Thursday, September 16, 2021

Image

 

You cannot digest what speaks the mirror,

and feverishly search to mend the damage.

You blame it for it reflects your errors,

and portrays not your new made-up image.

So you snap, click and edit your photo-

colours to present a different picture.

Camouflaged with layers from head to toe,

hiding the soul but flashing the texture.

You caption this frame to further enhance,

peppered with a sweet voice to go along.

In hope to upraise the societal stance

but unaware where you truly belong.

But soon this drama and dice go backstage-

you call the mirror for a pure image.


Saturday, September 11, 2021

Ganesh Chaturthi

 

There he sits with folded legs

with long ears that lend to all.

Round about the trunk-nose spreads,

eloquent eyes like a doll.

Blessings for good beginnings-

here we redeem all our vows.

Sweetness of modak streaming,

quietly munches his mouse.

Longer need this ten days lease-

but he dives into the seas.



Thursday, September 9, 2021

Janmashthami

 

Embodying divine spirits

the human pyramid soared.

Swaying with colourful wits,

the souls danced as the rain poured.

And amidst the bells of joy,

a small boy climbed to the top.

Mischievous appearing coy,

he broke the clay yogurt pot.

And as the white honey flew-

deep inside me a conch blew.



Tuesday, August 24, 2021

Birthday

 

She would wear a new saree,

and wait with a plate and knife.

Bindi, bangles, eyes sparkly

for the cake would soon arrive.

Smile broadened when we entered-

we touched her feet, hugged her tight.

And as the emotions stirred,

she blessed us with all her might.

Would a cake now taste yummy?

Happy birthday to mummy.


Friday, July 30, 2021

Liar

 

When the silver sands of the beach beckon,

I tell myself that I don't want to roll.

What does a lone ship at the sea reckon 

when I sail not but she can read my soul?

Though far away, I hear the mountains call-

I tell my limbs you are too old to climb.

And the echoes of the valleys recall

but I fear that I am not in my prime.

And when the long gliders fly in the sky

I close my eyes for they seem just too high.

But I am awake when the seagulls cry

for even daring to dream I am shy. 

How far do horizons appear to lie?

Or is it just me I wonder and sigh.


Tuesday, July 27, 2021

War-Cry

 

War is over and fewer men return

now aware that it wasn’t yet their turn.

The teary eyes thirsty for a long sleep

but pillows will dry after nightmares burn.


Thursday, July 22, 2021

Butterfly And Bee

 

I would want to be a pink butterfly

basking in the yellow morning sunshine.

I would flap my colourful wings to fly,

and hop from flower to flower to dine.

Or rather I live as a honey bee,

and make the golden liquid of pleasure?

I will disguise it from those eyes greedy,

and shall use my sting to guard the treasure.

But a honey bee buzzes all the while-

for people like us who steal her nectar.

And the poor butterfly is so docile

that it lives to please us like an actor.

If ever fate gives me a choice of role-

I would not know on which path I would roll.