Great Conversation

I had a long conversation
on the telephone
it was very long
but not at all tiring
we kept periods
one listened to the other
never got in between
it was interesting
I spoke with my maturity
nothing very high and wise
but a reflection of experience
the other end talked in his style
very sweet and inimical
raised his voice as though in an exclamation
spoke low as if in confidence
the whole hour went on toddler
I well into my late fifties
and he very much a year and a half
great was the time
lovely it was still more.


The Hit

It be a dash straight on the wall
hitting the forehead
that rising into a bulge
devastating moment it was
with the toddler crying with pain
the parents knowing not what do
shattered by the sobs of the kid
placing ice pack on the hit
the child crying even more
what a pain the poor one would have felt!
with tears rolling down his cheeks
sobbing intermittently for full twenty minutes
the sister standing aghast with a shock
looking at her brother crying loudly.
the entire household became paralysed
To everyone’s astonishment
the little boy walked towards his toys
Well! that be the way all kids behave
withtoddler the grown ups still being into the strike and dash.


A Call From Abroad



I get a phone call every morn

from a far away land across the seas

I eagerly wait for the call moving nowhere

as the caller speaks so loving and beautiful


Answering each of my questions

with a grin and giggle

his voice goes up and down like a song

holding a  frequency attuned to the replies.


He talks with an attitude mature

listening keenly to my words

responding appropriately to them

with a melodious tone and cheer.


He could well understand my language

never once he put a question forward

I could make out very little of his answers

which came out with a spontaneity  straight.


Curious to know who it would be

you would  have by now started to deliberate

let me reveal his identity in a way

that you could comprehend and admire.


The caller being none other than my cute toddler

just one and half years old  learning to speak

talks he in a language of his own

which I,  half a century and more, fail to decipher.





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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?