To the Mother

This day would earn wrath for its concealed scam,
Of planting these thorns under my unsuspecting feet,
For hiding my coat when the rains were to slam,
And turning success away, when my palms rose to greet.

Thy smile answered my knock* and eyes questioned my whine,
That wise brow that always soothed my contoured emotions,
The vessel that were tormented by the waves of the marine,
Has indeed found in the motherland, many curative lotions.

Where else could I ask tonight, this love so deep and wide?
Where else can I park this load and need nothing to pay?
In thy embrace, I hide my frame and yet have nothing to hide,
This world forever, is in need of the mother’s cradling sway.

In thy shadow my heart’s unformed stories find courage,
On thy virtuous palm, my tears are no acts of shame,
May this world that thee begot read thy unsaid message,
That it’s your winning smile that brings even the sinner to tame.

Thy winsome love is our lesson for admiration,
And thy embrace, the ocean that dissolves our gloom,
Your uncomplaining tears are a reminder of creation**,
May the Lord make this wide world worth thy womb.

* - Knock of the door

** - tears of pain during child birth

Breath

So overwhelming in silence that it evades memory,
This secret factory and its clandestine mission,
Of life’s endeavors chequered with sorrow and glory,
Is breath and its answers to heart’s ardent percussion.

Some find greatness in form, and some in wealth,
Some in their bloodline, while some in the miles they rove
Some in their fleet and some about envious health,
But where is glory in these without life-breath’s approve?

Victory to a sword is not blood but to it, a solemn respect,
Greatness to man is mere flatter without breath in his reins,
For sword and unrestrained breath are fury’s ready suspects,
Ask history-that helpless spectator to many bloody rains.

Like love whose depth is defined at the hour of separation,
On Death-bed’s stage, we will finally embrace this companion,
“One more hour” we would pine for, to postpone final vacation,
Till the fairies up there call our names in sweet union.

Tapping a Tender Coconut

This is a comparison of tapping a coconut, to a seeker of Spiritual Truth. One who seeks the coconut drink needs to overcome the height(of the tree), the hard outer cover, the stubborn fibres and finally the frame of the nut. Similarly, a Spiritual seeker needs to surmount attachments, blind belief in theory in books, self-love, pride arising from advancement etc to finally find his goal which is well hidden in his very self.

Each stage of the coconut hunting is described with the compared Spiritual seeker's journey described in Italics

1.
In the coconut grove and up the testing bark,
He strengthens his grip after every slithery lark.

Amidst many a loving kin I slip to a binding tune,
But the all-knowing books promise to take me past the dunes.

2.
Many a snarl overcome by his riveting belief,
He reaches to his fruit, alas in short-lived relief.

Practice and determination make me wise against delusion
But my newfound armor besieged by pride and her mission.

3.
A steel cold cover to break and unyielding strings to sever,
His bruised palms hold only one tool-faith that magical lever.

Hurdles this far have succumbed like butter to knife,
But did I know self-love would be my bloodiest strife!

4.
His muscles have withered and his voice wouldn’t reach his ear,
Every victory has been scoffed at by another riddle- so wry.
And when he placed the final blow with his determined gear,
He was awarded his drink, in all its sweetness and in fulfilling high.

Hours spent in discrimination, and books that were read,
But it’s the Heart* when found that the journey is done.
For many a wall surmounted and warriors sent dead,
But it’s when the throne annexed that the Fort declared won.

* The Heart here does not imply the physical heart but the very Essence of Inner Consciousness which the wise hail as God.

Two words for 'ya'!

When you deny her, her favorite jewel, it is an agitated “get lost”,
But it is a warm “come on” when she burns your choicest toast.

When your car, in first gear wails at her dressing room tile
It is a timeless “am done” screech with a glorious smile.

These days have given you miserly doses of football “guff”,
Yet her new hair-do, that you failed to note, reminds: “that’s enough”.

Roses and daisies might have threaten your calm brow,
All for that “my dear” after that evening’s even threatening row.

But when you knock her door with a “don’t disturb” key,
“and chocolates?” came the sting that was harder than bee!

Her “my goodness” has never revealed its true intentions,
But your constant “love you” get rewarded with periodic pensions.

Just as you draw close to her, intentions as chaste as white,
Your “I do” whisper gets returned with a loud “good night”.

Alas, life is a cruel game of two-worded scoffs,
The most harmless of them being a well timed "F___ __"

Note: These are random thoughts penned down, any resemblence to anyone is purely coincidential and hence unintentional. May undeserved fame for a certain two-word phrase be henceforth dissolved.

Kite Flight

When he first threw up the kite for me, the flight ended in a few seconds. The wind was blowing in the exactly opposite direction. After changing positions, and a few words of caution, he threw it up again. I started pulling at the string vehemently believing, the harder the pull, the higher goes the kite. I found the kite at my feet. A few such clumsy attempts passed by. The kite had now begun a graceful flight up in the sky. Just when I began to smile, I felt the first cut of the manja(glass string). I never expected bloodshed at kite-flying. I thought that was the safest of all games. Aghast at my bloody palm, I dropped the string, my friend dropped his spool, came running to nurse me and we lost the kite to a tree branch.
When I next began to fly with a bandaged palm(I felt like a hero already), I thought I had learnt my lessons. The kite was now flying high and I rejoiced my new position of an expert. I could now fly and talk to my friend at the same time, answer my mom’s tea-time calls and what is more, even sip hot tea. Then misfortune struck and I found myself with an empty string. I had not noticed that the kite was flying dangerously close to a cable and so, did not navigate it out of danger.

One fortnight after my first expedition I was a much better kite flyer, learning the tricks every day.


1. You have to know the nature of the wind, your greatest enabler before launching the flight.
2. You have to pull the string with the right intensity at the right time to set the flight.
3. You cannot care a penny about bloodied palms while flying a kite. That is routine. In fact, that is the motivator.
4. Never take your eyes off the kite however steady the flight is.

Four valuable lessons for a successful and enjoyable kite-flight.

Interestingly, they hold good for a successful relationship too. Hmm..intersting indeed.