Experiencing Unknowingly

Gibberish

2020-06-17T19:30:00.000+05:30

You talk sense,
I sense only the gibber.
Words and words, words and words.
I am listening to you, ain't I?
Yet I hear only the words,
Words upon words only the words.
Brushing aside the naivety
I carefully listen to you
Yet you sound only the words,
Words and words, words upon words, only the words.

इंटरनेट

2020-01-15T23:25:00.000+05:30

असीम है इंटरनेट, बेचारा आज़ाद नहीं
अनंत है इंटरनेट, कहीं भी आबाद नहीं।
बेहद होकर इंटरनेट, बंधा तो है कहीं
हद से बाहर गया, बडे साहब को बर्दाश्त नहीं।
खेले चाहे इंटरनेट सरकारी आंगन में ही कहीं,
आंगन लांघने की इजाज़त अब तक इसे नहीं।
महाकाय जाला जो इंटरनेट है तो सही,
सरकारी जाले में कहीं उलझा तो नहीं?

जन जन में, दुर्गम वन में, खड़खड़ाती रेल में, लड़खड़ाती बस में, पृथ्वी पर खींची हर एक नस में
ये इंटरनेट जो फैलता है,
दूर - पास के, जाती - पाती के, भाती - भाती के
हर उपभोक्ता में बिना भेद के, समान माप में बट जाता है।
सरकार के फर्मानी टूर्रे पर, फिर भी मगर
पलक झपकते ही दुनिया से कट जाता है।

दफ्तर में जाकर इंटरनेट डाकिया हो जाता है
दुनियाभर के खुफिया डाक अपने कंधो पर लाता है।
शिकायत, सिफारिश चुटकी में उस पार भिजवाता है,
भड़कायेगा दंगा ये खौफ साहब को जताता है।
सरकारी दफ्तर में मगर इंटरनेट साँस ले कब पाता है?
बड़े साहब के अंगूठे के नीचे चुपचाप बेचारा दब जाता है।

बटोर के सारी कायनात से ज्ञान
फूंकता इंटरनेट अधमरो में जान
वरना जो न पाते कभी सम्मान
अब बनाते है अपनी खुदरंग पहचान।
स्वावलंबी इंटरनेट बनाता तो है, लेकिन
खुद ही रहता सरकारी मर्ज़ी के अधीन।

हरेक पल है फैल रहा जैसे जले मशाल से मशाल
पलक झपकी, बून गए लक्ष लक्ष जाल
साल दर साल बढ़ती जाती इसकी मजाल,
है इंटरनेट जो इतना विशाल,
तो एक आदेश पर क्यों पड़ जाता अकाल?
साहब आँख दिखाए, क्यों सहम जाता भूजाल?

God?

2020-01-01T22:45:00.000+05:30

They say you are the whole,

And in everything you blend,
That you are the means and you the goal
And only you'll prevail after the mighty end.

They say you're the painter divine
Painting on a canvas truly infinite
With your drawings so complete, fine
Smashing colours with your gracious light.

Also that you bind us all in an illusion
And only you'll set our souls free
Leading to your and our fusion,
For you dwell in all even in me.

You are the soil they say and the rainy day,
You the bushes and the deer.
That you are the lion earning its prey
And the hyena feasting leftover,
You are the microbes on bones which lay.
Again then you're the earth and the shower.

Why then, am I not pulled by the gravity of your grace,
Why aren't you the force that I can't resist?
Perhaps they define you in the wrong place
Or perhaps you are only the names that don't exist.

Penned on December 30, 2013

एक और सोलह दिसंबर

2019-12-27T17:59:00.000+05:30

एक और सोलह दिसंबर आया है ज्योती।
इस साल तुम तीस बरस की होती।
शादी की बात तुम्हारे घर भी चलती,
नोक झोंक, तानो बनो में शाम तुम्हारी भी ढलती।

मगर अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।
होकर आज देखती भी तुम क्या!
उस रात से इस रात तक बदला भी है कुछ क्या!
है आज भी वो सोच जो बाँट दे तुम्हारे चुनावों को अच्छे और बुरे में,
है आज भी वो नज़रे जो डराए घने अंधेरे में,
धुंदलाती ज्योती सनक के कोहरे में।
मोमबत्तियां सारी बुझ भी गयी,
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।

हाँ तुम बेबाक कल भी थी, आज भी होती
दिल्ली की सर्दीली रात में मुनिरका से बस में चढ़ भी जाती
मगर आज भी क्या तुम घर लौट पाती?
है आज भी वो सवाल जो पूछते तुम्हे है ऐसी क्या विपत्ति जो इतनी रात गए तुम घर से बाहर रहती।
इस अपाहिज सवाल का जवाब तुम आज भी न देती,
हां मगर इस सवाल की घुटन को तुम आज भी सहती।
करती क्या जब मांगी जाती रसीद इजाज़त की
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।

शहर से दूर किसी दोस्त से इश्क़ का जो इजहार करती,
चीखते, चिल्लाते, तुम्हारी ओर बढ़ते झुंड से क्या नहीं डरती?
जाहिल भीड़ को तुम कैसे संभालती,
अपनी ज़िन्दगी से दफा होने को कैसे कहती?
अदब की हदों में लिपटी बेचारी आज़ादी
जहा भीड़ ने कहा मर जाती वहीं।
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।

आज़ाद तो तुम बेशक होती
पर "वो" रेखा क्या आज भी लांघ पाती?
तुम्हारे साहस की मिसाल अविरत दी जाती
फिर भी तुम्हारी रक्षा मर्द ही के हात होती।
आबरू की बोझ में रहती दबकर कहीं
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।

तुम 'ना' कहती ये है तो सही
मगर तुम्हारे 'ना' में रोकने की मजाल आज भी नहीं।
खड़ी रहती तुम आज भी वही
देख तुम्हे किसी मर्द के साथ, करते हस हस के बात
मान ली जाती तुम वस्तु वहीं।
तुम्हारे सारे आज़ादी कि वे, करके गुठली थूकते कहीं।
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं।

सोलह दिसंबर की उस रात के बाद
तकरीरें हुई, कानून बदले, अदालतें बनी,
होता ही रहता मगर फिर भी वही,फिर से वही, बार बार वहीं।
अच्छा ही है ज्योती जो आज तुम नहीं, जो आज तुम नहीं।

एक कवयित्री

2018-03-19T21:59:00.000+05:30

एक कवयित्री, एक शेतकरी

दोहोंत अंतर जाणावे किती?

कवयित्री जाणे पीडा शेतकरी

दुःखाचे त्याच्या बोचरी कविता करी.

अवकाळी पावसाचे नभ दाटून येता

कवयित्री मना हर्ष होई,

भिजूनी पावसात असीम आनंद घेई;

शेतकरी टपोऱ्या गारपिटीचे सोटे खाई.

कवयित्री त्यास लिहे "लढू, मागू नुकसान भरपाई".

कवयित्री अन् शेतकरी दोहोंत अंतर किती!

ढग कवयित्री, शेतकरी माती.

Mismatch

2017-09-27T15:12:00.000+05:30

The dogs have gone blind and deaf and dumb
Except,of course,the Labradors some.
They have lost the gourmet taste;
With pigs they feed on the waste.

The small towns can no more sustain
The growing ambitions, thousands of ten.
Poor towns! They have so been abandoned;
What mishap! The child is too heavy for the mother's lap.

Searching, the dogs have marched long,
Ending, where they don't belong.
Have they smelt it wrong?
For the abundance and appetite grow along.

The dogs are fed the hunger
Putting their wisest senses to slumber.
And those awake cannot sense
For the fog around has never so been dense.

The fog also makes sound
Sound upon sound only the sound.
Deaf them see the sound,hear only the sound
Neither the noise nor the melody around.

Wings to the lions,canines to the mice;
Air and water packed at a price.
Another tidy mismatch in disguise.
Why would the barking dogs chirp otherwise?

The Circus

2016-08-20T22:55:00.000+05:30

A large round shaped tent, the big&bold iron-made letters welded on an iron board glowing one after the other and then all at once to flash the name- 'Welcome to the Great Golden Circus'; a rather small queue facing a window made of longitudinal iron bars cut wonderfully in a square,which facilitated the movement of hands exchanging money and tickets, reminded significantly of the circus-days when I was no more than a child.

Circus had its own popular significance then. The jokers, the tigers and the lions, the elephants, horses and never before seen well groomed dogs. People would be fascinated when it usually landed in the city in the period between near-end of summer and near-start of rains. We used to bypass our routes returning home from school hoping to get a glimpse of the caged tiger and lions. We however got to see only the bamboos and iron-rods being erected on a large 'maidan'. We idly stood there watching their preparations,glibly blustering how the year's circus would be more grand than the previous ones. Ah! Time used to be lazy then. We had all the time in the world.

A few days back I happened to visit the circus with my maternal uncle's children. They had the enthusiasm, I had the curiosity. I got the tickets. A few steps in the tent, the doors separated the three classes of ticket owners - expensive,less expensive and still lesser expensive. I, of course belonged to the latter class. When I had been to the circus for the very first time, I belonged to the same class. I remember of suggesting my father that it could've been a greater fun if we were to sit in the first row. I vividly remember his reply which had a lasting impression. He said, "Remember if any of the elephants goes wild, it would trample those sitting in the expensive first row. And God forbid, if the elephants fart, it won't be a problem for us".

The show started after about 15 minutes of welcome and the introduction of the team in a non-uniform voice. It went on with the bass- less symphony music to the company of gymnastics,acrobatics and thrilling acts. Believe me, it held nerves not even for a second. The jugglers played with usual combinations. They failingly tried to be creative in their limited space. The acts were spaced randomly, I presume.

The jokers sprinkled some laughter in the usual mocking manner filling the space. Jokers to the circus are similar to what players are to any game. Back then we used to encounter jokers in the grocery stores and the markets of the city. We were so amazed by their way that we imitated them at our schools. A short man with half pant upto knees and extra loose shirt with flowery patches amused us and made us laugh at him. He had to his company a team of similarly dressed midgets. Later I came across a memoir of a circus-joker which took me backstage acquainting with the pain they carry. I often wonder how they forget all else and become cynical only to make people laugh at their foolish acts. They indeed manage very well to be responsible fools.

The other performers,too used to be so filled with energy that they literally would lighten up the tent. They thrilled us, they amazed us and they held us in awe. The magician and his beautiful female partners were icing on the cake.

These days the show is on the decline. Performers fail to even pump the excitement, leave alone thrilling the audience. Children are nowadays so exposed to the electronic media that they find the acts mundane. They say that they have seen most of that rather more than that on televisions and Internet. I also saw some people shooting the event on their mobile phones. These clips would be circulated perhaps, people would know what they were about to see. It was very disheartening to see some groups busy clicking selfies even during the performance. One even got closer to the centre stage only to get himself clicked as the performance went on. Circus or for that matter any public show indeed finds it difficult to breathe among such audience.

As I said I had the curiosity, I went backstage after the show to have a chat with the performers. They ranged from little, agile girls aged somewhere around 15 to a old man aged over 50. I first encountered a group of jokers. I talked to them. They were serious when asked about their backgrounds and families. They were reluctant to speak up. Also I didn't dig any further. I couldn't make them comfortable to talk more.

I then met a group of girl performers. I didn't have the questionnaire,so I asked them random questions. "We've never come to the city earlier", one said. "The city's better than our country" the other foreign girl added. "Our families don't expect anything", a girl rudely remarked. Those were the adolescent girls as was evident from their appearances. What were they? How did they land here? Were they abandoned? Were they trafficked? I don't know. I didn't have the courage to ask them. I couldn't shrug off the thoughts and imaginations. I hope they didn't have to go through the murky ways which often undermine the human dignity.

There's no doubt that the circus has not evolved and transformed itself. It faces serious challenges - technological, financial and cultural. I would therefore not be surprised if I find a joker someday at the grocery store who, upon questioning "where to?", replies, "To the home" instead of "To the Circus".

The Skyscraper

2016-05-31T18:53:00.000+05:30

I am a fat, tall building.
They call me skyscraper.
May be because the sky rests on my terrace.
I see all from here.

On both my sides are the two ambitious buildings
Climbing on their floors to match me.
They bear so many lives,so many windows
All identical, all peeping into each other.

A bridge runs at angles to me
Beneath the bridge, runs an old murky river.
The river stinks all the time.
Nevertheless it always flows.

Along its bank runs a snaky road
Emulating the bank.
It teems with vehicles and noise
Breathing the smoky air.

A little further across the road, where settles the dust
Many shanties have found their homes.
The people in these look at me with disgust;
They look up at me till their necks break.
Then they look down and spit.
I fear them.
I fear if someday a stone is hurled at me.

Just beside the colony of shanties
A common toilet is always busy.
Beside that a fat concrete drainage pipe
Carries the dark water and spits in the river.

Up here from the top
I see an abandoned banner frame
Through that rusty frame I see at distance
The trees are waving among themselves.
Those are green, I guess.
Farther I see another of my siblings as I see them around.

I think the owners have finally made their mind.
They are firm.
They'll soon start the work.
I'll again tell you what I see from another two floors higher.

The Recrudescence

2016-05-11T12:38:00.000+05:30

I write this like always
with the dried cotton boll
sitting under a lone mango tree,
braving the cruel summer's roll.

You always need to be called, don't you?
What happened the previous year?
You didn't come to see me;
nor did you bother to care for the children,
not even for the ones expecting you.

Also the other year when you played foul,
the Bt lost its cool
and drank up all the waters from our soils.
You know all, don't you?
Yet you don't budge.

Remember the days your songs flooded me
and the days you deserted me.
You've become so hard to guess,
yet when you appear you fill us with the virgin scent of our soils.

When you are not around though,
I keep you in my eyes,
sometimes flowing from them
and the other times drying them up.

Come out of our eyes, O rain, stamp your presence;
our eyes are all looking for your recrudescence.

An Adjuration

2013-12-30T09:27:00.001+05:30

You come from the mountains
Prancing and flaunting, sparing few.
With eyes closed and chin high
I shall await you.

You just twirl fingers in my hair
And I shall know you have come.
Then you hold me as we shall stare
And kiss the tune that lips shall hum.

You grip me in a tender embrace
And amorously flood me with you,
As I shall fill you more in me
And breathe with you.

Come soonest, O dear wind, gently
With your moist chill to play over me.

One Small Latch

2013-12-01T21:13:00.001+05:30

On that cold winter night
They slept sound with blanket and shawl
With no any reason for fright,
Knowing little the night would change all.

The winds blew cold and dry
And night held the silence dark.
Yet the dacoits entered the villa with an easy try
Hushing up the labrador before it even barked.

Daughter and mother were woken by a fray
Only to note what was being stolen
And to watch all being carried away
Calmly and peacefully at just a point of gun.

Gulped a bandit the fire rampant
Burning his conscience, compassion and fears.
The blaze spread further violent
That'd be quenched only by the daughter's tears.

The brigands dragged her to a room
Leaving mother in shock and fright.
They were trampling a flower yet to bloom
And were sabotaging a figure slight.

They savagely hit her, bit her, gagged her
And on her their lechery was descending.
They pushed her, pulled her, strangled her,
Fouled her as if to mar a pleasing painting.

Mother out gathered all the shattered emotions
And rushed to the latched door.
She knocked, thumped, hammered
And tried to ram the door.
Then for pity did she plead
But all in vain for the mother poor.

Mother unified all courage, ire and grit
Though she was none their match.
She wanted to squelch them under feet,
But alas! all was locked by one small latch.

The Gale

2013-10-02T15:18:00.001+05:30

Neither the waters rippled
Nor the earth thumped.
None saw it coming from horizon,
None heard its drums.

Vehemently the storm does hit
And raises the waters high
To gobble up all gloomy and lit,
Alive and dead, truth and lie.

After the strike passes away
Snuffing out the watery flare,
More entangled the branches lay
And silent tumult fills the air.

All the gale is but in my mind
And out it is as calm as ever.

An Unstable Mind

2013-08-28T20:56:00.000+05:30

Just a moment ago it was far there
And now, well, it's in the poem here.
It tramped with Tagore for a moment

And now with the onus of Donne is it bent.

Just now it was bathing in the sun,

Then it strolled on mountains at horizon

Where from it dived in river and swimming,

It's back here at window, peeping.

Just a while ago counting stars was blithe

And now it's slept caring none for sheath.

Ah! it was in dreams of fame,

How then does it wake so lame?

Sometimes it does want relation

And at other it prefers isolation.

Sometimes evil it hosts

And at other the benevolence it boasts.

A moment ago it was gripped by fears

And now look what courage it bears.

Just a while ago did it seem to think

And now it does in vacuum sink.

Then it backed Marx with support grand

And now behind Locke it does stand.

Then it rode on the eagle in sky

And now it flies the dove high.

At a moment it does hound

And at the other it finds around.

But alas, it only appears to have been found,

For to so clusters is it bound.

Just a moment ago it held the reins firmly

And now it is set loose and free.

How can such unstable mind so simply

Yearn Nirvana, enlightenment and epiphany?

Sound and stable should mind be,

For it wanders even under the Bodhi.

A Quagmire

2013-08-12T13:39:00.001+05:30

'I see you sinking
As the earth gulps you in with mercy less,
But none help can I bring
For alone we both seem at this place.

'Eluding me you ran to the mire
Whilst I watched and stood frail.
'You perhaps were appealed by the delusive attire
Or to hold you firm I did fail.'

Lamented more one half, 'This quagmire
Thrilled you amid placid beauty
Which beneath water bears ravaging fire
That drowns all with none pity.'

The other half puled, 'The cold in here chills my blood,
Marching through veins softly annexes my mind
And locks the feet deep in mud,
Further which enfeebles and turns me blind.

'To get off I have will no less;
I push, I try but all in vain.
'Fate alas, whatever I face,
I'll be with you albeit as stain.'

A Journey

2013-07-27T16:18:00.002+05:30

Look how Sun and dark clouds play for realm
How the soft moist breeze kisses the cheek.
Look how pleasance does whelm.
Come, let us bathe in the drizzle sleek.

Let us get to a place where
Valleys are lost in the mist,
From where the echoes of mountains blare,
Where the winds roar and trees brandish.

Let us adorn our ears
With the tinkles of the gentle water flowing.
Let us fill our minds with fears
Of the rush of mighty water falling.

Let us get lost in thick deep haze
To let birds' whistles pave the way.
Let us then climb more to hold dark clouds in an embrace.
Then on that peak insouciantly we'll lay.

Let the rain slap our face,
Let in it drenched our hearts be,
Let in us the cold incur with all it's grace.
Then we'll sip in some hot tea.

Far from our daily mundanity

Let us make a journey,
The joy of which lies in the arrival
To hear the taps of same rain on our roofs.

Void Roars

2013-07-11T11:33:00.000+05:30

Dark clouds only gather
But they do not pour
For they are afraid rather
Of the deluge that'll fore.

The chatak hovers hoping for drops,

The scorched land longs for a embrace,
The dried trunks ask mortgaged green robes.
None as well wants nothing less.

But Lord Indra stultifies them all
For he ostentatiously holds the anchors
Commanding clouds not to fall
And thus they fear his wrath.

Dark clouds indeed when pour
Have the might to break all wrath

And ouster all with reign no more,

But perhaps they fear the bitter aftermath.

Sympathizers

2013-07-05T19:17:00.002+05:30

Coming to you, your compassion they shake
And spread their lives to beg.

Twitching them but you leave,

Because sympathy is what we can give.

You see her ruled, you see her raped;

You see her weep with fear gaped.

She asks her place where humans live,
But sympathy is what we can give.

You scoff at them as to you they amuse;
You know hijras only upto an abuse.

Hoping equal eyes they look at you,

But sympathy is what we can give.

You look at all with counter disgust,

Bearing lorn despair none you trust.

You hope reform but a step not you heave

Because sympathy is what we can give.

At lack of the words

2013-07-04T18:09:00.000+05:30

When I wake on the hands of dawn

And hear the twitters of the birds

On the nests gleaming in the golden streaks,

O dear poem, I am at lack of the words.

When the rainbow colours the sky

As the sun peeps through dark clouds,

On the colours seven does this soul fly

Setting the words of you, sweet poem, in bounds.

When I see the rove of butterflies

Borrowing colours from buds

And flying in the noon sun to entice

Then good poem, I am at lack of the words.

When I see the might of flaunty water

And watch all flush in the sabotaging floods.

When I see the plight of all that scatter

My mind sobs leaving me at lack of the words.

Amongst this when my heart leaves

And with voids my mind muds;

When seeking towards ultimacy it heaves,

O dear poem, I am at lack of the words.

Gone With The Winds

2013-06-30T10:51:00.000+05:30

Flown away with the plans of winds and time,

I want the kite that was mine.

Both the sides bled to red,

I was on which side of shed?

All they did remained a mystery,

What they didn't was written as history!

Let the light be more bright,

Allow the truth be more right!

Head that holds the crown should rule the world,

Why 'The Straight' has gone, so curled?

They cuffed his blood covered hands.

Tides went wild to wipe the sand!

Before someone gets it to fly,

I want to give it back to sky!

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Courtesy: Vaibhav G. Bhoyar
Contact: vgb3333@gmail.com

The Artist?

2013-05-02T18:49:00.001+05:30

How kind must He be
To bestow upon us the passion of art
That occurs so rare and scarce plainly
For all of it burgeons from heart.

My art lets me wear the person,
Bear the emotions that he carry.
It lets many a mind abode in one
All of which beatify me.

Reigning the stage steps fear
Ceases all before a start,
Filling then the soul it does tear
Vehemently and kill my art.

Dreaming I climb up on the stage
And I act caring none the fall.
To the climax we edge
Then I raise the hand and feel the applause.

मनोरुग्नगत..!

2013-04-24T14:41:00.004+05:30

दूर दिसला समुद्र जिथपर्यंत

समजली दुनिया फक्त तिथपर्यंत.

उशिरा कळले पलिकडचे जग

पडल्यावरच समजले हेही मग.

डोळ्यांनी पाहतांना आले शहारे

ओरडणे बिरडणे जुनेच सारे.

आज लागली विहिरीला तहान

मुतून नेते झाले महान.

पापांचे घडे दुथडी भरून

लाज शरम गेली मरून.

पानगळी कधी थांबलीच नाही

एकच ऋतू बारापण माही.

रोगं झाला मनाला काही

चिकित्सका नाडी उमजलीच नाही.

सौजन्य: वैभव भोयर.
संपर्क : vgb3333@gmail.com

Lost

2013-03-31T10:47:00.000+05:30

I curse that fateful night
When I was hit on the head
By some psychopaths spreading fright
And looted me to make the bread.

I woke at a place in a wondering fold
Asking what I was and how that pain.
A mortal cool in white coat told
That for mere span short the memory can I regain.

Ever since then I feel the escape from mind
Of the thoughts, the people, the memories and the rhyme
And the rove for a better mind if they find
To leave me as the one lost in time.

I am a lost bird with a wing
Having flight hedged by a fence.
I can sense the knowledge deserting
But I hope at home the wisdom remains.

Here now, dears, I bid farewell
And allow me to be across.
For now I retrieved without fail
To pen a poem that recites my loss.

A Bond

2013-03-29T19:34:00.000+05:30

When our bond bears freedom
Of the ways I choose to become.
When my mind feels light
In opening my heart without fright.
When we speak through silence
And the words true and dense.
When I have nothing to prove
Out of the good and bad I do.
When I laugh with you; when I cry with you
Albeit miles away I live.
When my heart bears no envy
And unfeignedly it dances to your song merry.

When we grow strong as our sands slip
Then, my friend, there blooms friendship.

The Deserted Block

2013-03-17T11:34:00.000+05:30

On sunny sunday morning in hostel
Absent was water and all unwell.
I cursed whole world as I woke from bed
With some livid, lorn faces made.

So as to complete the inevitable morning chores
A friend and I searched other blocks
For the traces if any we get
And landed at a block where search did abate.

The block was indeed water laden
And mere thought of bath made us insane.
Unfortunately but we had only one bucket
So I looked around another if I get.

To abutting room I went and knocked,
The door flung open as was unlocked.
The room was dark with only a candle lit
Where I saw a boy scribbling on a paper sheet.

I asked, 'May I borrow your bucket?';
'Yes sure', he said, 'but to return don't you forget.'
He looked not back whilst he talked,
Silently then closing the door out I walked.

I finished the bath while the friend kept on,
Waterless period was then long gone.
'Finish it off', I said, 'till I return the pail
'To the same boy who looked frail.'

'What pail, what boy?', he asked coming out
With his face evincing grave doubt.
'I got this pail', I replied, 'in the next room
'From the boy writing in the gloom.'

'My goodness! So what I hear is true', said friend,
'The story thus has no end.
'Many years ago the boy you saw was stabbed in lone
'By the reasons and culprits unknown.'

'The boy was seen a year later.
'So to desert the block they predicted better.
'Hitherto, I disbelieved them
'For the stories made were idle and lame.'

My body shuddered and numb went the mind,
Unknowingly I prayed God to be kind.
The friend then hastily did trail
As I hied out alongwith the pail.

Benediction

2013-03-13T12:35:00.001+05:30

When my voice sprouts from the honest fields
And has no covers of untrue shields;
When it bears the melodies polite
That shed the ire from the roots right.

When my words arise from the mind fearless
And form the unostentatious, true phrase
That care none for applause
Of the ones close or across.

When my thoughts are moulded by gradual reason
That have no mantle of egotism.
When they are sacred adorned with peace
Like a dew on the moist cool breeze.

When my touch desires nothing
And without envy does it cling.
When it is capable to heal
And turn into good my ill.

Only then, my Lord, I'll worship my poems to thee.