Meenas PoemsIt is a quiet end
no fanfare,
like the way
you go to sleep.
The days furl
into nights. Darkness
confides in brightness.
Nothing more.
A birth is an event
sure to bring joy.
The year to be born
be filled with splendour.
Grace to the bygone!
Cheers to the future
A breeze strikes
one of benevolence.
Happy 2019!
The mild winters in town
bring infections many.
Dominance of Dengue
and Swine flu create panic.
I sneeze, cough incessantly
run high temperature.
Fear of contracting the viral
makes me nervous.
Unable to place my head
on a single pillow,I keep two. three
lie on the bed almost
in an angle of 60 degrees.
Tossing in my bed I dream of
wild things. I am attacked by a bear,
a lion growls fierce,
finally a tiger tears me apart.
“That is the end”, I cry.
The family rushes to my bedside.
Curse me for refusing to take medicine.
They turn frustrated.
I drink warm water, munch
black pepper.Take apple cider
vinegar with honey. I nurse myself
and regain my composure.
Am back.
Being a wedding of the richest
illuminations overwhelm
cuisines are multinational
entertainments abound
charter flights throng the skies
eyes look above
perhaps nothing to see on the ground
as gentlemen and ladies
clad in brocade and tussar silk
decked with diamonds
with feet an inch above
sail like a waft of air
laden with aroma
Hermes Birkin bags dangle
while Rolex watches tick
the bride and the groom
turn a speck in the ocean
where extravaganza gobbles.
solemnity.
That being the event of the year.
Few uncaught by the ostentation
Wish the couple austerity and wisdom
A wedding lights up the skies
illuminates the waters
enchants the air
causes the hills to gleam.
Grand and magnificent
I watch with awe
eyes remain stuck
while the jaws drop.
Eminence is the expression,
personalities, cuisines,
dance, drama and music
notch day and night.
Glamour overwhelms.
It is a marriage
where two souls unite
with love and romance.
The extravaganza
demonstrates the power,
the wealth, the stature
and the clout the family enjoys.
Astounded the world looks
at them. The event
being the wedding of the year.
Long live the newly married!
Wish them austerity
as prosperity abounds.
It is going to happen.
Vinola cries with joy.
Expectations mount.
she runs, sails and flies
Imagination overwhelms.
Expectations enliven.
“Tomorrow I will know”,
she says to herself.
Dies to see dawn,
turns restless.
It is early morning
Vinola has a quick shower,
dresses up in her finest attire,
looks all grace. I watch her close.
My happiness knows no bounds.
She picks her bag. Notice
an unusual glitter in her eyes.
A hardworking child, Vinola
should taste success.
Pray she be rewarded.
Living in a world of fantasy
she feels she is a princess.
Forgets that which surrounds her,
the house, the people,
the status and her capacity.
She believes she is superior
much above her kith
thinks she is beautiful
with expressive eyes
a quaint perception.
Feigns a pleasantness
and sweet behaviour
to hide the contraindications
of her inner self. Her smile
both delivers and detracts.
Watching her ambiguity
leads to a curiosity.
I attempt to find the truth.
Never could I as I get lost
in the pretensions.
Blasphemous ! cries Faulkner,
Annoyed he turns.
His eyes are red .
Spurns and scorns.
Blasphemous! he shouts more violent
than the first time.
Enraged he spills venom
Condemns and fumes.
Faulkner seems out of mind.
Baseless is his anger.
Stands furious. for not being
accorded a warm welcome.
Immature at the ripe age,
Faulkner walks away.
He has been so all these years.
Unchanged and hostile as ever.
Into over one of processes,
my hands are full.
A household, a business proposition,
and a social cause keep me on toes.
I try to put the domestic one at hold
but it turns imminent- a house.
The commitment is demanding.
I lose my equanimity before I accomplish.
That of revenue requires prudence
gather my wits to reach the target.
It is a click away, so near
still too far. Have to grab.
The last calls for compassion.
Being my forte I carry out with ease.
On the verge of fulfillment,
am certain to achieve— tranquility.
The three catch up, cripple and smother
being all in the game.
Too many ideas
too many thoughts,
too many talks,
too many proposals,
too many of all
keep me at bay.
Will I conclude?
Will I succeed?
Will I survive?
Will I implement?
Will I of all
pushes me to a corner.
Heads swirl,
eyes flutter,
jaws drop,
piquancy sets in.
Am perplexed,
I stare at the sky.
The little one
my grand daughter
ever affectionate
looks at me with no sign of recognition.
The day before
we played together
she hiding, I seeking,leaving no corner of the house everything being forgotten.
I go close to her
she runs away terrified.
Call her “Meenu”. She
being named after me.Hostile she turns..
This being in a wedding,
amongst relatives and friends.
They look at me
as though I am an unkind grandma Wriggle with discomfort.
I stay put in my place
bite my tongue
brush aside the tears
watch the ceremonies
with little.interest.
I walk towards the exit
deeply hurt,a tiny hand pulls the edges of my sari.find my lovely child,who cuddles and giggles.
