One at a Time

It was that most dreaded of times!
The final examinations were nigh!
The panicked cramming had begun
Of all the chapters in the syllabus.

The textbooks were all piled up high,
And the space was limited in my mind.
So, as the clock struck nine one night,
My father found me sitting teary-eyed.

It did not take him time to fathom
That, with fear, I was overwhelmed.
He then calmly sat down next to me
And in a gentle voice, said reassuringly,

“How do you think the ocean forms?
One drop at a time – drop by drop.
How do you think walls are built?
One brick at a time – brick by brick.

How do you think a book is read?
One page at a time – page by page.
How do you think you’d climb a ladder?
One step at a time – higher and higher.

Yes, it’s important to start somewhere
And move along with a steady pace.
And that’s how you’d break a mountain.
You’d start by cutting a single stone.”

His words struck a chord deep inside.
It seemed that I could finally see light.
A line, a paragraph, a page at a time
Was how I studied on that dark night.

The exams and scores are long forgotten,
But not my father’s well-taught lesson.
For how do you think one goes on in life?
One learning at a time – time after time.

It’s Complicated!

And so it was that on the sixth day
God created Man in His own image,
And thinking that he shouldn’t be alone,
He made for him a companion, a Woman.

She complemented him perfectly.
She made his existence complete.
A beautiful partnership they built
For His commands to be fulfilled.

But I’m so sure nothing could’ve prepared
Him for the evolution of their relationship.
A meeting, yet not meeting, of their minds,
And the repercussions that would arise.

She said he should always tell the truth.
Then, asked him to say how she looked,
Or spoke, or sang or walked, or cooked,
And the answer expected was “Beautiful!”

He, on the other hand, felt so obliged
To let her know all that he had opined.
Only after he slept on the couch at night
Did he gain insight into that lost fight.

And then, there was that lazy Sunday
When he watched his favorite team play
While she dusted, cleaned, and arranged
All things in the house where they stayed.

And, till today, he could never explain
Why he got that cold shoulder again.
After all, he had stayed out of her way
By watching the game on TV that day.

O Almighty, was this in the Master Plan?
Were You onto all this before it all began?
What further trickery awaits us humans
As the Earth revolves around the Sun?

Who’s right or wrong? No one can tell!
It’s so complicated, and that doesn’t help!
So, pray, send to us the blueprint manual
That will help solve this unsolvable puzzle!

The Riddle

What is it
That abounds in the poorest home,
But is missing in castles big and grand?

What is it
That’s more valuable than gold,
But cannot be locked in safes and banks?

What is it
That no company in this world
Can manufacture with a logo and brand?

What is it
That everyone tries to hoard,
But then it slips away like grains of sand?

What is it
That each person longs for,
But each and every person also has?

What is it
That multiplies manifold
With the smallest thing that is shared?

What is it
That we think is lost,
But if we look deep within, it is there?

What is it
That can only be grown
With selfless acts of kindness?

What is it? What is it?
If you haven’t yet fathomed,
The answer to this riddle, my friends, is … Happiness!

My Box of Crayons

You are my box of crayons.
The red to my passion;
The orange to my enthusiasm;
The yellow to my optimism;

The green to my peace;
The blue to my stability;
The purple to my creativity;
The black to my mystery;

The white to my innocence;
The brown to my strength.
Every shade and every tint
That I am is what you paint.

With you, I am smaragdine,
And viridian and aquamarine,
And argent and apricot,
And indigo and gamboge,

And ash and amethyst,
And skobellof and mulberry.
You are every color I’ll ever be,
And only with you, I’ll play Holi.

A Saree Tale

What if a saree could speak?
What tales would it narrate?
Be it cotton, satin, or pure silk,
Is it more than just a drape?

Yesterday was just another day
When I pulled out a pink saree.
It was a beautiful, floral georgette,
And as I wore it, it spoke to me.

The first yard promised secrecy,
As it always remains hidden.
Like some aspects of me
Stay undisclosed and unseen.

The second yard promised beauty
With its colors and pretty motifs.
Like all of my unique qualities
Come together to make me me.

The third yard promised change
As I folded it into wavy pleats.
Like my moods, never the same,
Are united in my personality.

The fourth yard promised grace
As it slowly curved behind.
Like the manner in which I face
All that’s doled to me by life.

The fifth yard promised strength
As I drew it in front and higher.
Like my determination and grit
Through tough times, get me over.

The sixth yard promised freedom
As it draped over my shoulder.
Like my thoughts and expressions
Give me higher powers.

When I finally looked at myself,
I was overcome with happiness.
Yes, my saree was more than a dress.
My saree turned me into a Goddess!

Every Moment Counts

Moments – like currency
Are doled out by Time.
But, they are so fleeting,
We can’t catch them if we try.

This year was full of moments –
Of exhilarations and depressions,
Of expectations and reservations,
Of hopefulness and mischance.

And every moment counts.
Because it’s not the moment,
Or about how it turns out,
But how we live in that instant.

So, as a New Year arrives
With its bagful of moments,
Take each one in your stride
And give your best performance.

Doors

Nia sat alone in her room.
With curtains drawn, shrouded in gloom.
Her mother slowly knocked at the door.
Then, entered it to find her sitting on the floor.
On seeing her mother, Nia started crying,
“Why, mom? Why? After all this trying?”
Tears ran down her big brown eyes.
As her mother sat near her and sighed.
Holding Nia’s hand, she gently spoke,
“When one door closes, another will open.”
“Really?!” Nia screamed incredulously.
“Why was this door open if it wasn’t meant for me?
And if the next one is indeed the one, what’s that guarantee?
It’s just hopeless!!” She tearfully said continuously.
“Nia,” said her mother, “Listen to me carefully.
Each door that opens has behind it a sea of possibilities,
And every door that closes leaves us with some learnings.
When a new door opens, those turn into experiences,
Which are guiding stars as we navigate unknown oceans.
Add hard work and determination, and you’ll reach your destination.
All you need to do is reassess your priorities and abilities,
And seek to improve in the areas that need it.
So, let’s see what you could do better for this examination,
And let’s also keep our minds open to other career options.”
Having said that, she drew open the heavy curtains.
As sunshine entered the room and brightened everything,
Nia wiped her face and got up from the cold floor.
She felt ready for whatever lay beyond the next open door.

The Lovers

The Earth and the Sky –
Bound together
By an invisible force
Named Gravity,
But could I call it –
Love?

The Earth and the Sky –
Meet each other
In the distance, yonder,
On the horizon,
But could I call it –
The Kiss?

The Earth and the Sky –
Merge with each other
With lightning and rain
During a thunderstorm,
But could I call it –
Passion?

The Earth and the Sky –
Give themselves
To each other
Creating seasons,
But could I call it –
Sacrifice?

The Earth and the Sky
Lovers by destiny?
Lovers by choice?
Lovers by force?
Lovers by chance?
Lovers…mysterious!

The Last Invitation

When my time on Earth is done,
And my last day will have come,
I will lay the table for two
For a dinner with You-Know-Who.

There will be roses and candlelight,
Music and glasses of red wine.
I will greet Him with a bright smile,
And invite Him to sit with me and dine.

There will be no tearful conversations,
No pleading for my life’s extension.
Rather, we will spend the time
Talking about the afterlife.

To Him, I will narrate my stories,
Only the best ones from my memories.
I will ask Him about the folks I knew,
Those He whisked away to a place new.

And as our tete-a-tete ends,
He will then take me by my hand,
And across the sunset, we will go,
To a place more peaceful than I’ll know.

Like, Comment, Share … Despair

Doctors of the world, beware!
A new virus is in the air!
It catches people unawares.
And spreads quickly with a scare!

The symptoms are most peculiar!
Glued to the mobile or computer,
After posting a message or picture,
The infected seek likes, comments, and shares!

It would be great if it ended there,
But every second there is to spare
Turns into this monstrous nightmare
Of wanting more likes, comments and shares!

The only thing that they care
About is how their trends compare.
Their reel life has them ensnared,
And, this leads to a lot of despair.

Now, I won’t hesitate to declare
I’m caught in this trap like a hare!
And in dire need of some medicare
For my own wellbeing and welfare!

But, before I can lay my heart bare
To the doctor about this deplorable affair,
He refers me to X for his post uploaded there,
And tells me to read, like, comment, and share!

The Hopeful Bird

My heart yearns to be a bird
That sings her song at dawn,
A song of hope for the world
In the wee light of the morn.

She flits among the green trees
Picking notes along the way,
Weaving them into a symphony,
Which she sings the next day.

Come rain or cold or sunshine,
She never runs out of tunes,
For with those, the Sun will rise
And bathe her with warmth, too.

The world may not comprehend
The songs she sings every day.
But her songs, with the dawn, blend
To say that hope is here to stay.

The Questions of Life

A curious four-year-old Payal
Would often be full of questions.
Are Santa Claus and his elves real?
What does the tooth fairy do during the day?
Her mother left the answers to her imagination.

A bright thirteen-year-old Payal
Would often quiz her teachers.
How does the human brain work?
Does the Milky Way have other Earthlike worlds?
Her teachers told her to seek answers in encyclopedias.

A young twenty four-year-old Payal
Had queries about her relationship.
Does he really and truly love me?
Will we be able to balance each other’s dreams?
Her grandmother said that, with time, the answers would be revealed.

A happy fifty-year-old Payal
Often conversed with the Almighty.
What did I do to deserve this good life?
O Lord! Will I finally meet You after I die?
The wise told her to have faith and seek answers from the holy.

Not every question has an immediate answer.
Not every question needs an immediate answer.
Sometimes, these questions, unanswered,
Lead us down a path on which we grow and prosper.