The best kind of phone conversations are the ones in which neither says a word, but you're content because you know the other's there for you.

A friend asked me "Why should anyone be patriotic?",

 and I said "It's because it tells you that you belong...".

"!" is "i" inverted.



So throw the ego upside down, and watch the fun!

The Ungiving Soil

[This poem was published in an anthology of poetry "Celebrating Creativity" released at the Hyderabad Literary Festival 2010, held in December, where I was the youngest participant poet; and I was given a wonderful opportunity to share my poem with highly established poets from across the country. It was well accepted.]

The Ungiving Soil:

                                                                              

Betrayed by her husband,

Who said he’d help her,

She felt all alone in this world,

And was about to give birth to a child.

He felt the pressures of this world,

Loses and undeserving pains of drought and debt

And sent himself to heaven,

Or hell? For leaving her like this.

She was with some friendly neighbours

They tried to comfort her

And the awaited hour approached

A few moments later, a baby’s cry.

A girl! The new mother should have

Been happy, she had a girl like

She had secretly wanted before

And she cried like every new-born’s mother.

But these were tears of sorrow.

The neighbours saw not this,

But took it for the usual, and left before sunset.

She was alone with her baby to admire.

Her sole companion.

Guilt, anger, sadness, love.

She was overwhelmed by emotion

As  she saw her newborn angel

So beautiful, her own, with a new life.

“You don’t need a blanket,

You are wrapped with a sheet

Of sadness, loneliness, and struggle.”

She whispered, as her tired hands

Covered the child with a cloth.

“I can find you a flower, though scarce,

To adorn your neck or hair.

And I can tint your cheeks only with mud”

She said, as she stroked her tenderly.

She gently massaged the calm child’s legs

“Keep them strong to move forward”

And she put her hand against the small one’s

“And be strong, stronger than we were.

“For your legs will be chained by poverty,

And you must drop your dreams

Down an empty well, forget them and

Live on, with the mission to survive.

“Your only friends can be the

Sun and the Moon, but they are

Also eclipsed in the sky,

Though they won’t leave you for long.

“Most are born with the universe

Having plans to give you plenty,

But you my child, with no fault of your own

Seem to owe this world your all.

“’The daughter of a Coward’ you

Will be branded, and if you

Aren’t tough, you may even succumb to

False promises and painful illusions of ease.

“And my hands are rough, for I too have toiled,

Where shall you get any comfort?

The dry land shall merely bruise your knees,

And the plants are rare, rarer their fruits.

“This world isn’t fair, but harsh and cold

It rains everywhere else, in abundance,

But here, it only leaves you fatherless!

What can I alone do for you?

When I have nothing to give?”

She looked at the child now, her eyes were closed

And she was still like the darkness enveloping them.

“Close your eyes to this world,

My beauty, you deserve much more.”

The mother covered the child,

And held her closer. A single tear

Left her, and it was the last thing she

Could give the demanding soil.

The neighbours returned with some

Food for the mother.

But it was clear she needed no more

From this ungiving soil.

To the bloom, We're mere spectators!

I've got to admit, no number of photographs of, as cliched as it sounds, but "Greenery", and it's blooms, is too much!

The fifth photo is of a flower that particularly caught my attention because of how merry it seemed at being upside down!

In the last one, I caught an ant climb up the Staminal Tube of this brilliant Hibiscus and I thought to myself "Wow!" because these ants can smell the tiniest amount of anything which is in their opinion edible or sweet, and that's the entire mechanism for pollination. It isn't a surprise to anyone who knows a tiny bit of Biology, but who's to kill the joy of watching it all unfold off the pages of your textbook?

Words below the Flame

As the yellow flame kissed
The faces of the old couple,
Adding to the warmth,
One smiled and looked down at the candle,
Gifted by the other,
The clay base on which it rest
had engraved:

"If I could choose again,
I'd still choose you"

[Imagined, looking at...]

Whose Will is it?

[written February 2010, and published in the anthology of poems "Poet's Paradise" released at the International Poetry Festival 2010, in December]

Whose Will Is It?

He gave his entire life to it, his love and hours,

But his own eyes saw it fall apart and break.

Tarnished and hurt was his heart,

As he bent over to examine each part.

"How could this happen, What did I ever do,

To deserve a failure like this?"

With tears flowing down his face, he picked

The smallest piece, and gave it a gentle kiss.

"With you I shall rebuild, and prove to the Gods,

That whether they will it or not,

I will taste success, glory and all,

And never will face another such fall!"

He spent all his energy, and twice as long,

With a burning thirst, all to prove he was strong.

With his wounded heart and tools soiled

By a past failure, all day and night he toiled.

With a passion from his heart and soul, every pain he bore.

When he was done, not another like was ever made,

It was near perfect, and would be fawned and famed.

It was a hundred fold better than the last he made.

"Oh Gods! I have done it! I proved you wrong,

I can do it all, I am strong!

We don't need you to decide whether it will happen or not,

Leaving us mortals with uncertainity at every shot!"

The Gods just smiled and whispered to each other,

"You see this one, have you seen another?

When he failed once, it was for him to be inspired

To do better. After all, his success was what we desired!"                        

Seeds in the Fields

[I wrote this February 2010, inspired by a close friend's photographs of lush paddy fields.
The Poem was published in an anthology of poems, titled "Poet's Paradise", officially released at the International Poetry Festival 2010 held  in december.]

Seeds in the Fields:

The seeds were impatient to burst forth,

To show the universe their beauty and value.

But they had to wait patiently,

For God to decide when they

were to recieve their first shower of blessings.

Then they revealed to all.

What they had to show, we all admire.

Their long slender leaves swaying

To the music of the winds,

Like twirling skirts of dancing maidens.

They grew from being delicate and young,

To strong and formidable.

Demanding esteem and care,

As they very well deserve....

Then the time had come for their harvest.

But learn, that their destiny was not just

To help and to give,

But it was also to add beauty to the world,

To inspire, and to change lives...

To define relationships between communities,

To foster and sustain!

What  a strong purpose these 'mere seeds' have,

Oh what responsibilities!

Are we actually anything in comparision to them?

What you imagine, is what it is.

Resonating Minds Mingle

"An idle mind's a devil's workshop", they say. But I'm guessing a working sly one's far more potent.