Mystical It Seems—Ghazal


Enthralled by the serenity around
I pedalled the boat on the Ooty lake.

It is locked in discreet silence
seems to me it flows for my sake.

The ripples murmur gently
while I sail munching my cake.

Except for me, I see none
my eyes rest on the breaks.

The wind brushes past my face
Strikes hard on my face causing an ache.

The peace I experience
rejuvenates my mind on all takes.

Having imbibed a feel of transcendentalism
I forget to claim my stake.

That be not with Nature alone
almost, in all spheres including the fakes.

Rains are a Flourish


I see bare trees
bereft of leaves
with dry twigs alone.

They look naked.
Birds and bees
condemn them.

The trees are scorched.
They are devastated.
Gaunt and haggard they are.

The heat wave makes them sigh.
They panic heave and almost die.
Evoke compassion.

From nowhere comes the rain.
Replenishes the earth.
There is jubilation

Leaves come out in green.
The trees regain their composure.
Rains are a flourish.

 

The Mayhem


The mayhem across the seas
shooting and fighting for no reasons
causes a devastation unprecedented.

The way the destruction goes about
a suicide bomber, a reckless driver,
creates a depression uncalled.

The killing of children in schools
that of the adults in restaurants
extends a disillusionment.

The world follows a criminal path.
security is missing whatsoever.
We live in fear.

The Spirit of Migration


Migrating from a place,
found from days long ago
for the quest of money
as seen in communities
could never be quenched
by the impositions of restrictions.

They happen with a force
unable to comprehend
conceived with an acumen
the spirit of crossing the seas
never abates at any time
by the rules and regulations.

The Neem Florets


The tiny neem flower
pale green in colour
falls down in a drizzle
with a gentle whistle.

The aroma it spreads
is unexplainable in all threads
a pungency with a bitterness
could be felt in their tenderness.

The value it shares
is beyond anyone’s dare
an appetizer with digestive enzymes
it finds its place in many dishes.

Soups and chutneys of the florets of neem
extend benefits so varied that none can deem
the Indian way to ward off infections
could be a study in reflection.

I see them around in my garden
a beautiful mantle laden
with these soft flowers all so picturesque.
They keep me in a berserk.

An Unknown Woman


There was a woman,
not  known  much
lived in oblivion
died so in the dark.
She  bore the suffering,
tolerated the humiliation
breathed her last seven decades ago
seven decades ago.
Thoughts  come from nowhere
almost like a volcano.
Her grandchildren cry with love
commend her qualities with pride.
I stand bewildered in shock.
My mind prods.
My heart aches.
Anything amiss?

Men do remember,
not in times of prosperity
only in periods of distress
recall the bygones especially their ancestors.

 

This way I wonder
Well, I know not why
am I the only one to think so
then let me be the odd one out

 


 

God’s Gift.


The things around fascinate me.
They hold me in a glee.

The neem trees shed their leaves.
They look bare as though in a grief.

The twigs appear brown
snap and fall down.

The fall of its tiny flowers
is likened to a shower.

They create a carpet of pale green.
They lie without a sheen.

The tree drops its fruits in scores
emanating a pungency in a close.

The neem tree is God’s gift to man
effective in its stand.

 

An Entertainer Not Always


A call from Nivedita
keeps me on toes.

She talks all subjects
politics, business with a force.

Goes on and on in a stretch
the interest of the listener grows.

She switches to ones of no importance
seems as though she has a poky nose.

Talks in length of her family
which echoes pride in a close.

She is an entertainer
on fewer occasions but, not always