Sunday, January 17, 2010

Memorable firsts

(My trip to the world HQ of ISKCON in Mayapur in class 8 marked me for life, and before I knew it, God became a part of my system.)

You are not alone (1998)

He dwells in your heart,
He stays in your mind.
You are not alone,
Believe him, he is kind.

He is in giving,
He resides in sharing,
You are not alone,
Trust him, he’s caring.

In times when you’re distressed,
With no one around,
You are not alone,
With God you are bound.

In this unkind world,
Do not hide your face,
For you are not alone,
On you is God’s grace.

A gift from the Almighty (1998)

The dawn is full of blossoms,
The morning full of sunshine,’
A smiling day welcomes,
Magic in it, is indeed thine.

A shiny, pearly dewdrop,
Beset upon a shaky leaf,
With wonder does my breath stop,
And heart with joy does leap.

A pretty, little butterfly,
Goes fluttering flower to flower,
The chirping bird goes flying high,
On me delight does shower.

The stars from sky begin to peep,
The sun goes drowning low,
The moon awakens from its sleep,
The earth is bathed in moonlight glow.

For the marvels of Mother Nature,
And for his abundant love,
On earth does every creature,
Thank our creator in heaven above.

(I shared these with my friends and teachers and before I knew it, there were requests coming my way to write poems to put up on the notice boards and recite in assemblies. On several occasions, when the boards and the classrooms had to be decorated, the class poet was summoned.)

India today (1998)

The situation in India is tense today,
The dishonest leaders are here to stay.
They make all promises and to us they say-
“The future of India will be bright some day.”
Here corruption is present, and honesty rare,
The rates go higher and up goes the fare.
Elections occur every two days,
People have become selfish in their ways.
The cost of all things is sky high,
The one to survive is the mafia guy.
Prices of the market keep on soaring,
The goons by day are becoming daring.
Yet, we are Indians, and proudly say,
“Hail! Hail! Our independent India today!”

(This one was inspired by the sea in Kanyakumari. We had gone to Kerala after by SSC exams for a vacation. It was hot as hell…but my head was in the clouds as well.)

The Waves (1999)

When my ears hear thy sound,
So sweet, so clear and so loud.
My head with respect down does bow,
I admire thee greatly so.
It looks as thou art washing the palm,
Of Mother Nature – so gentle and calm.
Thou rush on with the breeze,
Looking at thee, my pains do ease.
Thou dance with the winds to and fro,
And rise and fall, with tides high and low.
Even with the ups and down thou face,
Thou seem to be tireless in the long race.
I am greatly indebted to thee,
Who hath taught the lessons of life to me.

(I wrote this one when a very dear friend lost his father. Never before had I seen loss so closely, never understood it.)

Death…will come (1999)

The Lord who gave you life,
Only He shall take it away.
But in due course of this strife,
He shall guide your way.
In death indeed is sorrow,
And dying full of pain,
Yet it opens the book of morrow,
And your efforts won’t go in vain.
Control yourself, do not cry,
For the one who is born, will have to die.
This is the law of Nature,
That holds true for every creature.
Today you lose, tomorrow shall I,
When time comes to bid a goodbye.
This is woeful, I agree,
But for once, the sufferer is free.
Remain calm and be upright,
All the situations, learn to fight.
Remember, God is always with you,
And He’ll watch over your life anew.

(Needless to say, these poems were written in the last year of school. Leaving ‘my’ institution after twelve-long years meant a whole lot of insecurity, but the prospect of a new life, that famously magical ‘college-life’ excited me, as it does most teens.)

My school (1999)

Here I stand near the gate,
And with a wondering gaze,
I look upon my fate;
Which was once a maze.
But after these long years in school,
I was moulded for better
With love as a tool.
And no more does my fate
Look as much as a haze.
Those lovely days,
Again, I long to face.
The days of laughter, the days of cry,
Those wonderful days have now flown by.
I long again for my teachers’ care,
Not forgetting their warning stare.
The large playground
And the tamarind tree,
Going down the memory lane,
I’ll long to see.
I hate to see other students occupy,
My classroom as I say goodbye.
Now, no one on my tears can rule,
As I leave my dearest school.

A tearful adieu (1999)

Today we are here with you,
But these merry moments are very few.
Soon we’ll be on separate ways,
And it’ll be time to bid all,
A tearful adieu.
But memories with us,
Will stay forever.
Will we forget each other?
No. Never.
The remembrances of happier times,
Will come back,
No matter how many miles.
Of how we fought and played
And stayed together.
Thoughts of how we envied and shared,
Loved and laughed and how we cared.
Will haunt our minds and hearts
Till in us our life lasts.
The clock is ticking, fast time runs by,
Tears fill my eyes and heavy is my heart,
Cause, though there’s joy for a new start,
There’s a greater sorrow to part.
My saddened soul renders a cry,
And says,
Do not forget me friends, till I die.
This is our last meet,
When I have to bid you all,
A very unhappy goodbye.

(This is my first attempt at an epic poem, [a miniature one of course], with copious metaphors, modeled after the many I’d read in textbooks. The inspiration was a sense of purpose in the beginning of college.)

The Voyage (1999)

The course ahead is rough and hard,
Looking at hurdles,
It’s difficult to make a start.
And soon on you will rest burdens,
As the journey even more hardens.
The storm is soon coming your way,
Here it’ll be impossible to stay.
Slowly the day turns into night,
Stay alert, it’s time to fight.
The typhoon arrives,
Beware! It’s a gale,
The lightening and thunder strikes,
With a fiery trail.
It’s causing destruction,
Devastation’s everywhere,
The cyclone has hit,
Putting every heart to scare.
Looking around, I feel like crying,
“Save them someone…they are dying!”
There’s little I can do,
But stand beside.
Shedding my tears.
With no compassion beside.
Suddenly I look up,
And am amazed to see,
A holy, divine light
Shining just upon me.
Deep down in my heart,
I hear the sound of hope.
Is it still there?
Or simply a show.
I pinch myself,
No, I’m not dreaming.
Which means
Whatever I see, is real and living!
The sun is rising, the birds are chirping.
The sorrowful night is over,
A joyful day is dawning.
I look around and am delighted,
But till now, I was frightened.
I open my eyes and see the world
as beautiful as never before.
Those who have left,
Have left for the better.
The voyage is over
I see ahead a future – brighter.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Some more of my awkward first poems

Cloud (1997)

Sometimes I am good,
And sometimes I am bad.
I am often found,
On the mountains snow clad.
I touch the trees
And in the sky I flee.
I am white in colour,
But sometimes grey,
And in a grayish mood,
I’m in a fray.
Children like me,
But adults do not.
Because whenever I am near,
Their writing papers blot.
Sometimes I am here,
The next moment, I am there,
So, my life is such,
That I don’t care.
To keep people happy,
I always make a try.
Just keep on guessing,
Who am I?
Of myself I am proud,
Yes, I am the cloud.

Pollution (1997)

Pollution here, pollution there,
To overcome this,
Please take care.

Pollution up, pollution down,
No smiles here,
Only frowns.

Pollution left, pollution right,
To remove all this,
Do come and fight.

Pollution at night, pollution at day,
Let the fresh air to breathe,
On this earth stay.

Pollution every second, pollution every minute,
For all this cause,
Is there no limit?

To stop pollution, let us all take a vow,
And act on it,
Just now, now, now.

I’d like to fly (1997)

O dear, I’d like to fly,
Fly all over the world,
And have a pair of wings,
Just like a little bird.

Fly, fly and fly,
To fly day and night.
And capture the whole nature,
With just a little sight.

Flying through the valley,
Flying even in rain,
Flying across the river,
With flying not in vain.

Feeling so free,
If the gift to me is given,
I wonder how I’d feel,
In a flight right to heaven.

Time is precious (1997)

Time will fly,
Like wind in the sky.
Time will flow,
Like water in the river.
Use every second,
Use every minute,
If you’re really clever.
Time is precious,
It’ll wait for none,
Neither man, nor beast,
Time wastage shun.
Save every moment,
To save time thrive,
And you’ll be successful,
All through your life.

Mother (1998)

Mother, oh mother,
What is your comparison?
You cannot be compared,
With God neither.

Nature your nature,
How is your nature?
Your nature can’t be defined,
You are such a creature.

Your love is so selfless,
Even wider than the sky,
And deeper than the ocean
How bound to you am I.

So many stars in the sky,
So many a fish in the rivers,
I have but only one mother,
So loving, world wide over.

My goal (1998)

My goal in life,
If I have to achieve,
I’ll have to thrive
And pains to receive.
But I will overcome,
All the obstacles,
And free myself
From bonds and shackles.
I will convert the difficulties,
Into victories sweet.
And my fruits of labour,
One day I’ll eat.
This does not impossible seem,
One day I’ll fulfill my dream.

Monday, January 11, 2010

Romancing words

This is my first ever poem. Think I wrote it in class 7. My romance with the English language started then. I realised how much fun it could be brandishing vocabulary and putting rhyming words together. It was my first form of self-expression. My first realisation of ideas. My first steps to being an individual. Here's the completely unedited version. LOL.

Never give up a try,
But try not to cry.
If you keep on exceeding,
You'll see yourself succeeding.
Try always a new experiment,
Don't be silly and ignorant.
You have yourself the quality,
If you try, you'll have,
a big name in society.
Grow your mind large in size,
Who knows?
In the future, you may win,
A big, big prize!

Diary of a teen

Since time is at a premium now and reading books or going for movies a near impossibility, fresh new thoughts are hard to come by. Tired of this vacuum, I decided to rummage my old closet, hoping some amusing memories would tumble out.

My wish was granted. I found 3 of my diaries, stuffed carelessly in there. These were the diaries which I would not have parted with even if I had to go to the loo at one point in time. So precious were the thoughts and experiences of that teen that they had to be guarded from all prying eyes, especially those of my parents.And here they were, lying in some unvisited space in my parents' house, uncared for, unloved.

So I decided to revisit those pages from my past and give those first feelings of love, hatred, pain, fear, joy, rebellion and devotion the place they deserve.

Starting today, I shall blog the poetry (or whatever else they may be) I wrote as a teenager under the flag of diary of a teen. Those with who I share these words may want to find the earnestness in them once they get past the naivete.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

A few moments of solitude

Jishnu is now a reasonably grown baby at 3 months and his last of the vicious vaccines is done with.


The time I have may not be one hundred years, but I finally have some moments to think and write about something non-baby. So, I’ve decided to do the honours with Mr Gabriel García Márquez’ One Hundred years of Solitude. It is probably the last book I will have read earnestly enough to remember, for a very long time.

I remember picking up this book especially after seeing the famous Mr Rushdie’s testimony on its cover though I’m not a great fan of the author of Midnight’s Children. Being swayed by his little recommendation could mean landing up another tale with its heads and tails in all the wrong places, another book belonging to the genre of magic realism. But the ‘jhaadoo’ and the ‘khali kursi’ on the book’s cover added to the beckoning and I took my chance.

And surely enough, flying carpets and almost immortal “Macondans?” with similar names came rushing out of the pages in some weirdly fantastic language. In page after page came Aureliano after Aureliano, Arcadio after Arcadio, Amaranta after Amaranta and Ursula after Ursula and sent me scurrying back to the family tree Mr Márquez had very helpfully and knowingly put there for a not-so-clever reader’s reference. In the backdrop of a civil war, the essential Buendia traits of solitude on the one hand and impulsiveness on the other manifest themselves through the many protagonists of the story. While the men fight and party and invent and womanize, the women cook and clean and scheme and birth.

Then there is this Gawd-alone-knows-how-old-he-is gypsy man and a never ending spell of rain and hell yes, this chick called Remedios the Beauty, who walks around naked and then one day suddenly decides to ascend to heaven. Poof! Sudden appearances and disappearances also happen with the Banana Company who Americanize the innocent, little, sleepy town, the Arabs, termites and other characters. The story (as it was supposedly intended) goes round and round in circles with the same things happening to the characters, as it essentially does with all human beings. But the USP of the book is the surreal way in which the mundane is presented.

A good read for those not looking for logic.