Dear Silence

Dear Silence,
Thank you for just showing up and being there.
Without you, there would be cacophony everywhere.
And with you, the noise makes sense.

Dear Silence,
Your value is beyond measure.
Just like pearls are discovered in an ocean by a diver,
The mind uncovers wisdom in your presence.

Dear Silence,
It’s paradoxical, but you are an excellent orator.
Of things left unsaid, you are the messenger,
And you have salvaged many-a-worsening situation.

Dear Silence,
I appreciate you being such a life-saver.
Serenity abounds with you as the mediator.
Thank you for creating the perfect balance.

Broken … And Fixed

It started with a fight.
We argued, shouted, sweared, and called each other names.
I stomped up to the attic.
My face flushed and teary-eyed in a fit of rage.

I somehow had to end this.
The only way to save myself was to conciously separate.
This relationship that I cherished,
A year later, had become stale.

Just then, my eyes fell on a wooden chest.
It was an old one made of wood and nails.
I mindlessly opened it,
Rummaging through the bric-a-brac it contained.

Suddenly, I found myself holding my dolly.
She was small, with a blue dress and a pink face.
Her arms were covered by bell sleeves,
But they were held to her body with tape.

There was an inundation of memories.
Decades ago, my friend and I were engrossed in play.
This dolly was one of my favorites,
And when we both grabbed it together, her arms gave way.

We tried to play with her.
But then decided it was useless and to throw her away.
Just then, my grandmother walked in.
She took one look at the dolly and shook her head.

With scissors, tape, and, in fifteen minutes,
My little dolly was ready to play with again.
“When something is broken, look for ways to fix it.”
Her words echoed in my mind at that very moment.

All of a sudden, I felt like a bulb had been lit.
Yes, there was anger, frustration, and rage,
But, I was going to try and save this relationship
I walked out of the attic, ready to calmly explain what I felt.

The Spice of Life

Spices-there are so many
That make life worth living,
From happiness like sugar
To anger that’s bittersour.

But there’s a special spice
That makes all things nice.
It is the secret ingredient
That tops other condiments.

This spice grows in hearts.
When sprinkled, it imparts
A flavor that’s everlasting
With a freshness like Spring.

It has many superpowers.
It creates, unites, and cures.
But there’s also a caution –
To use it in apt proportions.

This spice is the only one
That makes us all human.
It’s a covenant from Above.
This spice of life is – Love.

The Binding Ingredient

Little John’s father was a big cheese in New York City.
He was an author whose books sold like hot cakes.
For little John, life was, indeed, a bowl of cherries,
But he wasn’t clever, so his plans were all half baked.

And in Beijing, Chun’s parents disapprove of Bo,
But she’s pregnant, so the rice is already cooked.
And, wish as they might, nothing could be done now.
They hoped that the ginger would get pungent with age.

At the same moment in Paris, Juliette was worried.
The mirror revealed she was as skinny as a string bean.
She aspired to become a model to earn some dough.
So she’d have to work hard on herself, oh puree!

And, in Frankfurt, Adele and her friend were arguing.
Her friend said that Adele had tomatoes on her eyes.
“It’s all in butter!” Adele said in defense of her new relationship.
“That is not my beer!” her friend angrily replied.

So, my friends, if you’re still wondering what I meant
By sharing these little stories from the world over,
It doesn’t matter where you’re from, but you’d comprehend
That food is the ingredient that binds us all together.

The Awakening

When the Sun rises in the skies,
And spreads around its rosy light,
Sleep vanishes with the night,
For a brand new day has arrived.

As I wake up and open my eyes,
I hear the birds singing outside.
The house is peaceful and quiet.
It mirrors the peace in my mind.

The window reveals a pretty sight.
Trees glitter like emeralds bright.
Birds dart about as they take flight.
The flowers bloom on the roadside.

And before the world comes alive,
And turns on its rollercoaster ride,
I say a prayer of thanks for this life.
I’m ready to take it all in my stride.

A Little Nonsense

If I was You and you were I,
And I lent you some money,
Do you owe me, or I owe You?
And, that would be so funny.
If you’d return what you took,
Then, I’d give it back to You.
And so, it would not be true
For me to say, “Ae! I Owe You!”
So, all is now settled, friends,
As, now, I owe You nothing.
And as this li’l nonsense ends,
I hope it leaves you laughing.

Love, Naturally

Would I be wrong if I say
Nature’s nature is to nurture?

The mountains that, in the sky, tower,
In their strength, resemble my father.

And the oceans with their waves
Soothe just like my mother’s lullabies.

But what about that emotion called love?
Was that overlooked by Nature?

The answer to that is “no,” my friends.
For love, she has a special expression.

On all her creations, her love she showers
With the beauteous, colorful flowers.

With shades of red, the winter’s roses
Boldly announce their passionate love

In the meadows, the spotless white lilies
Promise commitment and purity.

And the sky blue forget-me-nots
Speak of everlasting fidilelity and respect.

While the multi-hued carnations
Show their affection and admiration.

Of other blossoms, there are a multitude
That express their love so true.

Each with their own vocabulary,
Convey their feelings eloquently.

So, whenever you see these bloom
It’s Nature proclaiming, “I love you.”

My Bed

I cannot deny it – I love my bed.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
Though there’s a desk, chair, and closet,
In my room, my bed is my favorite.

It’s my philosopher and guide
And teaches me a lot about life.
Enclosed in its coziness, I sleep at night –
A sleep that helps recharge my mind.

And what I learn from it is that
When the day has been frustratingly bad,
A deep sleep will untangle the threads
And give me strength for the next day.

My bed is where I see dreams.
It’s where I battle nightmares.
And it’s also the place I say thanks
When my eyes open to another day.

And in the morning, when I’m awake,
My bed is the first thing I make.
For, I can’t predict the course of the day,
But, at its end, I know I’ll have a good rest.

My bed is my best friend.
It’s not just a piece of wood.
It’s more than just a place where I rest.
I cannot deny it – I love my bed.

Dream On

Wise men say we all arrive alone.
And alone we will be, when we pass on.
But about this, I have a different opinion,
For, in this world, when we are born,
We’re given a dream by the Holy One.
This dream is a reason to keep on going,
And, in many ways, it keeps reminding
Us to take action for its realization.
Sometimes, at night, it comes as a vision.
Sometimes, it’s in advice or admonition.
It will continue to strive for recognition,
And seek through us, a manifestation.
When we see it through the commotion,
We need to nurture it with true intention.
This dream will exist with us all along,
And will come to life only if we want.

Mother: Earth?

It’s 3500AD; humans have evolved
Not through natural selection,
For Darwin is no longer recalled,
But with scientific intervention.

Space travel has been unraveled,
And in a not-so-distant galaxy,
A new planet has been discovered
For the neohumans to inhabit.

The Earth’s resources are exhausted.
Water in oceans and rivers consumed.
The rainforests have ceased to exist.
The air, with acidic gases, is polluted.

Shuttle after shuttle shoot into space
Carrying out the largest mass exodus.
Of Life on Earth, there will be no trace,
And everything else will turn to dust.

As the last neohuman boards to leave,
And the shuttle takes off at light speed,
“Just about time,” “it” thinks with relief.
And “Mother Earth” loses it’s meaning.

The Night

The dark is not always scary.
Black is not always taboo.
At times, the night is a blessing,
And the absence of light is needed, too.

When the last traces of sunlight fade,
The night with her magical ways
Helps our minds and bodies rejuvenate
Giving strength to seize the next day.

The day is like a cluttered room
With chores, tasks, and nonstop chatter.
The night helps escape this chaos, too.
With sleep, life seems so much better.

Sleep! This word is paradoxical!
As we see dreams with our eyes closed,
And what happens is so illogical –
It’s like we’re awake in a parallel world.

The night is full of mystery,
Something that can never be explained.
So, let her weave her own tapestry,
While the world slumbers, unrestrained.

The Joy of Music

There are many things
That make me glad,
That brighten my days
When I feel so sad.
But none lift me up so much
When I’m feeling bored
As the black and white keys
on my musical keyboard.
Sa, re, ga, ma, pa, dha, and ni-
These notes bring joy to me.
Alankars, ragas, and melodies-
To my heart, they all appeal.
With them, I have realized
Music, in everything, resides.
Be it the hum of the microwave,
Or the beats that a clock plays.
To perfect the notes of a song,
I can practice all day long.
If not once, then twice or thrice
Till I can get the tune right.
There’s a song for every situation.
There’s rhythm, even in silence.
Yes, Music gives me happiness,
For it finally leads me to myself.