So Say the Skies

A message from the skies
waits to be deciphered.
A voice like yours and mine
that floats in the zephyrs.

Would the heavens ever split
along the edges and borders
of all the hues and tints
spread on its vast canvas?

Would it stop giving way
to the things that can fly,
and would it discriminate
based on a certain type?

Then, why are we divided
by these very boundaries
that give rise to hatred,
and destroy all peace?

United – we stay together
and win against all odds.
The word is loud and clear
from the blue yonder to all.

In the End

Beyond a certain measure,
what worth are your treasures?
Beyond a certain need,
your desires turn into greed.

Could you ever see the colors
of the souls that left unfettered?
Or know their race, country, religion,
food, clothes, houses they lived in?

And if seeing is really believing,
then all these would mean nothing,
for red is the blood in our veins,
and the air we breathe is the same.

The Maker did not discriminate
or create the boundaries of hate.
These were invented by a few who
never cared for the common good.

The results have always been dire,
forcing us deeper into a dark mire.
‘Til we realize the need to change –
a step at a time; it’s not too late.

For in the end, all that matters is
how much you loved, laughed and lived.
For in the end, we’ll lie side by side
like grains of sand, and blades of grass.

These Times

These are the times of the Coronavirus Disease
with both love and humanity, on a tight leash.
No kissing, no hugging, no touching, please.
Make sure the hands are 20-seconds-clean.

Will they ever be clean? Will I ever be sure?
Will I ever be able to go outside like before?
Will I meet my friends and hang out in crowds?
Will this social distancing end? So many doubts!

“Stay away!” say the wise, “It will break the curse!”
“Stay indoors, or this pandemic will become worse.”
Who is to blame? Does it really matter now?
This forced isolation has opened minds somehow.

We beg for forgiveness from Mother Nature’s fury
while some lose the fight in a battle so lonely.
Where did the souls of so many people go?
Where is our Saviour, and where is the cure?

Some say we are paying for bad karma and sins.
Do we need more deaths for alarm bells to ring?
When will we realize the simple rule of Evolution?
We were gifted intelligence to protect Her creations.

Somewhere down that road, we got really lost,
and so, here we are now, paying that high cost.
She is furious with our recklessness, so we pray
for a cure that we may walk our streets again.

The air’s clearer now; She rejoices in many ways.
In the midst of this war, did we learn anything?
Or will all this suffering and death be in vain?
A few years later, will a scourge occur again?

People – this is the word we use for ourselves.
Together we form the Collective Consciousness.
What one does affects another – this is the truth.
We need to understand this and recognize it soon.

So do not hoard – there are those who need.
The old and infirm can’t move as they please.
The afflicted don’t deserve this discrimination.
We depend on each other as societies and nations.

Will we win against this virus? Are we so sure?
During these times, whom do we look towards?
The Universe? God? The doctors? The nurses?
Or does the answer lie within each one of us?

Like the deadly Coronavirus, this debate rages
while the disease takes its toll in all the stages.
With time, this will pass and things will be alright.
While our hopes see us through this terrible night.

A Conversation with a Rose

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!”

An Auto Ride

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 Race

The tracks were set.
The runners in place
while people watched
with bated breaths.

At the loud gunshot,
the racers were off
with fast strides to
beat the ticking clock.

As they reached the
last lap, all of them
rushed ahead and sped
with all their strength.

And then it happened –
The first racer’s fall –
A stumble – it seemed
like he had lost it all.

As he hit the ground,
he felt a hand on his
shoulder, and looked up
to see another racer

who helped him stand
and didn’t leave his side
till they both had crossed
the white finishing line.

Yes, the race was lost,
but he had found a friend.
And later, that day, he asked
him, “Why did you help?”

To which his new comrade
said, “it may seem crazy, yet
I believe – life’s about helping,
And winning isn’t everything.”

The Oyster

A long, long time ago,
at the bottom of the sea,
there lived a little oyster
as blue as he could be.

He hardly ever spoke
and rarely ever smiled
at all the sea folks who
used to pass him by.

“Why are you so glum?”
Said the sea anemone
“Cheer up my little one!”
As she waved gleefully

The oyster didn’t smile
and one could not see
his tears as he sighed
and spoke on ruefully.

“You are so colourful
and look very pretty
with your many arms
moving with the sea.

And the fishes there,
just look at them go
with their bright tails
like twirling rainbows.

While here I am all day
in my drab little shell –
nothing to do and say
and no stories to tell.”

And so the oyster spent
it’s whole life in the sea.
And on one fine, sunny day,
it washed up on the beach.

The girl shouted happily
as she held it in her hands
and showed it to everybody
who had gathered around.

Joy lit up her blue eyes
as they found the pearls.
They said she was lucky
to find such a big oyster-

Who was by now thinking and
smiling at them from Heaven
“I wish I’d known all this time –
my worth- happy I’d have been.”

And so it is dear friends
as plain as truth can be.
Why fret over the reasons?
Trust in Him is all you need.

Victory

Walk the tightrope to the end.
Don’t look down. Not yet, my friend.
Swim across the ocean wide.
Against the currents and the tides.
Fly across the great blue sky,
overcoming all worries and strife.
Run along the winding road for
at its end lies the true abode.
And when you come to that door,
The crown of victory will be yours.

The Angel

I asked if she
would help me
to cross the street.

My vision’s a blur;
I don’t even hear
my bones as they creak.

The street’s so wide;
I cannot decide
where to point my feet.

She took my hand
and like a lamb
I followed silently.

She left me standing
at the gate, wond’ring,
of this castle by the street.

“This is where you’ll be.”
She said to me
and turned away to leave.

I asked her name
and why she came
and where she had brought me.

“Your angel,” she said.
“And Heaven’s this place
Where you’ll rest in peace.”

The Choice

‘Twas on a glowing autumn evening,
there came at Stan’s door a knocking.
Two guests sat near the hearth
The angel of life and the angel of death.

One wore robes of the finest silk
like the sun rising over the hills.
The other was adorned in shades
of changing leaves in the glades.

Each put forth his argument
bidding Stan to take a decision,
For whomever he chose to be with
would stay and the other would leave.

“Life is like a stroll through
a corridor with many doors
behind each of which lies
a sea of possibilities.”

“Death is the end
of all suffering.
It is the place where
one rests in peace.”

“Life is like a race
through a puzzling maze
with twists and turns
of highs and lows.”

“In death lies the final
truth that makes people
equal for it sees no
barriers and no emotions.”

“Life is like a river flowing
through deep valleys finding
its way through stones and
changing them into sand.”

“Death seeks no deeds or
accomplishments for
it will eventually come
to everything in turn.”

Having heard them both,
it was Stan’s turn to speak.
He said, “Death is inevitable
and will certainly overtake.

But life holds experiences
in each and every moment.
The pain and the glory
together make the story.”

So, as day came to end the night,
he held the hand of the angel of life.
And, the angel of death who said no more
was shown out through the door.

Ramblings on a Maudlin Afternoon

Listening to the leaves whispering in the breeze,
I wait for answers before they can be revealed.
Hoping for the best while bearing the hard fall,
I try to reason; it’s like talking to stone walls.
Searching within the puzzle that’s the Universe,
I come up with nothing like a mirror in the darkness.
Who knows? Even as the skies change colors everyday,
patiently … even as the earth spins madly … I wait.