ROAD TO FREEDOM

POEM

Road to freedom is

narrow, crater-filled,

broken and shattered.

Road to freedom is

a long-winding path

and each one should have

to march  ahead bare-footed.

Road to freedom, like life

has its ups and downs

and the long march makes

all tired, exhausted and

bruised with blood oozing out.

Road to freedom always

demands will, determination and courage

to face all odds including

seemingly insurmountable obstructions.

Obstructions are the rival soldiers

out to force the freedom fighters

put a halt to their onward march.

But,

the ultimate victory is

that of freedom fighters

since they are determined to enter

Road to Freedom………..            

IN A FIX

SHORT STORY

She came late in the night-alone.

Janet auntie was drowned in deep sleep. Repeated knocks on the door startled her and awoke her.

She switched on the light in the room and the one outside. The fan was revolving with break-neck speed. Frowning, she walked towards the door to unlock it.

‘Who is it knocking the door in the thick of the night?’ – she was asking herself.

‘Tell me who is outside?’

And she never forgot to throw her eyes through  the peeping-hole.

‘It’s me auntie, Smitha’.

Janet auntie had already seen her while eyeing through the peeping-hole.

Smitha was clad in tight blue jeans and glimmering yellow T-shirt. Smitha was carrying a back-pack. Smitha was in a pair of polished black shoes. She was wearing neither ear-rings nor any ornaments around her neck.

Janet auntie was actually flabbergasted. She hurriedly opened the door and with her frowning glance let Smitha in.

‘What the hell have you done? Coming alone from afar. How dare you?’

‘Sorry Auntie……I was not alone. My friend Annie was with me till the last stop and she went to her uncle’s flat at East Fort….’ – Janet auntie’s eyes travelled from top to bottom and smelt something fishy.

‘And you came by?’

‘Train. After getting down at the station, I caught a pre-paid taxi. And here I am now.’ – Smitha gave Janet Auntie a sweet but sly smile. Her lips were red and somewhat swollen.

‘When you started from home?’

Auntie was about to grill her and Smitha could hear her heart beating fast. Her heart-beats were like drum-beats.

‘You could have informed me?’ – Janet Auntie’s voice was sad and complaining.

‘Actually I wanted to play pranks on you. To have a pleasant surprise for you……….’- Smitha thru’ her a mischievous smile. Janet Auntie sensed Smitha was hiding something from her – a secret which Smitha was not willing to divulge.

‘Had your supper?’

‘Yeah Auntie. From the train.’ – Smitha responded in a low tone.

‘No I don’t believe you. Come.’ Change your clothes, wear the nightie and have something’ – Janet auntie compelled her.

Smitha was actually not hungry. She did have a sumptuous feast with Ashwin from the lodge cum hotel. And  Ashwin is very much in the city. He did accompany Smitha upto the front of Janet Auntie’s villa and after dropping her there he returned to the same lodge.

Auntie’s compulsion drove her to have something but with reluctance.

‘You must be too tired. It is 1pm now. Go to sleep. Auntie pointed towards the adjacent room. She helped Smitha unroll a new bed sheet and also provided her with a blanket.

Janet Auntie switched off the light in the room. Smitha too switched off the light in her room.

Janet Auntie lay awake, she couldn’t sleep. How could she sleep? She was thinking about Smitha.

‘Smitha is hiding something from me, no doubt. She is a not a type who can travel all the way from home to this city alone? From her childhood days she never dared to travel alone. Even to the church which was not far away from home. Even while in her school and college days the story was the same. And now she claims she has travelled all the way from her far away home with her friend ‘one’ Annie. Actually who gave her company up to the station, rather up to the front of her villa? Somebody must be there.

No doubt. Let me enquire Joyce without Smitha knowing about it.

Meanwhile Smitha too couldn’t sleep a bit. She was sleeping with Ashwin after making love twice or thrice today. What she was thinking about was about him, Ashwin, the ‘bull’ in the true sense of that term.

‘Whole body is aching. Still feeling tired. His sharp nails pierced her skin here and there drawing pictures of blood and her sensitive body parts bruised, felt a burning sensation. And lips too remain sore and swollen.  Whether Auntie might have noticed it? I fear she is suspicious. Then no doubt all hell would break loose. Ashwin you are responsible for all this. If something untoward happens, you prank? I have dedicated myself to you at the altar of love.’

After convincing herself that Smitha has fallen asleep, in the wee hours of the morning Janet Auntie after slowly opening the door and stepped out, dialed to Joyce keeping her ear glued to the cell phone…..with her hand shivering and heart pounding…………..

GRANDMA’S ADVICE

POEM

Grow up and up, my dear

coconut plant.

Grow taller and taller,

my dear coconut plant.

Bear coconuts aplenty 

in the years to come

thereby impart a meaning

to this meaningless, absurd and nauseating life.

Don’t  be like a barren lady

or a simmering desert

under a burning sun.

PATTERN

POEM

Haven’t you noticed

birds smoothly fly ahead in the sky

keeping order in the early morning

before dawn from their nests?

Haven’t you watched them

flying back to their nests keeping order

just before sunset

like flypast of aircrafts

on Republic days and such other occasions…..

How come men, women and children’s

thoughts always go topsy-turvy  

in the inner skies of their mind

howsoever hard they try

in the humdrum of daily existence?

We will have to learn to

keep a pattern of the movements  of

our thoughts as also our daily chores…..

FESTIVE AND RESTIVE

POEM

Our land ought to be

in festive mood on this Onam day celebrations.

Instead,

we are in a restive mood.

The sparks of dreams, sorry, our

dreams have died down

since our pockets remain empty

thanks to  the callous indifference

of the powers  that be glued to their chairs

in the air-conditioned cabins.

After slogging it out throughout the day

shedding sweat and tears profusely

our employers throw at us peanuts as our remuneration.

With peanuts in our hands,

if and when we approach the vendors

of grocery and the shops

the owners cock-a-snook at us

leaving us high and dry.

While the haves make it a memorable event

we the have-nots remain restless

with our empty stomachs

on the occasion of our harvest festival……

EPHEMERAL LIFE

POEM

Like a turbulent sea

suddenly turning calm

Like a fast running

train blaring horns 

all of a sudden and

held upon the tracks

causing the precarious bogies about

to run off the tracks.

Like a bird flying in

the sky flapping wings

effortlessly all of a

sudden gets stuck in the sky.

Like burning tubes

getting fused

within split seconds after installing

on the walls 

each man’s/woman’s

breaths coming

to an abrupt  stop

life on earth is

always ephemeral

like an unknown force

blowing out a flame mercilessly, untimely….

BLACK HUMOUR

POEM

Fed up, tired and exhausted

on listening to

the oft-repeated chantings of global warming

turning the Earth into

an unlivable, accursed, unaccustomed

planet in the not too distant future.

Fed up, tired and exhausted

on hearing the talks

and breast-beatings of

green house gas emissions

tearing apart the ozone layer  on a

day to day basis.

Fed up, tired and exhausted on listening

to the ear-splitting disputes, discussions, debates

 and deliberations going on among the so-called

intellectuals and political leaders of various

nations that too on a regular

basis since everything

evolving into much sound and fury signifying nothing.

Fed up, tired and exhausted on

throwing mud against one nation to the other

squarely putting blame on each other

as to the real culprits involved

in sky-rocketing levels of

green house gas emissions

portending the death knell of Earth.

Between Kyoto Summit, Japan 1997

and Paris 2015 is a long distance

but nothing substantial

or fruitful has emerged so far

prompting the Earth to

take a plunge from the Suicide Point…..

EVERYDAY SPECTACLES

POEM

On the eve of the protest day

the leaders addressed their followers

and exhorted them to vent their anger

and frustration towards the authorities

and demand the reddressal

of their long standing

just causes at the earliest

otherwise face the consequences

in the ensuing days.

The loyal followers who got ‘inebriated’

by the fire-spitting speeches of

their fire-brand leaders

took a vow then and there

raised the slogans to the very top of their voices

throwing fists into the air

and shouted slogans against

those in the corridors of power.

Very next day they gathered

under one umbrella

and as a prelude to the strike

demanded the authorities

to find immediate solution

to their genuine demands.

They marched ahead braving

lathis, grenades, water-canons,

tear gas shells defying probibitory  orders

unafraid of lathi-charges,

tear gas shells, water canons and grenades

freely, lavishly employed by the law-enforcers

resulting in injuries, serious injuries to many

like broken heads and limbs bleeding profusely

lay scattered, shattered on the roads with

with others rushing in to take the injured

to the hospital followed by leaders

who appeared from nowhere

and crossed ‘swords’ with the law-enforcers

in invited anger and righteous indignation

and warned the latter of dire consequences

in the coming days and veiled threats to those entrenched

reclining comfortably in their cushioned seats

in the air-conditioned cabins.

Grievances and demands

but remained unresolved and unresolved

they remain…..  

TALE OF A DECEPTION

POEM

She was in a desperate hurry

to unbundle her pack of woes

to an invincible power

with magical solutions

and

as a first step in the

right direction

she visited several temples

where Gods and Godesses

were worshipped and along 

with the large numbers of pilgrims

offered oblations to them

and prayed fervently for the

dawn of a new spring in her life.

But she never hated

the man with whom she had

inexplicable emotional attachment and affinity

dreamt of sharing her delightful life with him.

Though she frequented temples after temples

offered prayers after prayers

oblations after oblations

her fervent pleas to Gods and Goddesses went unheeded.

It was her close friend

who told her about a

God-man who performed miracles

in the lives of countless numbers of 

men, women, children, ladies and youths

who as a last resort flocked to have a darshan

of Him to bless them with  magical powers

to ward off all evils, incurable maladies,

recapture failed love-affairs

and blessings to bear pretty blooms of

love and care in everybody’s life.

Keeping her hopes aflame she went to his ashram

several times where tens of hundreds

gathered to have a darshan of Him

seeking his invaluable blessings for a better morrow.

At last after an array of visits

she too had the fortune to have a darshan

of the handsome, young Godman

with long black hair,

and flowing black beard with a halo around his head.

His bewitching smile

and sharp, penetrating

looks lifted her to an unknown world

and in front of him

she sat cross-legged.

She poured out her list of grievances needling her

which he listened looking into her eyes. 

After listening to all her woes,

He led her inside

and made her sit on a bed,

and someone from inside

brought a glass full of

juice, offered her and vanished.

‘This is elixir of miracles.

Have it’  -  He told her.

Like an obedient child

she drank the sweet ‘elixir’

and within seconds she

lost her last drop of consciousness.

After a deep sleep

she regained her consciousness

and felt her body seriously

aching and burning sensation

in her private parts.

The needling pain she

experienced in various parts of her body

was difficult to explain……

The story of a rape

unfolded before her

and with shock and fright in her eyes

she wanted to cry aloud,

but no……she couldn’t………….

THE TERRACE

POEM

Until the afternoon

Sun was in his ‘true colours’

spreading warm light across the land.

In came the evening slowly, gradually

and along with it to my

embarrassment and sadness

dark clouds started weaving

a blanket in the sky

hiding the sun from my eyes.

Darkness spread across the land

and the evening looked like

the approach of night

untimely approach of night.

Along with it frequent

golden lines of  lightning appeared in

the sky followed by thundershowers

reminding me of ear-splitting explosions

in the battle-fields.

My dream of evening walk

along the terrace

got dimmer and dimmer

and closing the doors

I started walking to and fro

in the hall of my residence

with gloom in my eyes.

Thru the windows I could

see the golden lines of

lightning appearing

and disappearing in split-seconds

and the unrelenting thunder showers

often forcing me  to shut my ears with my palms

to escape from the

spell-binding explosions

piercing my tympanic membranes.

What all I missed

were the  beautiful

landscapes around me near and afar

as also the flats, the pedestrians

and vehicles flowing down the road.

Awaiting to enjoy the

verdant landscapes,

pedestrians and vehicles near and afar next day

went down to my private room, my private world. 

GREAT EXPECTATIONS

POEM

Great expectations are okay

but never expect the plants of all expectations would

fructify and bless us with sweet fruits.

There’s no use in

behaving like petulant children crying aloud.

Great expectations are good signals

but don’t expect such expectations would

display positive signals.

Exceptions are/were always  the kingmakers

be it on yesterday, today and tomorrow

since exceptions always reign supreme

it is the law of the nature.

 Ever heard about exceptions

going  awry plunging you into the very depth

of frustration, pain and despair?

Expectations are always expectations

and exceptions always exceptions.  

MUMBAI’S NEARLY DILAPIDATED MULTI-STORYED BUILDINGS

POEM

One of the perennial problems Mumbai, the financial capital of our nation faces is the nearly dilapidated, multi-storied buildings which are about to collapse like a pack of cards at any time especially with the onset of monsoon accompanied by storms. These buildings date back to more than one or two centuries.
A number of Mumbai citizens who have no way out occupy these buildings are aware of the dangers lurking behind, seek refuge in these buildings.
Each year nearly ten such multi-storied buildings fall down killing numerous innocent citizens who consist besides Maharashtrians, migrants from different parts of the country seeking jobs to earn a living. Besides those who lose lives, countless are maimed for life who pull on their lives begging others who throw peanuts to their stretched hands. Life as far as the occupants of these buildings across the suburbs are like living in hell. Those who commute by trains, buses, taxis and other vehicles can very well watch these buildings and those poor people living in them and can ponder over their plight and heave deep sighs.
Naturally an average citizen’s ire is pointed towards the governments led by various parties and its allies. The authorities  don’t have  an iota of regret or remorse left for the people who spend their lives in such buildings resigned to their fate. One might be forced to call it destiny and nothing else. Most politicians in Maharashtra are concerned with the pleasing the corporate lobby and are at the latters’ feet always in addition to pocket money amounting to crores through corrupt practices by hook or crook.
They always derive sadistic pleasure or develop indifference on watching the sufferings or hardships of the have-nots.
When a nearly dilapidated building collapses and a number of occupants die the authorities in their typical style express shock and shed crocodile tears and assure compensation to the kith and kin of those who lose their lives and the those who are maimed or injured but rarely such assurances never materialize. After all of what use in case they keep their assurances after valuable lives are lost or a number of occupants are disabled for life.
The cardinal step should have been initiating measures to prevent such tragedies well in advance and for that if need be demolish such buildings after rehabilitating the occupants to safer places for which the government  should bear the entire expenditure whatsoever  huge it might be. And they should not forget to bring to justice the owners of such buildings who were bound to initiate the preventive measures. There are many so-called present day owners who are building multi-storied buildings without required licences encroaching govt’s lands bribing the officials. These buildings are built in such haphazard ways that such buildings would crash down any time, any moment. These are the stories of present day structures, not the centuries old buildings about to crumble down most of them when the climate is adverse.
Mumbaites, I mean here the poor and lower middle class people are always living on the edge……As I have already mentioned it is nothing but destiny………   

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM

POEM

Down the flotsam and jetsam of the city 

on a fiery sunny day

wandering along the

streets of the cosmopolitan city  

I was praying earnestly

for a secluded, serene, calm and tranquil corner

of the city which is ‘far from the madding crowd’

where silence, peace, coolness reigned supreme

in order to release the red hot lava

flowing down the volcano of my fretting and fuming mind

since more than an hour.

To my surprise and embarrassment

some unseen force led me to this Hall of Silence
to the music of silence.

In the pin drop silence

where almost hundred

people had assembled and meditated 

I too joined them and took my seat in one 

of the concrete chairs and started meditating.

How long I sat there, no idea 

But I experienced the comfort of peace,

tranquility and serenity.

From that day onwards

I ensured that I should be there

whenever I get an

opportunity to be there seeking an outlet

from the rough and tumble of the city………  

PRIVACY

POEM

‘Please don’t peep

into my private world

where I share  secret moments 

with my better-half.

And for that matter

please don’t throw your glances

through the peep-hole

into anybody’s privacy.

Privacy to me and you,

all and sundry

is something precious like

an exorbitant, exquisite jewel or something

priceless or invaluable.

Hence think about your

attitude towards an intruder

if and when he/she

espies your private moments with somebody 

or your secret talks being conveyed

thru’ your cell phone or land phone.

Will you digest such

ugly acts , such distressing or disgusting acts?

OUR VARYING THOUGHTS

POEM

Whenever we think

about moon and stars,

brightness spreads in

the unseen  recesses of our minds.

Whenever we think about nights 

naturally a black ribbon

blindfolds us forcing us to grope

in the darkness.

Whenever we mull day time

the sun rises  in the eastern horizon  of our mind.

Whenever the thought of

colours emerges before us

a garden full of

variety of beautiful blooms and their

fragrances caress and

embrace us thereby intoxicating

each and everyone.

Whenever we think about water

flowing streams, rivers, calm or violent seas
or oceans , ponds or lakes

appear  before our eyes.

The puzzle of infinity tightly holds our breaths.

And whenever the

philosophical question of identity crisis

stares at us in this city of mammoth crowds

ear-splitting noises

march before our eyes and pushes into

a world of existential dilemma and agony……        

TURKEY CONTINUES TO FIGHT BOTH ISLAMIC STATE AND KURDISH WORKERS PARTY

ARTICLE

Recip Tayyip Erdogan, the Turkish Prime Minister is a determined man today. Though the Islamic country was keeping a low profile until three weeks back in spite of US pleas to Turkey, it was keeping low profile. The sudden urge to pound both Islamic State, the hard core militant outfit and Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) was prompted by the killing of 30   Turkish citizens by the Islamic State (IS) militants. An enraged Turkish forces are pounding both the IS and PKK, the latter according to Turkey too are terrorists despite the frequent appeals by US to desist from attacking the followers of PKK is not in a mood to stop attacking them. Besides targeting IS militants and PKK (Kurdish Workers Party) Turkey has allowed US two bases in its soil to launch offensive against the terrorists.  From the day one since it started aiming IS and PKK, Turkey continues its war since it began striking the terrorists with the sole purpose of crushing the militants once and for all.

But the IS without ‘beating a retreat’ has sharpened  and expanded its operations with much more vigour and strength in spite of  suffering heavy losses of its loyalists who too were determined to take on the enemy countries inflicting widespread losses of life of innocent citizens. In other words resistance is feeding them with strength and more power.

NATO Secretary General and former Swedish Prime Minister Jens Stoltenberg has called for a meeting of 28 NATO nations of which Turkey is also a member to chalk out future course of action which means Islamic State is poised to come under heavy bombardments in the coming days.

Accodring to IS expert Jessica Stern, mere bombardments are not sufficient to tackle IS forces. A number of educated youth from various nations, many of them holding high profile jobs are quitting their posts and flowing to join IS getting enarmoured by the ‘ideals’ of Islamic State thru social networking sites to fight against the enemies of the IS even by sacrificing their lives. They are provided with funds, free food and free accommodation. In order not to be taken aback by the loss of lives of many IS fighters women too volunteer to join IS and to compensate the decreasing number of fighters these women share beds with a lot of fighters and reproduce more and more children all for the cause of Islamic State.

According to the expert on IS mere aerial bombing won’t be sufficient and in addition to it more and more army men are to be deployed to fight against the IS militants.

In the meantime this terrorist hydra is spreading its tentacles across the world and more and more countries come under its attacks there by exerting their influence. Islamic State has set a deadline of 2020  by which all world should have to come under its rule and they are determined to achieve that goal.

Going by the way, we the observes of their deadly attacks in various countries whether it is possible to achieve their aim is a billion dollar question. If that be the case those who are bound to share the blame are (world’s) powerful nations. It is high time something drastic needed to be done t wipe out this menace from the face of earth on a war footing. It should be remembered that at present a number of militant outfits are ruling the roost across the world and in the not too distant future all these outfits are poised to come under the Islamic Sate militants. The result will be apocalypse and nothing else. 

WINDS OF CHANGE

POEM

Winds of change always

make us wonder, anxious,

embarrass, eager and excite.

By throwing out

a government thru ballot

another party takes up the mantle

naturally it forces us to think

whether it is for good or worse.

Political leaders are chameleons

if not all, most of them are

adept in changing colours

depending upon the situation.

Hence it is better

never go by their

oratorial skills, sky-high promises and platitudes.

Unfortunately common man

reposing trust in their skills

often falls in their trap and gets betrayed.

When they sing in unison

‘happy days are here again’

take it by a table spoon full of salt

since we the people

are often taken for granted.

After getting caught in their trap

there’s no point in

shedding tears over our fate

but the sad truth is

nothing  but our penchant

to go by their words…..

Hence, we the people

 often call ourselves asses…..   

KAMLA’S RIVER

POEM        

Kamla in the sunset of her life

sits on the river bank

looking sadly at the river

which is fast drying up

due to the searing summer sun

since a few months.

Kamla whose two daughters

are seen talking to each other

just in front of their home

sometimes smiling, sometimes laughing

aloud, sometimes pondering over something  seriously

who have come on vacation from abroad

with their husbands and children to celebrate the fast approaching

approaching festival with their mother,

father already bid farewell to heaven.

Kamla, taking bath in

the twilight memorizing

her yesteryears as a child

teenager and grown up lady

when the river was pregnant

with dark green water flowing quietly

quietly, yes, but it is deceptive calm on the surface.

While the surface remained calm,

she was aware of strong and speedy under currents.

Kamla still reminisces her early days

When she learned swimming

and occasionally swam across the river

and reached the other bank

of the wide river competing with

her friends and enjoyed it.

Then the two riverbanks

were ‘embellished’ with thick mangrove forests

leaning over the river.

She still recollects those

days when fishermen

rowing their boats who

frequently produced peculiar loud voices in the mornings

for the people living

on both sides of the river to attract them

and purchase fresh fish.

Kamla, clad in her jacket

and blouse would rush to

the riverside just in front of her home

and beckoned the fishermen to come to her

rowing the boat with the fish inside it.

Those were happy, memorable

days in her life which

she never forgets till she breathes her last.

The mangrove forests are

gone, the once flowing river to the brim is fast drying up

forcing Kamla to heave repeated sighs.

Even with the onset of monsoon

that old river won’t turn up once more

she knows deep inside her heart

which pushes her into the deep pit of sadness.

Kamla, once a burly, tall and cute lady

has cleared the path for snow-white hair

and skinny body with wrinkles remaining prominent.

With the twilight vanishing

and darkness like a pall of gloom descending down

Kamla sits oblivious of

all movements going

on around her until her daughters

reaching her, awakening her

and pleading with her

to go back to the home………..

REVOLT OF THE SLAVES

POEM

They marched ahead unarmed

to the fortress of their master in revolt

demanding freedom from the invisible shackles

since a prolonged period and

when they  touched the nadir of their patience

the master on hearing

the news of his subjects

rising in revolt against him

in a fit of rage and fury

ordered his guards to

crush the rebellion

and they turned dogs wagging

tails and sugarcane plantations

like an elephant making a mess of everything

by ripping apart the latter.

The guards took the plunge and marched ahead

with lethal weapons

crushed the revolt

cold-bloodedly killing most

of the victims who raised

the banner of revolt

against their master.

The guards displaying ‘V’signs

celebrated and returned to the fortress of

their beloved master hilariously,

informed him of the victory of

so-called ‘enemies’.

The master with his bloodshot eyes

burst out laughing

like the roar of a lion,

congratulated his loyalists

and presented them with

precious jewels and treated

them with a sumptuous feast.

The subjects across the

land gathered under one

umbrella debated, discussed, deliberated

and took stock of the situation

and squarely blamed themselves

for raising the banner of

revolt unarmed and were

ashamed of the futility of their action.

Decided they to arm

themselves to face the loyal thugs of the master

chalked out the future course of action.

The decision resulted in

bloodshed and blood spill

over the streets of

both the thugs and the masses.

Not taken aback

from a position of

strength and confidence

they fought to the hilt

and ultimately chased away the thugs

who like dogs tucking tails

between each one’s

legs fled for life.

The master turned, panicky

and he was butchered by

the fighting brave ones

and took over the

reins of the land……

SO FAR YET SO NEAR

POEM

Never ever in my

life I can say I hate you

since the spring of love towards you

ever won’t get dried up.

Never ever in my life

I can say I don’t like to see you

since in the mirror of my mind

I always see your innocence in your eyes

and dream for your charming presence by my side.

Never ever in my life

I can say I don’t like to listen to

your mellifluous  music

since it is so melodious

like that of a nightingale.

Never ever in my life

I can say I detest your dance,

since your dance is enchanting and enthralling and delighting

lifting me up to an ethereal world.

Never ever in my life

I can say I dislike your beauty

since you are the prettiest lass

I have ever seen in my life.

True, we are miles apart even while

I feel like we are so near………………………….

WHEN HE MISSED HIS VILLAGE LIFE

POEM

His youthful days in the city

have robbed him off the names

of flowers, plants, various

species of birds,

insects and animals

barring a few.

The names of the ones he was familiar

with during his childhood

days and teens

unfortunately are forgotten.

The surging crowds,

the speeding vehicles,

the trains blaring their

horns like tigers roaring and long hours

lost due to journeys

and round the

clock duties in which he immersed himself

to be precise, the mechanical life

spent in the mechanized ambience of

the cosmopolitan city

all took away from

him the  attractive

colours and fragrance of  various flowers,

the serene, calm and beauty of

the sylvan  surroundings

the pure air

the flowing streams which

gurgling  like girls wearing

anklets while walking

the early morning melodious music 

of nightingales,

the chirping of birds and the music of crickets

have got lost in hustle and bustle of the 

city life.

Now he in his

village sits alone

sadly and with aching heart

those invaluable gems of the days

he lost colouring his

days in the city……..

‘I have to learn from the beginning now,

sadly many invaluable things

have already vanished with the offensive of industrialization………’

-he told himself.

  

LOOKING FROM AFAR

POEM

Looking from afar

I see dark columns of smoke billowing out of a factory

spilling over to a vast areas of sky

in the midst of dark green woods.

It seems the factory has in no way

caused ecological damage.

Perhaps I may be wrong

since, around the factory 

sprawling areas could be lying flat

denuding a number of trees.

See, I am looking from a distant hill

a very distant hill, standing over a giant rock.

Sustainable development

is the need of the hour

many argue in an age

when development has

evolved into a byword.

Unfortunately through

gradual deforestation

earlier slowly and later speedily

forests disappear in split seconds causing

environmental disaster

upsetting the climate cycle.

From a slow start the process gathers momentum

and it reaches a shocking level with no break in sight.

Instead the drivers of the modern engines of

so-called growth

apply pressure on the accelerators

resulting in crashes

……causing damage to themselves…..

ROMANCE OF TWO FOREST BLOOMS

POEM

Leaning over the balcony

enjoying the golden sun

and warm breeze which filtered through the lush greenery

in the evening yesterday,

I spotted two red blooms kissing each other 

shyly and stealthily

like two lovers in the

nearby forest, yes forest.

Watching their romance

with a beaming smile

oblivious of the surroundings

scenes and talks of the

passerby  walking down the road

both of them came

across me and was seen whispering

to each other with

the shyness still unwilling to fade away.

Deciphering whispers is

something impossible

still I felt like the duo were conveying to

each other something about me.

In my make-believe world of sweet dreams

I prayed earnestly to ever merciful God

to allow them to be there

sharing love in the coming days too….

I was eager to wake up early in the morning

with thumping heart and bated breath

I waited anxiously and with

impatience, unbound impatience

for the golden sun to appear in the western horizon.

God must have decided otherwise.

To my shock and aching heart

I threw my eyes leaning over the balcony

in the absence of the golden sun

the dark cloudy sky was spreading dusky shades

over the earth

the two red blooms have disappeared.

Still without losing hope 

with  the disappearance of

dark clouds , the two lovers

would reappear in

a golden evening kissing

each other….to make me smile with unlimited pleasure………………..