Why do genders cause a divide?

 

Why do genders cause a divide? 

The world,
Opened itself to one and all.
The puny accommodated, 
Mighty mellowed.
 
In this world, my friend and I
Lived in shanties close by.
Paddy fields all around us.
We walked, we ran, and pushed each other.
 
The village school two miles away
Beneath the peepal tree, the teacher sat.
We merrily gathered under the copious crown
Of the solitary peepal tree.
 
Care, friendship, and love filled the world.
The puny and the mighty
Selflessly caring for each other;
With no time to fight.
 
The weekends filled with fun and frolic
Bathing in that village pond
With water buffaloes all around.
Nice to live with friends abundant.
 
The village schooling soon ended
The nearness that guided her and me,
Hand in hand, for a decade, bottomed out.
And gone.
 
Like branches,
Moving away from its trunk
Togetherness widened further and beyond.
Defying friendship.
 
Why do genders cause a divide?
Puritan values not for men?
Only for women who live for men
To pawn their freedom and their might.
 
Abide by changes that come one’s way.
The world now a better place
Cleansed of all parochial thoughts.
Realize that men and women run the world.
 
The world,
Not men’s, not women’s.
Together one lives, and together one dies.
Basking in friendship we hold so dear. 

Seasons Four

Seasons Four

Spring, summer, autumn and winter
The floral spring, the sunny summer,
Cozy autumn and the forlorn winter.
Seasons four, for you and me.
 
For flowers in bloom
It is the spring that matters.
A few take to summer too.
Autumn and winter are not in their world.
 
Flowers in hues of orange and yellow,
Adorned the trees with ornate tiara.
Nature at its best but only for a while.
The flowers soon droop to sink to earth.
 
The earth now a flowery mosaic.
But gently the flowers are blown away.
Unsung into wilderness.
The floral rug soon disappears.
 
The honeybees would tell tales
Of flowers that lives but only for a day.
Seasons four, for you and me
But for the flower, it is just a day.
 
Flowers like friends are not forever.
The friendship cast in gold
Indispensable, but with time,
Dispensability is the theory bold.

My Mummy

 

Can you hear me mummy
I am sure you can
When you were here
You heard even what we did not say.
 
You thought we did not care for you
But we cared and wanted you,
To be with us a wee bit longer.
Hats off to my brother who nursed you till the very end.
 
Please take care of us from heaven above.
For a time will come
When we will be on bed
This time all alone, but hopefully we will meet you there.
 

The gown that changed my life

 

                     The walking trail would take me there
To the garden, before the lovers arrive
Bound in love in one another’s arms.
Oblivious of the world around.
 
Let me reach before the dawn
To relish
The chorus of sparrows and cuckoos.
Till the sun spreads its light into the day.
 
The puddles of water easy to wade
Bushes and shrubs all over the way
A thousand flies over my face
But my love for nature kept me going.
 
Rows of houses on either side
Some with a roof of leaves and twigs
Others with porticos open to sky.
And a couple of them two stories tall.
 
I hastened my steps towards the park
To wash myself in nascent rays
Of the breaking sun,
The golden light warmed my face.
 
Saw a silky cloud of verdant and gold, 
Descend like a parasol
Sliding from a terrace above
A whiff of freshly washed linen,
 
The silky gown with all its contours,
Landed on my face in the gentle breeze.
There is a message, I thought
To meet a damsel as pretty as can be.
 
I gathered the gown rushed up the stairs,
Two steps at a time, and rang the chimes
Kept waiting for minutes that felt like hours.
To meet the lady who fits the contours.
 
An angel stepped out.
Pretty and stunning.
There was no match in this land
As beautiful as this village belle.
 
I paused and thanked the gown,  
The gown that changed my life  
And gave me a reason to live  
With an angel then on.

Selflessly yours – a tree

 

Selflessly yours – a tree

Tree, cynosure of nature’s eyes
Standing tall amidst the woods
Or at the peripherals like a sentinel.
Living selflessly with head held high.
 
Lending its branches to birds and bees.
The canopy of twigs and the crown of leaves
Eveready to protect the earth
From torching sun and torrents of rain.
 
The tree lived on and on
For a hundred years, it still stood tall.
But not forever, for that day was soon to come.
When the roots give way.
 
The stress of a sentry is hard to handle,
As the earth beneath weakened,
Soil loosened, and the crown now heavier
And too big to hold.
 
The tree slowly leaned and slanted.
The earthly forces guiding all the way,
Leisurely at first,
Till it fell with a thud.
 
The earth around lamenting the fall
Of the motherly tree, an icon
That outlived so many
Giving succor to all.
 
Little did it know that even in death,
Its dead root, trunk and branches feed all
Orchids, ferns and cacti.
Termites, lichens, worms and caterpillars.
 
The selfless tree in life and death,
Regenerates a million lives
For a hundred years before it dies
And many decades thereafter.

 (A shoutout to the trees of Valparai, a hill station in the Coimbatore district of Tamil Nadu)

 

The Mirror

 

The Mirror

I looked into the mirror,
Then, as a tiny toddler.
From right behind the mirror
My sister mimed at me.
 
I stretched my hands to grasp,
And guide her to the fore.
It was nothing but blankness
For my sister was never there.
 
I then grew up
To know the mirror well.
It changes me for the better,
And moulds me to what I want.
 
The fairy in me kept whispering
Gauge your looks
Touch up your face,
Rouge your cheeks and redden your lips.
 
Believe in mirrors
For, there is never another friend,
Who can carve away a few years
To make me look the best.
 
The mirror on the wall
Beckons me closer.
Like an earnest friend
To guide and to transform.  
 
The mirror panders
In covering up the truth.
But it makes me feel good,
Like a steamed mirror wiped clean.
 
I look into the mirror
Just before I leave
For it makes me walk tall.
In a theatre or a mall.
 
I have a friend in a mirror
A friend I always need.
An alter ego to myself. 
The one I can never leave.

Flowers

Flowers

Flowers, in colours and shades
That mother plants can only shape.
Blossomed in all their glory.

The sight, a feast for one’s eyes.
 
An elixir of life, the flower,

A rose, a lily, a sunflower

Or even a frost flower.

Its silence means a thousand words.
 
A flower, by any name, is still a flower.

It lives, thrives, entices and then fades.
Stay a few days more,
The branches do not plead.
 
The flowers love their destiny.

Not a day more, not a day less.

Head held high and shining all the way.
Mending hearts.
 
Give a flower or take a flower

The fragrance exhilarates.

Love and emotions merge to shout. 

If nothing works give a flower.
 

 
Yellow, red or white

One night or another night,

Before the wind blows it away.

But no qualms, another day, another flower.

The Selfless candle

 The Selfless candle

A little white candle
With bright yellow flame
Lit up the alley.
And washed away its darkness.
 
The candle lived
Not forever but only for a while
Lightened the world till
It burnt itself into oblivion.
 
Light a thousand candles
Make the world a brighter place.
For a few hours, the candle lives
It lives to wipe off darkness.
 
The candle that lived with pomp
Burnt out and died unsung
That doesn’t matter
For it lived to remove darkness.
 
Be like a candle
Impart goodness till one’s life ceases.
Worry not on how long one lives.
It’s the life like a candle that matters.
 

Give me back my village

Give me back my village

I returned to my roots,
A village where I grew up.
But I couldn’t see the village,
For that village is now lost.
 
Never again to re-emerge.
To what it was six decades back.
The trees, the shrubs and the beaten paths
And the canopy of greens, a sight unmatched.
 
I searched for the place where the village was.
The landmark rock I couldn’t find.
The rivulets flowing disappeared,
No sign of the village where I grew up.
 
The whiff of air that invigorated us
Now was thick with a rancid smell.
I looked around for the coconut palms,
None were there except a dried-out stump.
 
The lush green village is now a jungle,
Not with trunks, stems and leaves,
But with buildings of iron and cement
Packed like a stack of cards.
 
Meadows, fields and hillocks
Levelled and cleaned
Without even a blade of grass.
Valleys flattened and rivulets filled.
 
No more birds, no more bees,
No more monkeys, no more peacocks.
The chirping of sparrows and cooing of cuckoos,
All fell into silence as the new world took over.
 
The bullock carts and horse carts
Leisurely treading on beaten paths, now no more.
It is motor cars and trucks
Zipping through the highways.
 
Give me back my village
The village where I grew up,
Let me tread on beaten paths,
To breathe a whiff of fresh air.

A dream – back in time

 

A dream – back in time 

The wall clock ticking away
Like a heart pounding on a speaker.
I raced back in time
Heedless of the time ticking by.
 
My memory raced backwards.
Then paused.
At the red grilled gate.
Leading to the school.
 
The kindergarten
Livid with shouts and cries
Nursed the seeds of life to sprout
And grow into a tree with branches sublime.
 
The school, then the world of mine,
Like stars, the children shine
Some with faces wry, some with smiles.
In their midst, I still to decide.
 
Days entwined in the mysteries of life.
I gazed around then fixed my eyes
On the bright red ribbons and
Well kempt hairs. 
 
A mosaic in all its colours
Children in their pristine uniforms
Beaming with excitement.
Their innocence reflected all over. 
 
The school bell woke me.
From the dream - short but sweet
The dream, that I would trade,
For a thousand days.