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