HOLY COMMUNION

POEM

It was a Sunday

on which I saw you first.

Whether you

were seeing me first

on that same day. 

We threw glances at

each other but didn’t

utter a single word.

Cute, pretty,

ineffable and attractive, I  couldn’t  erase

your face for days together

which was indelibly imprinted 

on the wall of mind.

I earnestly wished to

meet you everyday

but after that Sunday

I couldn’t espy you

for a long period.

Whither you went and

whether you would 

appear before me a

second time like we

first met on that

fateful Sunday.

My sullen look told me

that you wouldn’t come

before me another day.

On the contrary, on a

fine  Sunday morning 

I saw you walking along to

the church to attend the

Holy Communion.

Taken aback with

unbelieving eyes I threw

my glances repeatedly

at you and on watching my

embarrassed but pleasant face

you threw a question-

‘Can’t believe? Yes, I am

the same lady you saw

me first on that very Sunday

my heart  missed a beat

and with stammering voice

I asked  -

‘True , I can’t believe myself

from that very day I am

keeping your face in 

my memory and I wanted

again and again   to

see you another day’

you just threw

a beaming smile at me and uttered –

‘But everyday  , every morning,

I see you walking

along the road with your

head held high, but

with a sullen face’.

Again,

 taken aback I was wondering

how come you see me

daily and from where.’

Still, I wonder

from  where you were glancing  at me.

Anyhow the very thought

that you find  time

to watch me walking down

the foot-path to the

bus-station.

PROGRESS CARD

POEM

Criss-crossing the nation,

in the run-up to the

General Elections

citizens at the bottom of

social ladder

are offered tall promises.

The parties and leaders of

political parties are

distributing the promises

on a silver platter

thereby assuring all citizens

irrespective of caste, creed and religion

to better the lives of all

within a short spell at

the most hundred days.

And those parties and their

leaders who win the elections

after assumption of power

do virtually nothing

to alleviate the sufferings

of the poor barring the

well-being of the ones who

are born with a silver-spoon

in their mouths.

The have-nots are

taken for a ride

and even after a prolonged spell

their conditions remain pathetic.

Being taken for a ride,

these days the poor

ones take the promises

of the leaders on a shovel of salt.

Thus the seeds of

a rebellion are sown

which within a short period

evolve into a civil war.

AN ONGOING PROCESS

POEM

Lust for power drives a

ruler especially a dictator

leads to the ditch of disaster.

Greed for wealth pushes a

ruler especially a dictator

to amass huge amounts

of wealth thereby draining

the exchequer and forces

pauperization of a nation.

The country falls

into the abyss of poverty

and famine leading to deaths

hundreds of thousands of 

citizens everyday

selfishness is the hallmark

of a ruler especially a dictator

since his wives, children, siblings

and loyal courtiers are

left to bloodhounds to prey them

flee abroad seeking asylum.

Lust, greed and selfishness

apart there exist a

number of reasons which

are heart-breaking or heart –curdling.

It is an ongoing

process, never ending process

from which there is no let up.

SHADOW-PLAY

POEM

Don’t mistake this for real life.

This is a make-believe world

we are not real-life characters.

They spread across somewhere else

mind you, in this

make-believe world

we are all shadows

and what we play are shadow-plays

we are all shadows and

continue to be  shadows.

THE THRONE

POEM

How come a dictator,

especially a malevolent dictator

goes on with his ruthless rule

massacring millions of his subjects

with as many flee the country for life

to another nation seeking refuge?

How dare a dictator

a malevolent dictator

stick to his throne

when the citizens of a country

after suffering poverty,

famine , undernourishment etc

consolidate under one umbrella

with the determination to kick the rascal out

march ahead to oust him,

otherwise forcing him to

abdicate his throne

in spite of the fellow

not willing to step down

and stick to his post like a leech

who let loose a reign of terror

knowing in his heart of

hearts that the citizens

one day will throw him out of his throne……  

SUMMER OF DISCONTENT

POEM

With the searing heat

reaching its peak

we feel thirsty  and exhausted. 

Not only us, living beings as a whole

too are affected

with passage of time.

They feel tired and hungry

and in the process

they fall prey to be

summer heat and breathe their last.

In these days of summer

the worst-hit are the farmers

whose vast paddy fields

go dry and cracks develop everywhere.

Our mouths go dry and

are compelled to pray to

the Goddess of Rain.

Scarcity of water deprive

all living-beings especially

the human-beings.

Whenever I think of drought,

I go philosophical and painful.

Like the simmering summer heat and drought

getting on our nerves,

relationships among

mankind develop

cracks like the

sprawling paddy-fields,

in the new era.

Each lives for himself or herself

and love goes artificial

and each human being

develops hollow, shallow smiles.

Sincere love and smiles

are something to be dreamt about

or in other words our wishful thinking.

Like the cycle of

seasons playing truant

relationships among

human beings trickle down

like drops of water. 

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS

POEM

Mouth-watering

mango fruits are weakness of many.

Costly , expensive and exorbitant

they are in short supply.

Gone are the days of

cheap, and sweet mango-fruits

widespread in our land.

Those days are gone

and those days are

never to visit us again

and hence the exorbitant

mango fruits are monopoly of a few

especially the rich.

Added to this

diabetics are on the

increase these days

and though mouth-watering

mango-fruits which

are in short supply

are denied to them by the medicos.

Pity them…….