Meenas Poems2020 is about to dawn.
Let us welcome the year
with cheer and gusto.
Let this decade witness
peace and goodwill.
Let it not be one that
does not reflects terrorism.
Let the ten years encounter
success and achievements .
Let they bring joy
and happiness to all .
Wishing my readers
a very Happy 2020.-
The days that go by their count
those that come
after full moon,
new moon hold significance
as being auspicious, inauspicious,
good and bad.
Forbid the eighth day
as it connotes retrogression,’
the ninth calls for lesser progression,
the fifth assures prosperity
while the fourth and sixth
ensure progress.
The premier is forbidden
the second is better,
while the third, seventh
and tenth have their own
significance neither
good or bad.
Do they really bear
any relevance? Men differ.
It is the numbering
nothing else, no desperate
experiences being tagged,
has become a practice
from long unknown
attributing dire
consequence to the
sequences,
as i make way to school.
I see through the glass
find my mom sitting pretty.
Neatly dressed in ironed sari
glancing through the newspaper.
It is I who has to go to school
while she spends her time happy.
It is lunch time. Return home
for lunch. Mom is busy playing
Veena, Melody flows. I finish meals
get back to school in a jiffy.
My eyes turn yellower still.
She is bestowed with the best
while I go up and down
every day. I curse myself.
One day I will be like her,
I console myself. That day comes
no sooner, alas! I am nowhere near
to her status. My hands are always full,
domestic chores keep demanding,
business calls allow no quietude.
I never make big off any venture,
yet keep running all through.
The yellow in my eyes slowly
wanes. A trace of it remains, though
The comforts my mother enjoyed
could never become mine.
The expertise she possessed
made her blessed while I remain
an ordinary woman, who
has to be alert always
to the duties that govern till life
calls quits.
Like to extract,
not anything serious,
like deducing scientific
formulas, just juice.
Being a lover of fruits
squeezing whatever ,
apple, pomegranate,
orange, guava, celery.
The colours that flow
fascinates, I eye with nostalgia,
the myriad shades
being the outcome.
The whiz sound of the juicer
along with the churning
the fruit goes up and down
a cycle of process.
While others think of
space and its expeditions
wonder, how this juice making
sends raptures,
An Epicurean!
It is turning a nightmare,
travel has become a tedium,
a morsel of food partaken
in an event, a restaurant
converts into an agitator,
acts uneven causing
an uneasiness beyond
tolerance.
Having been a lover
of home food, that being
more so on the ones
cooked self, an occasional
meal elsewhere did
not do much harm, managing
well within my capacity
I kept going without fuss.
The twist to the tale
found in the latest
being a week ago,
I find myself snuggled
in the bed, with high
temperature, cough,
and indigestion all
embracing me with
much love, I lie half beaten.
It has been a long week,
one of no work nor play
just lying in bed tossing
feeling delirious,
Never could I imagine
had been idle throughout
neither time governs
nor time introspects.
Most of the time
lay like a log, motionless
oblivious of the world
wane and exasperated.
I did come to life,
the household is neat
none to disturb or meddle
all in place, organized.
Then, is it I? who makes
the place messy, My setback
is part of the game. I realize.
No one is inevitable.
The staff behind the counter
dressed in black, nice and robust
walk in at 9, 10. 11.
8 am being the official time.
They do not take seat at once,
loiter for a few minutes,
smile at the applicants
that being one of contempt
They display an air of authority
as if they are heroes
recline on their seat greet each other
then start their work.
Speak to the applicants with disregard,
make them wait unnecessarily
place them in anxiety, they who
had been waiting from & in the morning.
Wicked they are with an awkward smile,
favouring those who give them kick backs
while those who come on their own
had to wait for hours and even days.
A simple approval turns complicated
Well, that is how it happens
when you live in an alien land.
it is always your Country– the best.
The racial prejudice
found in the West
spreads to the east
with the predominant
race showing supremacy.
The other races
brought by the British
to work in the plantations
and do business
stand left out.
A dismal attitude
prevails in government
offices, where the officials
disregard the races
with scorn .
The rulers ignore
the hard work of the races
humiliate them,
tease and sideline
the genuine inmates.
Governance has its eyes shut
while the officers keep no time
come and go. take intervals
whenever they like,
all belonging to the majority.
They turn corrupt
as they receive
a portion of the fees
collected by the agents,
neglect those who apply in person.
Put those who come direct
to hardships, make them
wait for hours while the
agents the same individuals
come again and again.
That is how the country
performs, with no order,
no cordiality, no system
only for the money
that transpires .
it is expected
nothing new
from the one
who lives a life
of deceit.
It is not a surprise
to see him in town
moving as though
with a purpose
busy and tied up.
He borrows, squanders,
speaks lies, cheats,
talks as though
he is genuine just
to evoke sympathy.
He is loyal to none
plays on their weakness
extracts whatever he can
walks off with that easily
a great going indeed.
Going through the cas sheets
filed over the years
find them of no value.
What is the conflict all about?
A fight for rights,
a tussle for a fair deal.
Going to the financials,
I realize a large amount
has gone to the solicitors.
The time spent is a decade
and more. A period of
no progression.
Sit back with a sigh,
I have been a part of this
all the while.
Well, being left with none
other,I bemoan my predicament.
Distress sets in.
My participation has made
me stronger,undaunted
I remain.
That being my reward,
Meenas Poems 