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  • Liberation, not annihilation

     

     

    “Agni, the annihilator, all powerful,
    Come closer and absorb me, in total.
    Wreck this wretched woman
    Who ditched her prime son
    The hands which threw him into water
    Should be burned first, the rest later,
    But destroy me totally, Agni,
    Leave nothing behind.
    Let another Kunthi be never born.
    The world should never remember
    The cowardice of a dismal mother”

    “Me first Kunthi, me first,
    I killed all my sons
    Not less than a hundred.
    You deserted only one baby.

    Blind for their faults,
    I made my sons blind,
    Supporting their treachery
    I filled my treasury
    With curses of mothers
    Husbands, wives and others
    Agni, annihilate me in total
    Leave not a speck behind
    The world shouldn’t have
    A man of my kind”

     

    “Me first Kunthi, for mutilating the dignity
    Of the crown diamond of the Kuru dynasty
    Instead of washing her tresses with perfumes
    And adorning it with flowers and jewels
    I allowed its mutilation by dirty hands.
    Ashamed to say those hands are my son’s.
    Mutilated was not her hair locks and dress alone,
    Her sacred self esteem and dignity of womanhood
    The stain of that crime will stay ever
    On the fallen walls of Kuru’s empire.

    When Panchali screamed in shame
    Under the grips of the assailant
    Her call pierced my cells, like Arjuna’s arrows
    Punctured my bones like Bheema’s mace.
    Why didn’t I tear my eye band
    And rush to strengthen my daughter’s hand?”

    “Elder sister and brother emperor
    Encircled we are by fire,
    Not ferocious but gracious
    The lord who gifted Droupathi.
    Will liberate us in sympathy
    He is not a kitchen fire or forest fire,
    He is lord Agni, the liberator,
    Let us surrender to our Elevator”

  • Waiting is his duty and pride

    “Trucking hills and crossing rivers,
    Pushed by devotional fervors
    Hurried crowd from far and near
    ‘Har, Har, Mahadev’ rolled in ears.

    Excited you were and wanted to rise,
    Stand on legs and dance in trance
    Moving your horns, tail and bell
    To the divine sound of conch shell
    But, you controlled your emotion
    And decided to stay with no motion.
    Awaiting a call from your Master,
    But now there is a disaster.

    Cold winds, like a cruel conqueror
    Lashes it’s swords of terror
    The shrine doors are shut, men have left
    Why, Nandi, why do you wait?”

    “Waiting is my duty and pride
    When my Master stays inside
    Whether it rains or whether it shines
    My job to wait before His shrine”

  • Last night, no light.

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    Last night, no light; power off for an hour,
    Struggled we two, me and my brother.

    I cried, ‘match box’,
    He bought a soap box !
    I yelled’ ‘torch light’,
    He bought a cooker weight!

    No cells in the torch
    No sticks in the match
    No trace of a candle
    Waste was my wandle.

    Mind went back to my comfort zone
    Where the sun is soft, the moon mild
    It is a joy even to call back those days
    Not to condemn my present days
    But fact is fact, now no light
    In dark, I sweat.

    Absolutely unmoved by heat and darkness
    Vicha was singing MasthAn Sahib songs
    ‘Enough of your Masthan, tell me this’,
    I taunted my brother on divine bliss

    ‘Will you look after the house affair
    When I go for my eye repair?’
    ‘Oh!’, he said meaning ‘yes’
    ‘Will you look after me?, I asked, next
    ‘Oh’, he said thrice and continued with his MasthAn!

    Suddenly glowed the emergency light,
    A hundred candies who lighted
    And a hundred matches who gifted?

    I turn and see the pooja lamp
    Which I lighted in the morning
    Still bright, I missed its sight
    And searched for a torch light!

    We miss to enjoy what we have
    And look for what we don’t have
    I’m happy I have my kin
    To support me wherever I’m
    Many miss that bliss, but,
    Masthan Saheb, I shouldn’t miss!

  • Before I touched, the chariot moved.

     

    Men of muscles and mighty elephants
    Pushed the chariot in full force.
    ‘Dwarakadeesh!’, cried the crowd,
    But, not an inch, the chariot moved.

    Seven elephants from the worlds above
    And seven from below,
    All mighty, majestic tuskers,
    Came dashing, all together
    Pushed the chariot with great force
    Their trumpets trembled the mountains
    Their foot beats crumbled the earth,
    ‘Dwarakaadeesh!’, cried the crowd.
    But, not an inch the chariot moved.

    Startled by the shocking news
    Yeshodha came, Nanda came,
    Gopis came, came the entire gokulam
    ‘Hei, Gopala, hei Govinda!’
    All cried and pushed and pushed
    But, not an inch the chariot moved.

    ‘Call Devaki mAta’!, shouted someone
    Devaki came with Vasudeva,
    Her eyes swollen like a monsoon cloud
    Her hands shivering like a winter leaf,
    She went near, to push the cart
    But before her hand, a tear drop
    Touched the chariot, it rolled and rolled
    The crowd cheered and cheered.

    ‘Wah, you did it!’, cried Yasodha.
    ‘Not me, my dreams’, said Devakii
    ‘From the night I lost my baby
    I longed and longed to rock his cradle
    Just once and even today
    Before I touched , the chariot moved’

  • Her thoughts have only one direction

     

    Like waving a toffee box before a kid
    And asking him to shut his mouth
    Heavy downpour last night,
    Now, heat returned in full might.

    ‘Why a/c for me?’,
    I asked my son, long back.
    ‘You need it dad’, he said.
    Not me, my children know what I need!

    ‘Why a new birth for me?’
    I asked my Master above.
    ‘You need it !’, He smiled
    Me to Earth, He mailed.
    Not me, my Master knew what I need .

    He didn’t push me down,
    Lodged me in my mom’s chamber
    A safe pool where I swam
    Don’t remember cool or warm.

    AC or non AC, take things easy.
    But climate has a say
    In moulding our life,
    Climate in and climate outside.

    Provide a good climate
    For the children to grow
    With your words, deeds and behavior
    Akin to their mom’s inner chamber!

    Puritan love is the AC there in.
    Positive compassion the PC
    No ‘I’ nor ‘me’, in mom’s affection
    Her thoughts have only one direction.
    With no iPad and no iPhone
    She sees your face and hears your voice
    As you were her part then
    And even now.

  • Whom to ask, who did it?

     

    Yes, my body, the Sun scorches
    To mind too, the heat reaches
    But who tore my body into two
    And took away a half?
    Certainly not the Sun
    And whom to ask who did it?

    Injuries inflicted, came without calling,
    Some healed, some healing,
    Some will never heal.
    The Sun didn’t do it.
    And whom to ask, who did it?

    If you can carry on
    With a half – sliced body,
    Wounds healed and healing;
    And pull your cart in heat or cold,
    You will reap your crops
    Despite your warps.

    I want to leave behind
    Not my cart empty
    May be some toys, for the kids’ joy
    May be some words to heal the wounds,
    May be even my laugh and smiles,
    Seen from far, far miles
    But never a drop of tear
    Or the old wounds’ smear

    My losses are mine, gone in with my wine.
    And in my children’s domain
    Smell of sandal paste and jasmine
    Alone should remain
    The sandal from their father
    And jasmine from their mother.

  • Save our families

     

    Cracks do develop in some families
    Though they are not made of bricks
    Brick – cracks can be repaired by a mason
    Wood -cracks by a carpenter.

    But, when a family tears apart
    Those who went out, have to come back
    And rebuild.
    And there comes the problem!

    Wood, cement and mortar
    Are free from ego
    But men?
    Women?

    I know how in the West
    People are eager
    To build families
    And save them too.

    For us, the great concept
    Is given in golden plate
    Let us save it
    For our own good
    For our children’s good.

    Children don’t fall
    From the sky
    Nor they rise up
    From the ground

    They are our flowers,
    Our fruits
    Our life,
    Our hope.

    And for them
    Save our families!

     

  • Mamu’s prayer

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    This Assam girl is close to my heart,
    Very close.
    She, in fact, is a part of my family
    Indistinguishable part.

    Lustrous was her life
    Till a tornado in Chicago
    Torn it to pieces.

    With one stoke, a massive stroke,
    The Fate destroyed her present and future
    Leaving her a residue of a massive rupture.

    Still fresh in my mind,
    The roar of the whirlwind
    Flashing like devil’s swords
    To tell you, I’ve no words!

    The Fate turned a brute?
    To shake lives deep to its roots?
    It danced like a drunkard
    Or a destroyer’s vanguard .

    Her picture was colorful
    Never black and white
    I know the colors wont return
    But atleast the black should go
    But will it?

    I’m glad, after an Year
    I can see, when I’m near
    A white streak for which I waited
    I’m excited!

    Luminous is her character
    The disaster couldn’t diminish
    It’s luster
    Bad luck met with bad time
    When it troubled a good dame.

    Time should show a gesture
    And give her a future
    The blood stain should go for ever
    And she should suffer never.

  • The doves will be back

     

    Went to Ayyappa temple
    To pay my salutes humble.
    God was inside, aloof
    A pair of doves on the roof
    Enjoying the sunlight,
    Ready for a flight,
    Chirping, playing
    Moving together,

    None dares to climb the roof
    Of the home where god dwells
    But did these little birds
    A lovely pair
    Stroll over God’s head!

    Real fun there, behold!
    What matters if I’m old?
    Bracing is their moves
    The happy pair doves
    Together they walk, one halts
    The other too halts,
    One moves backward,
    The other too.
    What a symphony on the roof
    Am I old, show the proof !

    Flies up one, the other
    doesn’t move a feather,
    Waits, then goes up
    And they come back together!

    The temple bell rings
    Devotees come running
    I too, and shout
    ‘Swamy saranam
    Ayyappa saranam’

    Fly away the birds
    Unable to stand my words?
    It is bad,
    I feel sad!

    Why did I yell?
    God can’t hear well?
    Isn’t He so near?
    Tip toe I retire.

    Relax; God is there,
    The roof is there
    I will go, so what?
    The doves will be back
    The doves will be back!

  • Fruits should be in a/c rooms

    Going crazy in the glowing heat,
    Why hard for me to beat?
    Five decades of stay went waste?
    ”Yes’, says the nicker from my waist.
    Feel ashamed while I muse
    Get me soon some cold juice.

    Numberless the days I wandered
    With no hat, no umbrella,
    What happened all of a sudden
    Why heat became a hefty burden?

    ‘The sun is the same, the land is the same,
    But not you, dad’, tells my daughter.
    ‘No more you are a green mango
    You, a ripe fruit now!”

    ‘But fruits are juicy, and am I thirsty!’
    ‘True, dad!, tells Megh.
    ‘We enjoy your juice,
    Your poems, stories, songs and jokes
    Your very presence is a passion
    For us, beyond oceans’

    My heat is gone, I’m reborn young
    Ready to fly and eat the sun
    Like the little VAyuputhar.
    Vicha, where my tube of Athar?

    What he knows about Athar, the scent?
    The old city special, I’m out
    Twenty miles who cares?
    ‘ll be back ere sun retires.

    From my back, my brother coughs,
    From the kitchen a kitten mews
    For maid Yadamma, it is a news
    My going out in this hot sun
    But for me, it’s a fun.

    No fun this, hot waves who pour,
    The moment I open a half door?
    Fruits should be in a/c room
    Like my friend, a NRI bridegroom
    Who came to marry an Indian honey,
    And she went for night shopping with his money!