reverberation thoughts

On Becoming A Mother

This day a few decades back.

 I was just out of college,

Right out of my examination hall,

A few months over twenty-one,

Holding my mother”s  hand,

I walked into the hospital.



Biting my lips,

Squeezing my hands,

Trembling with fear

Squirming in pain,

I got into labour.



The Gynaecologist  is  at work,

Engaged in the process,

My mother  pats my head,

As I endure the pain,

While going through labour



It is a girl, cries the Doc,

Nay, it is a boy,calls the nurse,

As the baby glides through

I smile in exhaustion,

 While  I  hold my son close .



 He is a pinkish hue,

With a velvety black hair,

His bright big eyes

And dainty lips

Make me swell  with pride.


 The day , this year.

My son, though a man now,

Is still  a babe to me,

I love you  so much dear!

I send my  bounteous blessings

While you  .celebrate your birthday 

Miles away from me.












subscriptions thoughts turmoil

Gunning The innocent

A heartless sprawl,

A wicked prowl,

A  deadly harm,

A ruthless hound,

The Maoists   infringe.



A sudden attack,

A speedy  track,

A severe shoot

A bloody splurge,

The Maoist  ignite.





A gory splash,

A wrenching trash,

A collective massacre,

A blemished debacle

The Maoist incite.




A gruesome  aggression

A terrible  repercussions,

A melancholic sobriety,

A  depressing overture,

The Maoist inject.



A communal flaying,

A communist exploiting,

An arsenal deluge,

The Maoist indulge in,

Gunning the innocent.