Go Slow

Why the panic?! Where’s the fire?!
Haste leads to consequences dire!
Consider carefully all the options
Before bringing a plan to fruition.
It could be deciding what to wear
Or going for a drive somewhere.
With impatience, you may forget
Important things, and then regret.
For, hurrying blinds the mind’s eye –
And is a waste of your precious time.

The Blank Page

“It’s thirty minutes into the examination.”
So went the invigilator’s announcement.
In the silent room, her voice reverberated.
Grabbing the attention of all the students.

The only sound that followed thereafter
Was the scribbling of pens on the papers,
Intermittently punctuated by the rustles
Of notes laden pages being turned over.

And this was the case for all except one.
He, too, sat with his head lowered down.
Except that his answer sheet was blank,
And he was thirty minutes into the exam.

He was staring at the empty white paper –
Beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
It was at that moment that he could hear,
“Read it again, you’ve studied this before.”

“Read it,” coaxed the page that was blank.
“You know the solution to the question.”
With renewed hope, he reread the query.
In his mind, the answers started forming.

Soon the pages were not blank anymore.
He passed the exam with a decent score.
For truth be told, my dear friends,
A blank page is never ever silent.

My Secret Garden

In the secret garden of my mind,
There are blue skies and sunshine.
Flowers bloom in myriad colors.
Birdsongs echo in the lush bowers,
Ushering hope and good tidings.
With the blessing of eternal Spring.

Ode to the Postcard

O Postcard! I miss you so!
With pictures full of colors and life
And little handwritten notes,
You captured moments in time.

You no longer arrive at the door.
No longer do people want to write.
It’s the age of IM and do you know?
Emojis and texting rule, but IDKY.

With you, words would often flow
Thoughtfully penned line by line.
Little bits of the heart and soul
That kept relationships alive.

Even the beautiful photos spoke
Of visits to people and places nice.
Invitations, news, updates, and more,
To send a postcard was just fine.

Now you are just a memory
Of the lives of people long forgotten,
Kept in museums for all to see.

Or locked in a chest in the attic.
Sometimes, sold as a collector’s item
Inspiring poetry and stories.

The Last Soldier

The battle was very fierce with loud and blazing guns.
The bodies of friends and foes lay fallen all around.
And when the last bullet had left the metal muzzle,
An eerie silence rose and, through the air, it wafted.

Among the lifeless soldiers, who were scattered everywhere,
There was one warrior whose breath hadn’t left him yet.
Alone, he lay on the battlefield, wounded and bleeding
Unsure of whether he himself was alive and breathing.

And, as he lay in pain, the events flashing in his eyes,
He thought of his comrades who had laid down their lives.
There, he kept passing in and out of consciousness.
Even the breeze around him was still, as if it too was dead.

The last question that came in the mind of that last soldier
Was – what all of this was for – but there was no answer.
With this last thought, everything went blank finally,
And when he opened his eyes, in a hospital was he.

His leader came to him and adorned him with a medal.
And that was when he knew that they had won the battle.
To his friends, family, and duty, the soldier then returned.
Yet, that question that he had was never ever answered.

The Magic of Love

One beautiful rainy day,
A mischievous demigod
Threw a love potion in the air
And it mixed with the clouds.

So, the love-raindrops fell
On all who walked around,
And everyone who got wet
Forgot hate and fell in love.

The potion worked differently
For each person the rain fell on,
Changing hearts and relationships
And the way that people thought.

And so the miserly moneylender
Smiled at those who owed loans,
And the sullen vegetable seller
Did not fight over the tomatoes.

The differences were forgotten
Of races, colors and religions.
Everyone looked at each other
With a feeling of acceptance.

And, in the evening after sunset
The people of the little town
Lit a large bonfire in the square
And around it they danced.

No one cried or complained.
They laughed and sang together.
And, all this lasted for one day.
The next day it was all over.

Then, all the Gods in the Heavens
Saw the scenes and were shocked.
They couldn’t reach an agreement
On the actions of the demigod.

The people, on the other hand,
Woke up later on the next day
With memories of the experience,
And their hearts had now changed.

We all need some magical rain
Laced with this love potion
To see beyond all prejudices
And end hateful emotions.

But is a demigod who we need
For this change to come about?
Or can we each bring this effect
With the magic of our own love?

Puppets

Puppets – that’s what we are
On the largest stage in the world.
We think we hold the controls,
But the truth couldn’t be farther.

We all need to play our parts
In our many assigned roles.
The stage is grander than we know.
We have to be masters of our arts.

The strings holding us together,
The acts that steal the show,
The stories that ebb and flow,
Are all by the Master Puppeteer.

We are all cosmic performers
On a stage that grows and grows,
We will continue until our last hour –
Till the time the curtain falls.

My Midnight Journey

Once upon a moonlit night,
When the breeze was cool
And the stars were bright,
Up, I flung a line and hook.
I caught a comet buzzing by.
I zipped past the silver moon.
She winked at me with a smile.
I went on into the dark blue
Flanked by twinkling fireflies.
I met the magical fairies, too,
With glowing unicorns as rides.
They gifted me a pair of shoes
To skip across the midnight sky.
They played a song on the lute
And bid me stop and sing awhile.
We danced to the beat of the tune
And ate our fill of moon pies.
Till I heard a bird sing, “Cuckoo.”
It called out to me many times.
I rubbed my eyes, and then, I looked
At the wall-clock as it struck five.
O ’twas but a dream so beautiful.
A journey that was entirely mine.
A dream like a tiny drop of dew –
One I’d remember for a long time.

No Sympathy

Show me not your sympathy
If I stumble and fall.
Instead, lend a hand and applaud
As I get back on my feet.

Show me not your sympathy
If I say I’m sad and lonely.
Instead, come over and talk to me
Till I forget that feeling.

Show me not your sympathy
If I feel I’m bogged down.
Instead, let me hear you talk about
The things that make me happy.

Show me not your sympathy
It is of no use to me.
Instead, it’s what you do, certainly,
That will help me in the healing.

The Thorns in Our Path

‘Tis not the roses, but the thorns in our path
That turn us into warriors by making us strong.
If you just think about it, you would understand,
There would be no heroes without the villains.

Fairy tales wouldn’t have happy endings without the evil witches.
We wouldn’t know success if the challenges never existed.
Yes, it’s all about the way life creates a balance
To mould us all into various versions of perfection.

The thorns in our path are actually blessings.
Without them life would be endlessly boring.
There would be no wishes or prayers.
There would be no heaven or hell.

The thorns in our path may hurt or make us bleed,
But we need to accept them wholeheartedly.
Only then would we search for ways to tackle them.
Only then would we make progress in our lives again.

The Past

Sometimes it becomes difficult
To put the past in perspective.
Then, consider the butterflies
Beautiful as they fly and alight.
Does their past matter presently,
Or is it a milestone in the journey?

If we wanted an answer to a query
Related to science or even fairies,
We’d search for that in a book,
Or the Internet is where we’d look.
The past is just such a reference
It holds our entire life experience.

We can always refer to its pages
For solutions in our life’s stages.
This is how we all learn and grow
It is the best teacher we’ll know.
Yes, the present is where we live
With the cues that the past gives.