Jhapkara Magazine

Sunshine

2011-11-13T13:06:00.001+05:30

- Gurpreet Singh Rana

Whose country is this, such greenery, such abundance such bounty
Flowers so beautiful, how diligently the waters perform their duty
The mountains, the wilderness beckons, the sunshine increases beauty

A sage comes forth, speaks, “This is my country which I adore and cherish
This is the country which my ancestors and my peers have longed to flourish
The worst fears of my heart have come true; I don’t want my country to perish”

Frowning and murmuring, distressed and bending on his stick he went
Gave me a sad feeling, spoilt my excursion, an unnecessary fear he lent
Madman is he, thought I, why should I spoil my holiday, which is all I meant.

But hark, what sounds do I hear, of bombs, guns, bullets and explosions
People roam the streets with daggers, are these real men with no emotions
A group went by shouting, carrying black flags and creating commotion.

Eye for an eye, bloodshed, revenge, where are our rights they mouthed
Hijack planes, burn buildings, kill detractors was what everybody touted
Weapons we have, not to worry, we will snatch the governance they shouted.

A loud explosion sounded along the end of the street, colour of it became red
A suicide squad struck someone shouted, run for your lives for more we dread
People ran frantically, uniformed men shouted looking for injured and dead

I looked along with horror; a mound of bodies lay with their limbs seared
Something familiar I saw, a stick on the street and a bent back smeared
Lay there the sage I had encountered, taking his last breath he appeared.

Thus he spoke his dying words, “Where is the peace, the brotherhood, the sunshine
From where came these separatists and the militants, these people are not mine
Clouds of fear have shrouded my country and long gone is the much adored sunshine.”

Breezy Benevolence

2011-11-05T20:39:00.001+05:30

- Rosie Mann

A gentle breeze
brings for me
sweet perfume,
this time
from citrus blooms.
A moment
of dismay
at my inability
to capture it
forever
but then
I inhale
deeply....deeply..
while it lasts
treasuring it
for eternity.
Having imparted
fragrance
and
a lesson
the zephyr
moves on....

THE GOLDEN WOMB

2011-10-30T16:10:00.001+05:30

- Yayati Madan G Gandhi

(i)
I was there earlier than the heaven,
earlier than the earth;
the yeast of fecund waters,
my seed primeval conceived the gods.

Out of billowy deeps trekking out
in space-time infinite,
projecting worlds upon worlds
at various levels of manifestation,
the one indivisible essence,
the rhythm of seemingly fragmented words.

(ii)
The fair-winged being,
the sole light of intelligence,
the fire in seers and bards,
the self-emanating effulgence.

The bestower of cosmic intelligence,
the clarifier of marks of distinction
to separate and classify
various levels of being.

The mediator between gods and men,
the fire in the sun
that build up, destroys—
the moving flame in all things.
Giver of life to rocks and stones,
the demiurge of existence,
the fragrance of spring,
the order of perfection.

(iii)
Unfurl celestial waters,
weave the mosaic of space,
blow through the void
the breath.

As the one ineffable essence
running through specks and spheres,
the all-bounteous intelligence,
shapes the waters of space,
globes and galaxies,
and makes them dance to her tune.

(iv)
In appointed courses
firm-fixed by gravitational embrace
whirl and swirl
in depths celestial
the steps of dance
of the cosmic romance.

(v)
Under your direction
the whole show runs.
The womb primeval,
the mother to suns and moons.

(vi)
The golden womb
wherein everything has its being.
Gleans cosmos from chaos,
creates order in the world.
The Mother.
To your lap all return.
In the infinite roll of time
you fold the mystery sublime.

(vii)
The celestial virgin,
the womb of luminous space,
birthing universes of becoming.

The cosmic axis
of fathomless spheres,
the celestial matrix
shaping countless creations.

Sea and Sand

2011-10-16T12:10:00.001+05:30

- Rosie Mann

Till sea longs for shore
and shore calls to sea ,
their separation shall be .
Lost in joy-pain of craze
lost to each other's ways ,
both keep distance in place .
Unaware of a consummate tranquillity ,
unqualified , ageless simplicity ;
no farness , no longing ,
no sorrow , no glee ;
where sea is sand
and sand is sea .

Turbaned Sikh’s Reminder to France

2011-10-15T23:46:00.001+05:30

-(Late) Dr. M.S. Rahi

From a small island, Bonaparte came,
When passions were high.
---No more kings,
‘Liberty, Equality, Fraternity’,
Was the loud cry.
In his army uniform,
He was, what a small fry.
Ambitious he was,
Like Alexander the Great,
He wanted to go very high.
Once on the top--‘Stop this drama of revolution’
He thundered,
‘France needs a powerful emperor’,
He told the disillusioned French guy.
Selling the dream of a big French Empire,
Hungry and half clad French,
He took far and wide.
Many of them died,
On the vast Russian snowy desert,
And the rest saving themselves,
Took to back flight.
Russian adventure had misfired.
And lastly, Bonaparte failed them,
At the Waterloo fight.
He surrendered, to whom once he called,
‘A nation of shopkeepers’, with a great pride.
France was never the same again.
The republic is good or monarchy,
The French failed to decide.
Uncertain times went on.
But after almost a century,
Paris was in danger of being over-run
By a big neighbour,
Then the same nation,
With turbaned Sikhs, came to their side.
Sikhs fought with their unusual bravery,
And from another humiliation
Saved the French honour and pride.
Now, in the changed scenario,
World has become a global village,
And civilization has taken a long stride.
In the 21st century, Does it behove
France to rob the helpless people of
Their basic human rights ?
Forgetting its Voltairs and Sartres,
And dogmatically following the direction
To the opposite side.

Some loners some lonely ...them all with me !

2011-10-08T21:34:00.001+05:30

-Charanjit Singh Chandhok

The waters the sky
heavenly the feel
there’s the moon
there’s star each..

Live soul form
a lonely bird
so too one
a form human..

Lonely each feeleth
no blemish no ill
pure heart each
a lonesome thought..

I thought at times
was lonesome me
and I did wonder
was it just me..

Fathom I do now
I fathom it all
no am not alone
them all with me..