and shreds

He is depressed!

Had somebody cared for him instead
Helped him see the better world
Cloaked in dignity, he too could survive
With little cash if earned with pride
Weakened physique, but could live in jest
Opportunity is what he wanted, my friend
Confidence gained, straight walk would he have
Shake hands too, with white-collared man

Alas! Reality bites!

We continue to live into this cruel world
Where one has to prove he has a clever hand
Life is a struggle, it is difficult to merge
In crowded space, there is no room to stand
Polished world seeks only perfect man
Slow and steady, behind they lag
Trained though with proper skills and airs
It is difficult to convince the world to care

Ah! Ouch!

Differently able is crippled and disabled
‘Common’ man’s curse for a ‘Special’ man

Kite Flying Festival

Image source: Google

oh! oh!
Lotsa kites are flying on google page,
North India might celebrate in style,
Mumbai high-rise considers it a dangerous sport,
Unless in jest, you fly kites