Within me you grow
blooming like a rose.
I can see you smile,
twinkles in your eyes.
I can feel you move
as you turn in my womb.
And as I think of you,
I know you hear me too.
You are mine.
My unborn child.
My fairy girl –
A precious pearl.
My light, my faith
I’ll patiently wait,
for like no other
you are my daughter.
My heart yearns for your love, dearest.
like a desert awaits the falling rain.
I long and long to hold you
like the night embraces the Moon.
You are the one and only one
who brightens my life like the Sun.
I will love you forever and ever.
As long as I live and even thereafter.
Colour me blue this Holi.
Blue like the open skies.
Colour me yellow this Holi.
Yellow like the sunshine.
Colour me green this Holi.
Green like the leaves on trees.
Colour me orange this Holi.
Orange like the garden lilies.
Colour me red this Holi.
Red like the deepest love.
Colour me grey this Holi.
Grey like the clouds above.
Colour me with all the hues.
My soul is like white snow.
Come colour me this Holi.
And make me one with You.
I once met a beautiful Sentimental rose.
It sought no approvals from this world
as it blossomed on a fair summer day
in a sunny rose garden in New Zealand.
With splashes of red on white velvet
petals tucked around a yellow circle,
it garnered the rapt attention of
countless glittering, round dew drops.
Then that evening, dark clouds gathered.
With thunder and rain, the winds battered.
While curled up near the warm fireplace,
my thoughts turned to that rose’s fate.
I woke up to the gleaming morning sun,
walked solemnly to that little rose garden,
and there was that glorious Sentimental
poised gracefully with a few strewn petals!
While some were yet so neatly arranged
with silvery drops shining on their faces.
Our conversation took place in silence as
the rose didn’t speak any other language.
“Your beauty is perfect!” I exclaimed.
“Even though the stormy winds and rain
threatened your very existence last night,
why do you smile, so lovely and bright?”
The rose nodded its head in the breeze.
As if contemplating the answer silently.
Then said, “The storm was unexpected, aye!
But to be your best…always…now that’s life!”
Soon it’ll be Christmas –
that holiest of days with
carols and celebrations
and gifts under the Trees.
Now before the wish lists
are sent to the North Pole,
and before the stockings
are hung on the mantle,
there is something that
needs your consideration,
something important that
needs your full attention.
So, take a little time
to take a little pause
and truly understand
Santa’s Xmas Clause.
Be kind to everyone
you meet on your way –
your family and friends
and even the strays.
Mind all your manners
and be well behaved.
Listen to your parents
and heed all they say.
Good deeds weigh more.
So being helpful helps.
The weak and the old –
treat them with care.
If you’ve done all these
on each day of the year,
then you’ve earned a visit
from Santa, my dears.
So, be sure to remember
the words above because
these are the terms
of Santa’s Xmas Clause.
Soon it’ll be Christmas
and more than the lights,
it’s the spirit that matters
and keeps our faith alive.
The bells – they are ringing
in the temples by the river
while in the packed ground,
an arrow leaves its quiver.
Streaking through the air,
it finally finds its mark.
Raavan, with his ten heads,
is brought down at last.
Blazing up with fireworks
lighting the evening skies,
the end of legendary evil
makes a really pretty sight.
“Jai Shri Ram! Jai Shri Ram!”
The crowd chants with fervor,
for on this night of Dussehra,
Light has conquered the dark.
O children of that glorious Light!
Celebrate Dussehra everyday
with hope winning over despair
and knowledge over ignorance.
O children of the Supreme Good!
May this auspicious tenth day
awaken the powers inside you
that will guide you on your way.
Love – like flames burning
charcoal hearts turning
them into cinders.
Love – like tsunamis crashing
on soul shores turning
them into watery crypts.
Love – like hurricanes blowing
over mind memories turning
them to ghost towns.
Love – like tremors shaking
Atlantean promises turning
them to scattered debris.
Love – leaving a trail of Devastation
or paving the way for Creation?
The hands of the clock move to five,
It’s time for me to get out of the hive.
I rush downstairs to the parking lots
for a ride home in the autorickshaw
The meter’s down; we’re on our way.
And on the road, there’s a lot of traffic.
With a loud honk, a red bus passes by:
the auto swerves – missing a motorbike.
It bumpity bumps over all the potholes
like the little cars at a car-racing show.
Now on the highway, it picks up speed
and I wobble like jelly on the back seat.
Up and down the bridges, we roller coast,
moving in a sea of loud beeps and honks.
O what a ride! What a thrilling ride it is!
In the little auto on the city’s big streets.
Here comes the house and then it ends.
The meter stops and the fare is paid.
Butterflies and prayers are laid to rest as
I look forward to the ride on another day.
The night was dark.
The wind did howl.
The streets were empty.
The tramps didn’t prowl.
The sea was wild
with waves so high.
And in the fields
the flowers died.
The sky showered
great big drops
that filled the streets
and lashed tree tops.
The children wailed.
The mothers prayed,
“O Lord save us all
from this rainy hell!”
Pitter patter fall the drops
from the skies non-stop.
Swift and fast comes the rain.
Clouds are overhead again.
Out come raincoats.
Out come umbrellas.
Out come the gumboots
and brandy from cellars.
Little children on the roads
shout and jump with the toads.
And worried mothers everywhere
cry out, “Come here! Come here!”
An earthy smell is in the air
as snakes and bugs give a scare.
Rivers and waterfalls overflow
and the sky is lit with a rainbow.
Peacocks dance and sing aloud.
All around the mist does shroud.
Brooding hearts sing out again.
Rainy days are here to stay!
O dear stomach! O dear stomach!
How much should I give you? How much?
Doughnuts, cakes and sugar lumps,
bread and butter, sweet round plums,
grapes and mangoes – sweet and sour,
cookies and chocolates from the jar,
jam and cheese and wafers too,
little berries – black and blue.
How is it that I eat so much,
yet can never fill you up?
You rumble and rumble and ask for more.
Candies and toffees then I eat by the score,
walnuts, dates and cashewnuts,
oranges, almonds and coconuts,
ice cream, juice and sweet buns,
and above all, huge pie chunks.
And now tell me why do you ache
after from me so much you take?
You make me groan, moan and sigh
and then I feel I’m going to die.
I have to eat food that is boiled;
It’s your fault I’m given castor oil.
O dear stomach! O dear stomach!
How much should I give you? How much?
He was like the egret on holi.
Unfazed by the music and colors.
Like the bhaang in the thandai,
he was the reason for the madness.
They swayed to his love songs –
men, women and children alike.
He stole their hearts and souls
with the music from his pipe.
They surrounded him on his way
screaming and shouting his name.
The fever raged through the day;
it showed no signs of abating.
Others accused him of sorcery,
and tried very hard to catch him.
But he escaped like the breeze,
for he was like the egret on holi.