To love is not a sin

My life was dull and void
Full of caring people
But none I owned myself

Balancing the bamboo bridge
My steps echoed monotony
On a cold slumber evening

Hearing the moans and cries
I quickly diverted my feet
Disarraying my phase

Ah! Abandoned as it seemed
He yearned for my warm hand
To hug his soft body

The moment I picked him up
He wriggled inside my arms
As if never to leave me

Was thrilled to realize
Of my dream come true
As stars too nodded in blinks

Reached home to share my joy
With my dream boy hand in hand
But hiding him behind

I was welcomed by a kitty
A loving gift of Mama & Papa
For this single lonely girl

My eyes expanded matching my parents
Who froze for a moment
Upon seeing my treasure

There was a roar of joy & laughter
For the puppy and kitty
Drank milk from the same cup

Cartoons awaited on TV
As I was never satiated
With my lovely Pretty & Browny

The two were then made to sit
On either side of the vase
Atop the colourless idiot box

While Pretty was sitting prettily
Browny was about to jump in panic
Which Papa caught right in his camera

They are playing now in the garden
Who drink milk and eat fish
From the same red bowl

I don’t understand why people wonder
When they see this phenomenon
Of love among enemies

Let me reveal you something….

My life is full of life now
For I understood that
To love is not a sin
To love is only a win


P.S. This is my contribution for Caption Contest - Week 9.

Happy New Year

Man takes ‘resolutions’ enthusiastically to start the new year afresh only to wither in the coming days. His determination dilutes as the ‘dawn of the new year’ excitement settles down with his existing lazy cells.

I wonder many times, ‘What’s the need for it?’ As for me, resolutions should be taken the moment it comes to my mind.

But none can deny the excitement and hopes the New Year brings into our lives. Nay, this feeling should be made available to our inner selves every minute. Will I ever realize this wisdom?

The clock continues its ticking…..

If alive, I shall resume my writing here in 2008.

Happy New Year 2008!

Flights of love

As the winner of the 'Caption Contest - Week 7' (a friendly contest conducted among interested friends), I am given the honour of hosting week 8 contest. The picture I chose is a ballerina in her best.

Poems have started flowing in already and you can have a look at it here...

http://padmaja.sulekha.com/blog/post/2007/12/caption-contest-week-8.htm

The links are provided in the comments section. Not as a part of contest but just out of interest, I too penned a few lines which are lighter to read. I thought I'll write a story based on this photo. Here I go....




Snow white face I have had in seven
Cuddled my papa as ‘angel’ of heaven
Nightmares I got of studies that dislike
My silence became an ally of my like

Tiptoeing my feet I walked the house whole
Papa enrolled me in ballet worrying my life role
Shirking off my shyness picked up the swings
My narrow waist held the dress as that of wings

I swirled and twirled in the big hall of school
Pointework became my mastery to drool
Challenged the gravity with my flight in air
Extending my legs and arms with utmost care

Soon I became a girl of sweet twenty
Met handsome of dreams in a party
Attracted by his charming gaze on me
Internally fell at his feet in loving glee

He came to see my performance the other day
Sitting in the front row cheered me up in gay
Butterflies in my stomach made me feel so weird
My poise and grace were the best so I heard

Brushing aside the crowd that hauled me to hold
He owned my hands soft to whisper so bold
The words of ‘I love you’ dripped into my heart
Wept in his arms whose charisma I couldn’t thwart

Married to everlasting happiness in a temple
Boy and girl did I deliver as our love symbol
Dances I postponed to raise my little children
Though remembered the stances so often

Lovingly I caress the photo taken thirty years ago
Which is a testimony to our love without ego
No son or daughter we have with us now
For they have found their love to which I bow

Here he comes with a bouquet of flowers
And bends at my feet for a dance at our terrace
Joyfully I accept and ready with my pointework
Swirl slowly now with little flight of leg work

Remembering the steps I pick up soon
To his great wonder under the silvery moon
Holding me he whispers ‘I love you’ so cute
My eyes reflect my emotions of love in mute

My picture of haven

Taught was I to draw sloping house first
Practised it till I felt a pain in the fist
Mountains and mounds was the trial next
‘Sun’ I added on my own to splatter from the midst

Trees and leaves were difficult to master
Failure I should never admit in the mental plaster
Remembering these echoing words of pastor
Birds and grass my hands smeared from the platter

Boys and girls I was drawing with stencil
Learnt slowly to stroke them with pencil
Wanting to see myself on the picture as beautiful
Carefully learnt how to add colours wonderful

Rays of light got splashed on my canvas so often
Boasted my ego of its mastery in multiples of ten
Started painting a girl on a cycle balancing
Adding houses and trees at the backdrop to look stunning

Bouquets and awards came my way easily
Walked up the stage to collect them joyfully
Reminisced openly my path of learning with pride
To the audience whose mouths gaped so wide

Many a painting my hands would have delivered then
But for the paralysis that prompted me to read Zen
Decided to keep this painting with me hence
Wondering at the insights I too had delivered once

Neither do I wish to acquire houses for pleasure
Nor do I want to be a lady in utter pressure
Looking at the duality of roads that confuse my plight
I meditate everyday to lead me to One Light

Yes, I was the girl of blue and blonde in cycle
Enjoying the bliss with senses that recycle
Now to the surprise of my Father in heaven
I too have grown up from my painting of haven


This poem is written for Caption Contest - Week 7.


P.S. Picture courtesy Harry and Helen.

Silence of the night

I walked alone along the seaside
Only for the feel of sea and sky that unite
I touched the hill top in utter delight
Only for the feel of chill and deep insight

I flew across the clouds of bright
Only for the feel of spineful thrill and might
I played musical notes standing aside
Only for the feel of resonance and rhythm inside

I imagined such scenic beauty freeze around me
Only for the feel of dreaming at my will in glee
I learnt them all from my niece so cute
Only for the feel of dictating this poem in mute

I prayed to God to make me enjoy once
Only for the feel of crippled legs nimble once
I smiled in pain thinking my tryst with light
Only for the feel of flickering my blind sight

I decided to paint my thoughts that strike
Only for the feel of blue and green of my like
I struggled many a time to match your picture
Only for the feel of my emotions fill the pitcher

I am at last reminded of my skin in black and teeth in white
Only to be seated aside near the windowsill right
Now I am waiting for an angel to silence my outside
Only to feel safe and peaceful in my life of night


P.S. Picture courtesy Ramanpreet K
Contest Week 6

A sonorous wish

I was a bit elated for having finished the book “Fermat’s Last Theorem” by Simon Singh at last a few days ago. This book recommended by my brother has got all the real life drama involving the mathematical wizards of generations to solve a 300 year old mathematical riddle, posed casually by an amateur mathematician, Fermat. The stress and mental agony the mathematicians had undergone on an algebraic equation shook me really. It was a matter of pride for them to solve the centuries old challenge.

Within a couple of days, I was asked to invigilate AMIE exam conducted in The Indian Embassy. I took up the first book of Khushwant Singh, ‘Train to Pakistan’ to kill my boredom. While flipping the first few pages over there, I was not greatly impressed, for it was nothing but description of characters of a sleepy village, Mano Majra. I lost interest and tossed the book aside after reaching home. However, basic instinct prevailed in a couple of days again and hence picked up from where I have left. In fact, the book not only killed my boredom but also highlighted the cruel killings of thousands of innocent lives.

The author has handled human emotions of the gory incidents involving India-Pakistan partition in such a fine fashion that I could not stop thinking of anything else except it. Mano Majra, a village sandwiched between Pakistan and India border houses both mainly Muslims and Sikhs. They respect each other and nevertheless their relationships are always cordial. A murder happens in that village followed by the arrival of a social worker, Iqbal. Jugga budmash & Iqbal are wrongly framed for the murder due to clever Deputy Commissioner, Hukum Chand. In the meantime, a train of Indian corpses arrive Mano Majra from the Pakistan border and that changes the scenario. There is a plot of the young patriotic Sikhs to revenge these types of killings to send a similar train to Pakistan. The volunteers collect near Mano Majra station to avenge their thirst for blood. In the meantime, the Muslims of Mano Majra are evacuated and are supposed to travel in the same train. What happens in the end is something to be read.

I am thoroughly disturbed by the author’s lucid narration of incidents involving this partition. I remember crying after watching the TV serial ‘Tamas’ and disturbed by Rani’s death in ‘Hey Ram’. But this story is beyond all those. I am completely absorbed by the emotions, for it is true even today. In the name of religion, people are tossed like toys by politicians, bureaucrats, terrorists etc.

Who should be blamed for these ongoing killings as the lick of blood is still wanted in many communities to revive the rivalries?

• Visionary of the British rulers for their cunning ploy of dividing the erstwhile undivided Bharat?
• Or the insensible and irresponsible people for succumbing to such emotional bargains?
• Or the diplomacy of the government in tackling such horrid recurring of incidents?
• Or anybody and everybody?

Sitting in my well protected flat enjoying the pleasures of life, my heart experienced a gale of emotions….

• Should I be contented with my inner world of peace or should I bother about the outer world of war?
• Should I preach non-violence from my haven or should I dare not visit those places even in dreams?
• Should I pray for Lord Kalki’s early arrival to destroy the cunning and the wicked (who spoil the world) if that includes me or should I not react at all?

Anger, vengeance, hatred, malice, revenge are difficult to see their death. No wonder, such chain reactions are hard to settle down. Is there anyone who is physically, mentally and spiritually strong enough to solve this political riddle that’s tearing Mother India and also Earth?

Peace and love must be the only religion, pledge, motto and life of all lives. All I can do is to write such a sonorous wish.

At times of practical and personal crisis, how many ears would this wish genuinely reach including mine – a point to be remembered though.

Mind & Body, Heart & Soul

Yesterday I came face to face with the fact that ‘Music is divine’. Even now when I think of it, my eyes dispose tears of joy.

Atul & I (courtesy of the generous husband) attended the live concert of the performance of maestros held in the Bahrain Exhibition Centre between 8:30 & 10:30 p.m. yesterday.

The maestros were :

Tabla – Zakir Hussain
Mandolin – U. Srinivas
Vocals – Shankar Mahadevan
Drums & Percussion – Sivamani

These artists are really gifted for they took us with ease to a different world of magic and divinity of music. I was in total awe looking at the mind boggling gimmicks of the dynamic Sivamani, fantastic beats of Zakir Hussain, breathtaking swaras of Shankar Mahadevan and impeccable play of Srinivas. No more words do I find to say more.

Spending BD 40/- for two tickets is expensive for us. But it is really worth paying, for the proceeds are likely to go to charity for lighting up the eyes of the blind and also for providing the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to hear those great masters of their fields.

I came home with a headache (migraine) as usual for I am noise allergic but then I can afford to experience pain along with pleasure sometimes. For it was a rare occasion to feed my body, mind, heart & soul with high-class music.