Monday, February 25, 2013

The Battlefield

Kauravas readied in protective shields
of spears, swords, and the wise old mentors.
Horses and elephants shook the battle field.
Brave archers lined up to send down tremors.
Equally fierce on the other side-
in shining armours the Pandavas stood.
With bows, arrows, and the bold unmatched might-
awaited these warriors, and seemed to brood.
The enemy surveyed, Arjuna froze:
how could he fight his brothers and masters?
Then the golden charioteer Krishna spoke.
His counsel of war recited in verse.
Great kshatriya, his identity known,
good from the evil shown, and the conch blown.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Makhan Chor

Matki filled makhan hung high, unreached-
forbade little prankster’s touch
who salivated, stood underneath.
By what design could it be brought down, he thought-
Then, of friends, formed human pyramid.
Hunger strong, eager his search.
Slurped the makhan concealed, joy unhid.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The Link

Five year old Giri, blessed with insight,
orated an ancient language, untaught.
Nor guardian nor aided by divine light,
recited the script, but its roots not sought.
Then a lineage found - thousand years old,
an ancestral monk that spoke Giri’s tongue
whose vast knowledge his memory cell stored-
reborn and revived when Giri’s cell sung.
Now, monk’s small village Giri could describe-
the road, house, farm, friends, and the wishing well.
How he longed to visit his long lost tribe
as each picture breathed deep, and excelled.
Soon would he cross over to native shore,
trace back his legacy of ancient store.

Friday, February 8, 2013


Through the windows sun lavishly poured.
It’s shine and fragrance tingled.
Restful, amidst the greens I arose.
Birds filled me with songs while ducks bathed in ponds-
From miles away winds carried the rings
of fisherman’s bicycle
as the village flapped its timeless wings.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Helping Hand

Broke into my house, thief, late one night.
His hunger perennial,
the look frantic, money not in sight.
I entered the room, he invaded and broomed-
Alarmed, he stares, pleads in surrender.
His wants, like mine - surreal.
And together we search in wonder.