Tag: Children

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Switch ons and Switch offs


It is a twinkle for months together,

It works for a specific time altogether,

Twinkle does it for 3 hours in the morn.

It recedes to a hole in the post morn.

Then it comes out in the afternoon.

Again  for three hours it lights up in the noon

Back it goes down in the dusk.

Remains so almost in a husk.

Appears for an hour from thence.

Quickly disappears  from shining hence.

Surfaces again for an hour-long.

Hides itself in pitch dark for little long.

Shoots up from nowhere all at once.

Will it sustain the switch offs in a sense?

What is it all about? you may wonder.

It might be Greek or Latin to you.

Well, that is what we endure everyday.

Switch ons and switch offs of electricity through the day

Make us wriggle in scorching heat

Affect the industrial output in a beat.

Lets the children study with candles lighted.

The administration  goes about with mirth elated.

Do you want to know about the place,I am talking?

It is Tamilnadu, the southern state of India, in the awakening,

Nevertheless, they say India is shining incredibly!  all the more.

I want to bring to light this failure of electricity to the world more and more

 

 

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Schools Today


Schools are production houses akin to industries

They are into manufacturing  process with diligence,

Children are spun into yarn without any thick and thin,

Then woven into weft and warp  without any fault,

Finally  they find their light more or less like a cloth

 

Schools are into intense competition,

Learning by rote is the only assumption,

Reading becomes a mere  automatic application,

Writing takes the form of  just copying,

Comprehension is nowhere to be found.

 

Children perform under pressure,

Losing their childhood in the course,

Scores usurp the central place,

Assimilation takes the back seat,

It is a mechanical mess up.

 

Tests and exams are predominant,

High grades are the goal of the parents,

Streams of examinations besiege the young mind,

Abandoning them into a cess pool of valuation,

Dooming them to a world of professionalism.

 

Each child has a liking of its own,

Each one can live his life  only once,

Robbing them of their play and leisure,

Compelling them to forsake their ambition,

Is a dreaded sin than any other.

 

Schools with excessive achievements,

Steal the show and grab the status,

Their demands make us fall back,

The education imparted is no way fabulous,

Yet we find a long queue  waiting in their gates.

 

Two and a half-year old has  to take a test,

Parents have to attend interviews,

Those who are supposed to be in the cradle,

Come out to face the stern teachers,

The sweet smile converts itself to a loud cry.

 

Oh! what a cruelty  the children undergo,

Where are you Blue cross and Red cross?

Taking care of animals is humanitarian,

How do you miss the plight of the toddlers?

Could you not do anything to save them?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dash Out


The school bell rang for the day,

The children scrambled fast in a gay,

 They packed their bags in a fray,

 Then ran out of the campus like a ray,

The movement resembled a lively dash out.

 

The curtains came down on the stage,

The play was about the medieval age,

The enactment was of an eloquent engage,

There was a loud ovation of a great range,

The dispersal reflected  a pleasant dash out.

 

There was an agitation in the town,

The agitators shouted in a high tone,

It was a protest distinctively shown,

The Police dispersed them with a firm  foot down,

The confusion led  to a ghastly dash out.

 

A sudden fire broke out in a high raised building,

The red tongs blew fiercely  unyielding,

The inmates  scuttled up and down wailing,

The fire fighters were desperately struggling,

The precipitated race was a panic dash out.

 

Dash outs are both pleasant and hurried,

They pronounce an acceleration scurried,

They are  fast momentum unusually levied,

Expressing at times a cheer of high breed,

Extending mostly a fear of tensed creed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Writing on the Wall- Part Two


Occupied mostly with mundane chores,

Missed the call of my son at the door,

Running here and there in the peak morn,

Brushed aside the cry of the little don,

Preparing hectic for the day’s ordeal,

Forgot the little one’s important deal.


He demanded a paper to scribble,

I gathered  myself into a crucible,

Relaxing in the couch  with closed eyes,

Getting restless he cast the dice,

Took dozen crayons to the beautiful wall,

Unaware of his attempt I cuddled like a deflated ball.


He drew images large and small,

Making his father look tall,

Figuring me as a  petite dame,

Himself as a bright boy to name,

The colours red , black and blue.

Made the wall resemble a gaudy  true.


The white wall became a canvas pretty

To the little one’s  imagination dainty,

His world consisted of three,

Father, mother ,himself  in a spree,

Stealthily he walks across to me,

Reclines in my lap like a gentle be.