Month: November 2019

Living far away from each other,
mean my children and me for a decade and more
leaves me in a state of disillusion.

Mornings the chores keep me engaged
when darkness sets in, I begin
to feel the loneliness.

The calls connect me to the loved ones
for an hour or two cannot expect more,
they have responsibilities to take care.

I go to sleep with eyes heavily laden
being so for a while, startled
by a dream jump off from bed.

Stay awake through the midnight
memories slide through in a sequence
starting from childhood.

One by one they pass, I sit on the bed
A kind of juxtaposition, happy and sad,
the presentations lend a reflection,

of the past. They teach a lesson
as how one has to see through life
a conjecture of good and bad.

I place my head on the pillow
willing to be embraced by slumber,
I am placed in a status of inertia,
only to find myself lost to the world.

Having gone through
the best part of life.
I pass the remaining
deprived of enthusiasm

Beyond comprehension
I find myself, in a pool
of events, They are
demanding attention.

I enter the cesspool
unobtrusively. two at
home the rest
in my second home.

I am bewildered.
All being crucial
and vital. Require time
and finance

Once again I am
in the midst of action.
I struggle to do
justice to all.

Having lost the buoyancy
delegation of work
is the best resolution.
I tell myself.

My sons, who have flown
away from the nest,
should be recalled to
share the toil.

Will they join?
I deliberate for a while.
They will, I assure myself,as
my eyes turn towards the doors.

The dog next door
barks till hoarse
while she watches
a big fat cat cross.

The catty takes its time
walks lazily on the wall
making the dog to lose
voice.

Exhausted the dog
stretches on the floor
The cat quietly
relaxes under the tree.

Both wake up to the
the car’s honk.
Wagging her tail, doggy
rushes to meet the master.

Catty opens and closes
her eyes, mews,
the lady gently takes
her in her arms.

Both are fed well.
The dog goes for
a walk with the master.
The cat sleeps in the kitchen.

it is this day’s happening
I enjoy the hours greatly
Wantonly I shun my chores
to refresh.

Being a day of tedium
chasing through
for requirements
in the immigration
for long time visas.

Last renewal was
not so tiring.
The regulations have
changed. The officials
turn unfriendly, resent
direct applicants, insist
to come through agents.

The application is simple,
easy to fill, the conditions
do not pose tough.
Any one with education
can easily fulfill.

Early birds catch the prey.
The agents gather at 7a.m
obtain majority of tickets
from the counter make quick bugs
by selling to late comers

Ignorant of all these dealings
I go early, procure the ticket ,
sit for four and half hours
for my turn. Finally
I am called.

The officer scrolls up and down,
adjusts his glasses, reads word by word,
looks at me, scans my passport, fixed deposits
goes through the medical report,
for half an hour.

Finding nothing amiss. whispers
to his colleague in bahasa Meleyu
stamps with half mind. Asks me to
come after fourteen working days
to collect the visa.

Dozens of applications filed by
the agents go through very fast.
The officers pay special attention.
Talk with a smile writ large in the face.
Could be for “something” I infer.

Morning and evening
come and go,
how fast they appear
no one knows.

It is only now,
I got up from bed
it is already late
for me to go to bed.

So fast days go by
I have many more
to accomplish, before
I cross the shore.

Most of them half done
few on the verge of conclusion
Will I be able to complete?
A strange illusion.

I am no match
to the poets
of my time.

I write with a passion
that is all I know,
nurture no aspiration
just a write out of love.

Themes and imagery
come and go fast
I record a few
miss out many.

The ones I leave absent minded
could have brought fame
and recognition.Well.
that is not to be.

This is a confession
with a conviction.
I will write
till my last day.

It is the red colour ,
a very pleasant red,
vertical zari stripes
lie pronounced,

motifs of peacock
with released feathers
a dancing posture adorn
the borders.upper and lower..

The feathers decked
in ornate gems, of ruby,
emerald and sapphire,
look impressive.

The sharp beaks studded
with yellow diamonds,
seem to guard the ends,
an artistic arrangement.

while the pallu elaborates
a sketch of a resonating
infloresence, an exalting
status on the whole.

The texture being pure silk
elicits lustre and brilliance
forces the eyes to stay
never once able to cast away.

The piece of cloth is a sari
a masterpiece handwoven.
with the weaver spending
months to bring to perfection.

Going beyond the grandeur
lies the efforts of the weaver,
his skill is at zenith,
a painstaking attempt.

The silk from the worms
which feed on the mulberry
reared with care, the zari
is from pure silver,

Such being the craft
where one beats the other,
the raw material and the technique,
a master weave being the end product.

A portrayal of aesthetics,
one of chaste and style,
a grandeur, captivating the
eye and the soul.

A very long trial
has come to an end,
I feel happy.

One of adjustments
more of resignations
almost a let go.

Oh!! that is not to be.
Promises turn false.
Court orders are neglected.

Crowning all these aberrations,
a substitution to the original an
attempt to camouflage strikes rude.

Again a tedium prevails,
enraged wish to sue,
wisdom prevails.

A sit back, a deliberation,
directs to ways and means
to extort quick results.

They who harm wantonly
stay happy,ridicule me
enjoy my plight.

Let them rejoice.
let them celebrate,
That be their nature,

The morning I wake
go to the kitchen
my eyes still sleepy.

I tell myself
having no school
going kids,

Why I am in a hurry?
I keep going
‘through the chore.

unmindful of the necessity,
a practice for long
dies hard.

Right now in the ripe age
gathering my wits
I do my work,

one being cooking,
the other supervision,
another more the accounts.

Do I do justice to all?
Little I know, but
do with attention.

I recall the words.
the mind in itself
makes the heave of hell
hell of heaven.

it is the mindset
that does a lot more,
than the age.

Automatic goes the world
right from the entrance
gate to the kitchen
gadgets kick off.

It is very little we do,
even so. become
exasperated
at the end of the day.

Happened so last evening
my auto gate refused to open
however much I pressed
the switch and the remote button

Unable to go out, I relax
thanking the stars
for making me
to stay inside.

Imagining the plight
I would be, if I had
ventured out, I shudder,
No roof over my head.

I called the technician
who promised to come
the next afternoon. The scope
of traffic turns bleak.

it is an experience really
to be with my books
and music. Another gadget.
the mobile. extends my reach.