In between truth and beauty

​

Between science’s charts and art’s hues,
Lies a land where philosophy pursues.
A realm where reason and wonder meet,
Where logic and dreams greet.
Where thoughts align,
Truth and beauty entwine.

​

*********

​

Between rise and fall

​

Between rise and fall
What has to happen, happens,
So be happy with whatever happens.

Or,

Between rise and fall,
There is a dance of fate,
Embrace the rhythm, 
For joy lies in the flow,
Not in the outcome.

​

*********

​

A beautiful Madhubala

When I would die  
The frames of minds would look at my frame and say, a beautiful Madhubala.  
I wish they had also seen the beautiful subject in a beautiful object,  
The grace in my gaze, the kindness in my smile,  
The thoughts that wandered wild.    
What of the stories I carried within,  
Of struggles, of hopes, of where I'd been.
I wish they'd seen beyond the skin,  
To where the real beauty lies deep within.

​

*********

​

That day Krishna met a bright light

That day, Krishna met a bright light. It was his birthday. He felt an inexplicable peace. He sensed he had encountered something beyond his comprehension. He felt enhanced.

The bright light offered no gifts. Nor did it dictate right or wrong. It did not proclaim to be the creator of all.
Instead, he said, 
"Krishna, you are like a river—life-giving and rejuvenating. You are a tree, a flower, the rain, the all-powerful Sun."

As if Krishna was meeting himself.

​

*********

​

FATHER'S SUITCASE
(Based on Orhan Pamuk’s Nobel Address)

​

Two years before Senior Pamuk died,
He gave his son Orhan a suitcase,
Filled with his writings,
Telling Orhan to read it after he died.
The suitcase was 'heavy'—
Burdened by the 'mysterious weight of its contents.'

One thing kept Orhan distant:
The fear he might not like what he read.
Orhan did not wish to uncover the possibility
That his father might be a good writer.
“Even worse, I couldn’t even admit this to myself openly.”

Orhan was afraid to acknowledge
That inside his father existed an entirely different man.
He wanted his father to be only his father, not a writer.
When Orhan finished his first novel,
With trembling hands, he gave the manuscript to his father.
His father returned two weeks later.

“I ran to open the door.
My father said nothing, but he at once
Threw his arms around me in a way
That told me he had liked it very much.”

There was an awkward silence.
Then the father said,
"One day, you will win the prize."

​

*********

​

Main agar mujhko na chahoon to mushkil hogi

I love my country because it is my country.
I love my parents because they are my parents.
I love Dev Anand because I want to become Dev Anand.
I love Mukesh because I want to sing like Mukesh.
I love Bertrand Russell because I want to write like Russell.
I love the mirror that presents me better than I am.
I love myself because that is the best option I have.

​

*********

​

Morning Prayer

It was the beginning of spring.
I sat beside Ma.
She was treading a long journey.
Her responses were weak, but her memory had not deserted her.
In her vanishing world, I occupied the prime place.
I touched her feet.
She took time, gathering all the energy her frail body still had.
She opened her tired eyes and said nothing.
I didn’t ask, "How are you, Ma?" The question was meaningless.
I felt no need for verbal communication.
There was silence.
Perhaps she wanted to say, “I lie here all day. When I go to sleep, I am not sure if I will wake up again.”
I said to myself, "I wish you could stay with me forever, Ma, but I don’t want you to suffer anymore. I want your pains to end. I release you from all my attachments. I wish you would rid yourself of all attachments."
It was a painful reality.
There comes a time when it is unwise to resist a thing.
The day came, at the beginning of fall.
We went to a nearby ghat.
In a few hours, everything was over.
She was gone to remain with us
In our morning prayers.

​

​*********

​

In search of home

​

We two, our two,
we four lived on a footpath;
endured beatings every day.

One day we were asked to leave the footpath.
This is our home, we humbly said,
Our story is etched here.

The guard was unmoved,
We must clear the footpath soon,
Debris are no longer safe,
High living cars are chasing desires.

Seeing sympathy in the dutybound eyes, we set out, with heavy heart,
In search of another home.

​

​*********

​

The Writer's Celebration

​

Amidst thousands of books I sit,
Wondering who'd read my bit,
Amongst well-known names I stay,
I write, come what may.

​

A writer writes, and then discards,
Knows what to keep, what to guard,
In thoughtful words, a writer finds,
Celebration of life, intertwined.

 

​*********

​

I am
more transcendental than formal, more metaphysical than scientific, more imaginative than positive, more idealistic than realistic, more intellectual than physical, more internal than external, more emotional than rational. 
 

When I 
walk a mile to meet a friend, I feel I walked only a few steps. When I go for an unpleasant work, I feel I am walking for ages. When I meet a friend after few weeks, I feel I have not seen him for ages. I neither exaggerate nor lie, when I say that. I only apply my concept of time.

​

​*********

​

FATHER'S SUITCASE
(Based on Orhan Pamuk’s Nobel Address)

​

Two years before Senior Pamuk died,
He gave his son Orhan a suitcase,
A suitcase filled with his writings,
Telling Orhan to read them after he died.
The suitcase was 'heavy'—
Burdened by the 'mysterious weight of its contents.'

​

One thing kept Orhan distant:
The fear he might not like what he read.
Orhan did not wish to uncover the possibility
That his father might be a good writer.
“Even worse, I couldn’t even admit this to myself openly.”

​

Orhan was afraid to acknowledge
That inside his father existed an entirely different man.
He wanted his father to be only his father, not a writer.
When Orhan finished his first novel,
With trembling hands, he gave the manuscript to his father.
His father returned two weeks later.

​

“I ran to open the door.
My father said nothing, but he at once
Threw his arms around me in a way
That told me he had liked it very much.”

​

There was an awkward silence.
Then his father said,
"One day, you will win the prize."

​

​*********

​

CAGE 

​

Don't crate the birds. Don't clip their wings. They don't know what freedom is.
Teach them to sing, the songs of freedom.

 

​*********

Ami Chitrangada

​

I am the king's daughter,
Not a goddess, nor an ordinary woman.
Worshipping me and placing me on a pedestal is not me, not me.
Neglecting me and keeping me behind is not me, not me.
If you keep me by your side, 
On crisis and in wealth 
You will know me truly.
I am Chitrangada, Rajendranandini.

-Rabindranath Tagore

 

​*********

To touch the sky

​

A skeleton rides a horse, 
To touch the sky,
Reaching its destination, 
Only to find it has shifted ahead. 

Every era crafts its skeletons, 
Every era needs its horse,
The illusion of progress petsists, 
Creation of skeletons never ceases.

​

​*********

​

Anemoia of old age

​

In the twilight of life, memories softly glow,
Whispers of youth in the heart's shadow.
Eyes once bright, now wise and kind,
Recall the days left far behind.
Moments of joy, laughter, and pain,
Echo in the mind, like a soft refrain.
Anemoia, a longing for times not our own,
In old age, past and present are gently sewn.
Anemoia, a bridge to days of yore,
Where every step is a remembered lore.
For in the heart's deep,
Old age finds peace in the echoing days.

​

​*********

Rabindrasangit graces the screen

 

Rabindrasangit graces the screen, 
a soulful, timeless blend,
In films it weaves a tale, where songs and stories mend.

Rituparno with tender heart confide,
Jibono morone simana charaye, 
in Shubho Mahurat's tide.
Abohoman and Memories in March, where notes and hearts align,
Gahana kusuma kunja majhe, Eki labonye purn pran shine.

Ritwik, with poignant grace, in Meghe Dhaka Tara's call,
Je rate more duar guli, its echoes gently fall.

Tumi Robe Nirobe's silent strains, in Belasheshe's frame,
A melancholic esraj’s cry, no words, yet much the same.

Srikanto in Chatushkone, Chirosokha  takes flight,
Transforming scenes with vivid grace, through Tagore’s pure insight.

Tarun Majumdar’s Dadar Kirti's, sweet songs that still endure,
Bodhu Kone, Ei Korecho Bhalo, emotions pure and sure.
Chorono dhorite Diyogo aamare, Tagore's legacy,
In every film, a melody, a part of history.

Rabindrasangit, soft and strong, in cinema’s embrace,
Endures through time, in every rhyme, a cultural grace.

​​

*********

An optimist

While drawing the blueprint
And tracing the imprint
I keep my eyes open
To experience the unexpected.

I carry a raincoat
Even on a sunny day
An applied hopeful
I keep room for uncertainty
In my hope.

A mix of head and heart
I am an adaptationist
My heart works
When my head fails.

​

 *********

​

Har - Jeet

​

Ram Ravan ki ladaai ke kisi version me Ram jeetate Hain to kisi me Ravan

​

Karan Arjun ki ladaai me kabhi Arjun jeetate Hain to kabhi Karan

​

Mahabharat ki ladaai me jitnewala bhi jeetata jai, haarne waala bhi jeetata hai, haarti hai saari manavta

​

 *********

​

Looking into the Mirror I saw a Full Moon

​

Looking into the mirror

I saw within and looked beyond

I saw a ray of hope

I saw stormy nights

I saw smiling lights

I saw open windows

I saw shut eyes

I felt the fresh air

I saw a pond of freshwater

 

Looking into the mirror

I saw I am occupying three-fourths of the planet

Existing in three phases

Switching from one to the other

I am ordered

Often a jumble of disorder

I am floating upon myself

I am shrinking, and also expanding

I am transparent, tasteless, colourless

 

Looking into the mirror

I looked like a bird from the woods

Flying in the soaring sky

I looked like a bird in a cage

My wings are clipped

And I can’t fly

 

Looking into the mirror

I saw a virtuous me, a vicious me

A prey, a predator

Neural, often mechanical

I saw a mirror turning into a window

 

Looking into the mirror

I saw a full moon

I saw the moon coming out in the clear sky

Clouds soon came out, floating

To splay colours on a dreamy sky

Moon looked like a portrait on a canvas

With changing illuminations

Light and fragile, the moon seemed like a speck

Suspended in the boundless sky

To illuminate the spirit of the sky

It moved up above the dark

At the call of the dawn

I saw a cosmic hall

Touched by the warmth and filled with light

A sparrow came inside

It darted joyfully in the gleam of light

It disappeared, as it appeared

Beyond the familiar

No one knows where.

 

You are an optimum optimist 

An optimum optimist is an applied hopeful

There is room for uncertainty in his hope

Not too self-critical 

Before theorizing, gather the data

Can prepare a mixture of concrete and abstract

An optimum optimist is an adaptationist

Manages situations where extrapolations fail

Believes that shattered hopes help to see life more visually

Thinks of an ideal world with a pinch of salt

A deliberate mix of head and heart

An optimum optimist knows that hope works like a drug, and

Drug overdose is generally dangerous

An optimum optimist cares for the dreams of ordinary people

An optimum optimist carries a raincoat even on a sunny day. 

 

The Journey of optimism is not an accident

It goes up and down

Optimism gives hope

And that generates excitement 

Its natural consequence is thrill

Thrill gives rise to euphoria

Euphoria causes anxiety

Anxiety develops a tendency of denial

Denial arouses fear

Out of fear grows panic

Panic leads to surrender

Its consequence is hopelessness

Optimism steps in at this juncture

There is relief

Optimism grows

Euphoria kills it

And the journey of extraordinary ordinary continues.

 

 *********

​

A Beautiful Mind

 

 All minds are beautiful

Some are more beautiful

Ahead of time, they inspire mankind

Like flowers, they sprout in the cracks of life

Despite differences, they gel well

Coexist where contradictions exist

Unite within and without

Where infinite becomes finite

Where possible is compatibility

They can hear the silence of open spaces

They can balance the swinging pendulum of life

Simply and beautifully.

 

 *********

​

Freedom

 

Freedom is Fluidity, Identity, Dignity

Victory and Overcoming Scarcity

Freedom is freeing the mind of fear

Freedom is victory over darkness

Freedom is to unlearn

To have opinion and courage of expression

Freedom is to resist the unacceptable

Be generous with time

To go slow on a fast track

To ride a bike and nowhere to go

Freedom is to resist too much love, sympathy, and care

Be free from the slavery of freedom 

Freedom is to see a flower blooming, feed a hungry

See a flock of pigeons returning home

Get drenched in the desert rain

Freedom is to hear the sound of the sea

And the mountain speak

Freedom is to live like a bird

In the sky of detachment

Freedom is to sit quietly

Near a little stream

Breathe the fresh air, drink clean water

Live like a common man.

 

*********

 

I Am with Thee

 

In the silence of overflowing leisure

I am rekindling the spirit of togetherness

In the silence of overflowing leisure

I am letting off my inner prisoner

In the silence of overflowing leisure

I am breaking the chains of illusion

In the silence of overflowing leisure

I am not sitting alone

I am with thee.

 

 *********

​

The Rising Sun

 

I met a young boy, around seventeen

Looking for a book at the bookshop

The book was available, but only the hardcover

He would rather wait for the paperback

I did not know what the book was all about, but 

I wanted to buy it for the boy

In the boy, I saw my grandson

I imagined watching Postmaster, and Grandson telling me

Dadu, you look so much like Postmaster Dadu

My mind goes back to the day our grandson was born

That day I could touch the warmth of the Rising Sun

Pleasant are some thoughts

That our grandson can see my thoughts

My emotions and my anxieties.

 

*********

 

An Extraordinary Ordinary

​

A visionary  with a tender heart

Essentially a free man

Not for him were heaven-born Indian services

Destined for “Qadam qadam badhaye ja

Khushi kē geet gaye ja, Yeh zindagi hai qaum ki

Tu qaum pe lutaye ja.”

 

A seer, religion for him was the realization

God made no sense to him if he can’t give bread

Said the ardent Vedantist, “From dreams awake,

from bonds be free, be not afraid,

this mystery my shadow, cannot frighten me.

Know once and for all that I am He.”

 

One found in his poetry the deepest truths of life

Poetry for him was a picture of mind and soul

Watching the sunrise he found the veil suddenly lifted

Everything became luminous and gushed out

Awakening of the Waterfall

The myriad-minded man has left behind

A heritage, time can’t consume.

 

A physicist with a biologist’s mind

Believed in the fundamental unity of all life forms

But was conscious that all life forms don’t possess

The same level of consciousness.

 

His images, a collage of the human spirit

A reflection on the chronicle of social change

Elites awakening to rationalist ideas

Liberation of woman

The anguish of the unemployed

Inexorable death of the conscience

And reassertion of basic values.

 

 

An Extraordinary Ordinary

You are what you are

You are not rich, not famous, not privileged

You are ordinary, yet, you are extraordinary

You make others happy

You don't promise pie in the sky

You can walk and talk with the ordinary

Besotted by luminous charm, unharmed by self-pity

You don’t suffer from dualism or bucolic innocence

You love the mirror you look into

Unaware of biases, and endowed with verbal fluency

You are often unreasonable, yet you are extraordinary

You can create luck, challenge conventions, and accept failures

You can see the extraordinary in the ordinary.

 

*********

​

A beautiful mind has the desire to know

and the capacity to understand

Believes in connectivity and continuum

Values relationships that do not terminate

with the termination of the purpose

Envisions the visible and perceives the invisible

Knows but doesn’t display

Absent-minded yet can change the mindset

Unpredictable, misunderstood, imperfect, disproportionate, limited

Mostly, ahead of time.

 

*********

 

In the beginning

Without form was everything

Contained in a space unperceived

The creator of form and visibility remained invisible.

 

*********

 

World of holograms

Give illusions of various forms

Illusions, so real

Even a virtual looks real

Be happy, remain inconclusive

Be a simulated hologram.

 

*********

 

This man lived in a remote village

Would go to village melas

All through the year to recite poems

A jewel in the dust this man was not

But had plenty of conviction and radiance of dreams

Poverty writ large on the face

But full of self-belief

Not once this man tried to sell poverty 

A true poet this man was.

 

*********

 

Filled with the urge to know and understand

A friend of mine desired to see himself beyond the self

Fate brought him closer to people

A blue-eyed academic

Became the darling of people

But not for long

In the melee of populist measures

He lost his voice

His theories remained bound in plans

Meant for a faraway future

One day an uneasy calm gripped him

Mainstream is not for him

Filled with the discontent of failure

My friend decided to return to the world he once belonged

No longer was he a part of that world

How can one lose shine so soon

My friend wondered and suffered

Quietly one day he went away

No one knows where

How the world immersed in myriad things

Can remember a forlorn and faded academic

Don’t be sad my friend

Times have changed

A wise is wise, academic or otherwise.

 

*********

 

I occupy three-fourths of the planet

Exist in three phases

Ordered, often a jumble of disorder

Float upon me

Shrink and expand

I am transparent, tasteless

Colourless, often unrecognizable.

Who am I?

 

*********

 

I want to go

Where to, God only knows

All spaces are filled

Time is flying

Present is becoming past

Future is so vast

I can't cling; seeking is painful

More I look for security, more I feel insecure

More I look for company, more I feel lonely

I am in flux

I am in search of fixity

I like to experience the world of senses and emotions

I like to experience the world of words and sounds

I want to sing. I want to flow. I want to discover.

I want to go to a place where thoughts cease and the mind opens

I want to go to a place that demands no explanation

I want to go to a place where time is a slave

I want to go to a place

God only knows where.

 

*********

 

A little bird, in search of a song

Goes to faraway places

Crosses oceans and mountains

Meets birds of different hues

One bird directs another

No one tells where available is the song

At last, the little bird finds a kind bird 

She advises the little bird to go to the east

There the little bird finds a warm island

Where flowing was beautiful music

At last the little bird finds the song of her homeland.

 

*********

 

Crafted to mask the ugliness

Open-ended were his designs

Not for sale or show

Made for someone special

Designs have no conscious content

Beholder’s faith is the only intent

 

The day the designer died

Mourners saw tears in her eyes

Argued a mourner, if Ganesha can drink milk

Why can’t she cry

Made of clay, synthetic she was not

The designer knew how to make clay alive.

 

*********

 

A game where despite the best legs

More important is a brain in order

Where faking love and hate is not easy

Where bad-mouthing is the only expression of admiration

Where humility is disguised arrogance

Where walking a straight line is not easy

Where the powerful think they only have the right to go wrong

Where one arrives when their absence is noticed

Where even a god has to earn his bread

A game you are happy when your truth survives.

 

*********

 

At time zero, when the Universe was not pregnant with life

A seed was needed for life to begin its journey

First cell was thus designed to divide and multiply

It tried to be better than what it was

Thus began the process of evolution

It brought chaos and disorder

To contain disorder and to maintain order

Nature made laws for the life to diversify

The well-scripted universe what we have 

A ‘Pale Blue Dot’

The only dot that has life.

 

*********

 

Taken plenty of snapshots

Memory space is almost full

Take the last shot

In normal light, with a normal lens

Not a tele, or a wide angle

And don’t forget

Too much flash spoils the shot.

 

*********

 

A cloned bird choked with facts

Can’t sing, can’t fly, can’t breathe

Dies, choked of facts.

 

*********

 

Mind moves like a river

From place to place

Takes the shape of the place where it flows

Vulnerable and sensitive

Wired for divergent thoughts

Quick associations and disparate situations

Navigates the tides of inconsistencies

Draws the map of an imaginary.

 

*********

 

In a little corner, this man lacks 'intellect'

Intellectual feigns to have

So easy to read him

Lives in a glass room

Not a go-getter, not an intruder

Not ahead, nor a laggard

Lives like a wandering ascetic

Simple he is,  ordinary he is not.

 

*********

 

Don't crate me

Don't clip my wings

I want to know

What freedom is

Teach me to sing

The songs of freedom.

 

*********

 

One night, a man, long dead, visited me

It was his birth anniversary

He sat on the podium, in front of his portrait

Delivered a talk

I asked, many of your experiments are failing

Overdue is the revision of your book

The ever-smiling man put his eyes straight into mine

Hopefully one day you will understand that I am still alive

Hopefully one day you will understand that my experiments have not failed

One day you will keep alive my experiments in newer contexts

It was time for me to wake up and conduct my experiments of truth.

 

*********

 

Some have the gift of visual imagination

For them even darkness holds light

They can see the light rising, spreading, resting

They can see sound turning into light

For some, eyes are happiest when shut

Blindness for some is a dark paradoxical gift.

 

*********

 

When I am in the rain

I am a part of the rain

When I am with you

I can feel your heartbeat

I float, deceptively

Like an iceberg.

 

*********

 

In the moments of silence, I listen more intently

In the moments of silence, my thoughts become more fertile

In the moments of silence, I feel elated, frustrated, distracted

In the moments of silence, I want to say many things

In the moments of silence, I can hear the sound of silence.

 

*********

 

She carries the burden of the universe

Her slender frame bents, weak shoulders fracture, back buckles

We do everything to lessen her burden

Except for getting off her back

It is a myth that tortoises bear the burden of the universe

But she is not a myth

She is a mother, a daughter, a wife, a sister

She is a woman.

 

*********

 

I have seen fire inside you

It needs to be kindled

Suddenly, there was light

It lit me

I began to see

I began to dream

I too shall spread light.

 

*********

 

In an ugliness contest

The unbeautiful fish was upstaged

First by a frog and then by a pig

Unrecognition made the fish unhappy

She was more beautiful than ugly, said the judges

She tried hard to become more unbeautiful

In her third attempt, she finally wins the ugliness pageant

She beats a monkey, a rat, and a bat

Famous designers design her dresses

More unbeautiful she became

The more she became the symbol of indecency

Soon the feeling of losing fame began to bother her

The thought of another celebrity sank her into a deep depression

The day she was uncrowned, she could not unwear

The trappings of fame gracefully

Soon she realised, everything has a time limit.

 

*********

 

Butterflies have no weight

They don't know how to fly straight

They know the value of leisure

They know the meaning of useful

They have a few moments to live but think that is enough

To bring sunshine into the lives of others

I wish for a beautiful butterfly in everyone’s life.

 

*********

 

Looking into the mirror I see

I am occupying three-fourth of the planet

Existing in three phases

I am ordered, often a jumble of disorder

Seeing myself floating

Shrinking and expanding

I am transparent, often colourless

I look like a bird from the woods

Often, a bird in a cage

My wings are clipped and I want to fly 

 

*********

 

As one grows old

One likes to flow

As one grows old

Grows a feeling of isolation, of leisure, of boredom

As one grows old

One discovers new dimensions

Nurtures neglected relationships

As one grows old

Utility assumes a new meaning

As one grows old

One becomes little forgetful

A little stubborn, little unreasonable

As one grows old

Imperfections look normal

As one grows old

Bruises last longer

As one grows old

One sees a river merging into an ocean.

 

*********

 

You are found in cloud shadows

You are seen in reflected moon

You can be heard in the last note of music

You are a bliss to the ignorant

You blur the sense of time

An optimist can hear your soft steps

Let me touch you before a cacophony engulfs you.

 

*********

 

The rising sun emerges with all its brilliance

Its dazzle can’t be contained by the clouds and eclipses

Possesses the power of protector

An undying fire from which exited a splinter

The splinter upon cooling gave rise to life

In the vast emptiness I wonder

What sustains the motion of the undying fire?

 

*********

 

Missing is an experience of separation

Some face it, some deny it

Missing has no meaning

If togetherness had no meaning.

 

*********

 

Selfies are becoming more significant than the self

Festivals are becoming photo sessions

Unsure of the memory pixels control

Bigger the processor, better the images are

Can there be a better processor that can see

Past, present, and future on a single frame.

*********

 

When there is no one to share happiness

No fantasies to share

No altitude to climb

No one to lead and no one to follow

It is time to walk alone with one's shadow.

 

*********

 

Travelling home on a sunny afternoon

Stopped at the nearby village

At the Chaywala, tea didn't taste like tea

There was no Dawakhana, no Pathshala

Few bekaar were loitering, rather aimlessly

My companion said nothing, simply looked around

Where one would not know

Some quiet moments passed

Then my companion said

 I want to live here

I asked, what will you do

He said I shall open a school

Let it not have marble

Let it have brick

I will do what I can

You will do what you can

I will teach and you will sing

We will tell the children

They are as good as they think they are

Will you be with me, my companion

I said I am always with you, my schoolmaster.

 

*********

 

You allure, you spring hope

You appear from a distance

You retreat when I come near you

You are virtual, a fatal falsity

You arise from the blue vista

You change silhouette

An alluring mirage you are

You are a desert's dream.

 

*********

 

A golden oldie

Takes me to my good old days

My taste buds might have refined

My mind may have jammed

Songs of yesteryears still ring in my ears

Meaningless are songs, unless laced with emotions

Surges anew the joys of yesteryears

When I hear the golden song

Tum na jaane kis jahan mein kho gaye.

 

*********

 

One is fertile; the other is barren

One is creative; the other is destructive

One gives the feeling of independence

Other gives the feeling of captivity

One can hear the silence of the voices

The other voices are noises

One reflects the richness of the self

Other portrays the poverty of the self

Where one senses the glory of solitude

Other experiences the pain of loneliness.

 

*********

 

He wants his younger son to be ordinary

His older son is a jewel in the crowns of others

He says, ordinaries remain, Kohinoors are stolen.

 

*********

 

One day in the art class

The teacher asked the children

To draw whatever they want to

Sitting in one corner our little angel began to draw

So engagingly was she drawing, the teacher asked

What are you drawing

GOD, said the little angel

God, you know how God looks like, the amused teacher asked

Wait for a minutes, the girl replied

You know how God looks like. .

 

 

Purest of the creative expressions

So deep are its virtues

A complete experience

It brings to the senses a sense of participation

It breaks monotony and gives company

It cleans the soul

Gives wings to imagination

Silence fills it

A connoisseur can hear its interspersed silences

Blessed are those born with music.

 

******

 

A wanderer, not certain, where to go

No travails to face, nothing to accomplish

Experiences time as it pleases him

Like the proverbial Janus he can see

The beginnings and the end

In the same frame of time

In the same vista of vision

A time traveller, always on the move

Unconcerned with the depth of time

Unnerved, by the expanse of space

Shall get trapped in ‘endless now’

The moment logs his time machine.