Pappaji (1938-2018)

These last years that he lived
just to see her walk around.
Her word was all he believed-
which to him was love abound.
He often called out her name
with such mischievous romance.
Wish were their memories framed
to watch them flicker and dance

And now they both smile from miles-              

living in their world erstwhile.

Brave / Strong

I’m not brave so much as I appear
nor can put on a face when tears roll.
Heart wrenching it is the unknown fear
for misgivings deceive the poor soul.
But when fate flips the cards on the table-
it ends the drama of whimsical twirls.
Then some power makes me strong and able-
steers this mind-wheel of the emotional swirl.
The brave dare the anxieties of this play,
and they ebb not presaging the outcome.
The strong bear but find the will and a way-
unruffled they stand as others succumb.
I’m not brave because I lack courage.
But I’m getting stronger as I age. 

Mummy (1937- 2018)

There is a soft mist in my eyes today
that blurs my vision but not her image.
She is somewhere near though far away-
talking in my thoughts quoting her adage.
Come weekend, and my phone would promptly buzz-
her Friday-call for our ritual dinner.
What would I like to eat ? - she would ask and fuss,
then wait for me with ado and eager.
But now she is gone, and I sit and wait-
her absence so abrupt with least fanfare.
I ask her - couldn’t you have left little late? -
But the time comes soon though appears unfair.
I miss her laughter and spiced-up gossips.
She smiles from beyond as the red sun dips.

Bizarro

She treads the path that few take,

walking miles for a just cause.
She braves the odds and the aches-
undeterred without a pause.
Strong-willed of whimsical mind,
but heart melts to others’ griefs.
A woman one of a kind
who stands up for her beliefs.
She is more a friend than wife

I would want in every life.

Postcard

On my birthday each year,

he would send me a postcard.

Tiny yellow souvenir

of love, wishes and regards.

For as long as I recall,

my day began with his post.

Red- penned in his usual scrawl

would be the ritual toast.

Now his image stamped, impressed -

blessings from a new address.

                      

Crossroads

The roller-coaster years,

awash with fear and thrill.

So surreal they appear -

with their flashbacks the soul fills.

A long adventure now ends,

life pauses for a new one.

Surprise waits at the next bend -

change of boots for second run.

Bind your memoirs in a sheaf -

as thieves sigh with a relief.

Hope

Virtues seek reciprocal-

gestures vie for approval.

But desires equivocal,

and the fate appears cruel.

You rejoice in the belief

that deeds would be gratified.

Alas! this fancy is brief,

and such futile seems the pride.

The soul has treacherous roots.

And hope is a bitter fruit.

Unknot

Why pick those threads of virtue

which needle your every thought?

When such dogmas stitch and sew

to tailor you with a knot.

Let the tongue utter your mind,

and unbutton the desires.

Tho the words seem undefined-

they roll to kindle fire.

The coat of colourful wits-

deep within the soul bird knits.

My Ice Eater

She plops like a lazy pup
admiring her long, soft hair.
Hundred ice casually slurps
as music fills up her lair.
All emotions camouflaged -
but try and decipher not.
She is silent and unbudged -
though foxy mind churns a lot.  
If fate my desires stirs -
I would want to be like her.