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.