The Toil

The sweat goes without saying

through the throng in a going

with only a few being occupied

the rest remain satisfied

enjoying the fruits of the hard-working

passing comments without  reckoning

not doing things at all in the move

but  kidding over that being done with a reprove

building over the perspiration of those who do

finally ejecting them out from the main stream in a go

that has been the fate of those who toil

not leaving anything in the midst of the boil

tending with great care and attention

really getting nothing back only detention.



Actions break Evolution Experience feelings Interpretation learning Poet Theory thoughts turmoil

The Tale Of Blank.

Everything ended up in a blank.

There was none to bank.

The heart sank.


All issues drew a blank.

Nothing was above rank.

The mind sank.


Most experiences pointed to blank.

They lay above the tank.

The emotions sank.


Part of life was blank.

It exceeded the clank.

The hope sank.


Little cries imposed a blank.

The weeps overwhelmed the crank.

Death sank.










Banking sector in India thoughts turmoil

The Merchant Of Venice.-Modern.

Apologies to the bard on the outset,

Merchants did live in his times,

Portia   won laurels and encomiums,

Her name has stood the tests.



Banks have taken the  financiers’ garb,

They  are no more institutions,

They  exhibit no compassion,

 As they essentially  rob.



Shylock demanded a pound of flesh,

Banks extract ounces of blood,

Forcing the borrowers to shred,

 By pressurizing them under stress.


Interest keep the bank working,

While nominal index is the requirement,

High rates  reign the disbursement,

 That renders  the taker to a cruel dealing.



Securities are for guarantee,

Never for undue extractions,

The institutions resort to  distractions,

As they proceed to encash on  warranty.



Half the life goes out fighting,

The officials go in and out,

In the course of  default,

Plunging the borrower to a  circumventing.



Greed of Shylock was  a theme,

Eulogized by Shakespeare,

Avarice of the bank causes despair,

As sung by his fraternity with a less gleam.