The unpoken!

Certain things are better off when told to none,

And  certain when told to everyone around,

But then there are some which would crush one's heart,

Mince the crushed heart again, and leave one helpless!!

Now, should one revolt and strike the brute!

Or leave aside and forgive as a folly?

But then, what happens to the insult that is thrust up on,

And the merciless slap on the face?

Now, should one drink all this poison and feel ashamed?

Or fight this might with little strength that is left?

But then, what happens to the relationships that are norms of  life,

This just remains as The life, The strife , The incomprehensible!!

Hope

What has gone amiss

Is an enigma that eludes

The struggle for breath, solace and  rise

Is what is left of that life that seldom knew peace

With mountains of worries that buries pure wisdom

What is being seen is a misty bout of blight

There is a fight against, might that defies right

Still there is a hope that defies all odds

Wrote this after reading an article "Had Sardarji lived " in The Hindu's Sunday Magazine of Nov 22 09

Writers' block

There was this dream of becoming a writer that came in uninvited and lingered in the air. It, as I see had stemmed not really from the urge to write. But from the need of a ten year old to outdo a classmate who won considerable admiration from friends and teachers for a wonderful poem that she had written.
It was then that I decided to write a poem. The very first poem was named "Death". Though it had a strong flavor of philosophy every one around feared that I have some innate thoughts of death. As the poem got published in that years school magazine and got the praises of a local genius the fears seemed to take a backseat  and recognition took its place. 

As I grew up and had to  move out of home to new cities on work with none around to talk to, I started writing again to protect myself from the grinding grip of loneliness. I wrote on every small and big thing that made me think; A dream,a friend, a news item and anything.

Now, as I sit here with a mind entangled with too many issues I realize that there is nothing more that I can write at the moment!

Sensitive sensitivity

As we rush across to meet the deadlines and targets are we loosing on a lot of things?

I suppose we are.

We are loosing our own sensitivity knowingly/unknowingly. Sensitivity to a lot of small but invaluable things in life that would make an ocean of difference. Time with family , helping the child with his homework, a bed time story for the 4 year old, a lullaby for the toddler and god knows what all.

We send our babies to play schools as soon as they are six months, to pre-schools as soon as they are 2 years of age! Where are we heading to?

We don't know who our neighbors are. Often we don't even recognize them , for we have never seen them. If we have seen them , we refer to them by : man with the blue car, lady with springy hair, the black fat man, old lady who always sits in that balcony etc. But you see we are not to be blamed. We just don't have time. But don't we have even overseas friends in social networking sites? Don't we spend hours looking at the internet?

We happily move in to plush apartments of n floors , buy new cars, use umpteen number of electric appliances , throw our plastic wastes carelessly never paying any heed to the environment, the mother earth. Yes, probably we may not face the after effects but what happens to the future generation?

Do we care to think?

My wishlist goes on...

Yet again I wish, if only it were a bit less painful,
Yet again I wish, if only it were not to mince my torn hopes,
In this puzzle of life, is ethics an out caste? Values so fragile?
Yet again I wish, if only I were not to go through all these.

I wish I could trace back all the ways that were trodden,
Only to reach the womb where I came from and be gone.

Terror hits

I had come across a particular real life story a few days back, about the lone survivor in a family which was wiped off in a blast. The story of the lone survivor who has now lost all hopes was so touching. Here goes my version.

They ripped apart this life
They ripped apart its hope
They darkened the morrows, with those shots
And I live torn, with long gone happiness

Long way ahead seem darkest of darkest
Even glimmers of hope brutally guillotined
Will this survive one more of those hits
I wish, at least I do not survive to write on that

Would have wished if it were a bit less painful
Would have wished if it were to come soon
Would have wished if it were to come silent and scoop me off
But then what difference would it make now that I'm left numb
Yes , but now I wish I could mourn my own loss
But this terror has left me so barren that even tears elude

Caught in Tornado

Recently I had come across a news item which showed miseries faced by a particular family torn by several tragedies. The story was heart rending and it kept haunting me for days. In my own way I'll try to say what the lady of that house was saying in between sobs.


One feels really lost,
As the years fly by, life amidst,
Tears fill the mind,
As the heart takes the brunt.

One moves ahead, wobbling,
With the filth of grief engulfing,
The rest of what is left,
Of this misery called life.

Tossed up and down,left and right,
In an ocean of plain bitterness,
One is left struggling for breath,
With only one thing in wait.