Best Poems From
(28th August 1961)
Life Must Go On
A little day and huge night
unpredictable rain with errant wind
biting cold and snowy sight
either way the winter is cruel
when people live a painful life.
The erratic climate reminds me
of the volatile behaviour of a new born child.
When the night spreads for fourteen hours
the day never breaks at dawn, it shrinks further,
the timid Sun hides it's face
behind the curtain of rain,
thy sky sneezes off and on
with the bewildered west wind fiercely blown.
When the Sun smiles reluctantly
the inclement weather looks good somehow
the smile returns to the lips
as if the petals of roses bloom.
But that condition never lasts long
the drizzle starts pouring down
from the nomadic clouds marching now and then.
A shy of relief that enlivens the life
for a while, gets covered with a shadow
of grief in the next moment.
There is no escape but to bear
till the time is matured.
When you have no cure
you are to endure. But
a midst the insurmountable ordeals
the life must go on, go on, go on......
Qr. No. C-7, Unit-ix,
(This poem has been written in the hostel room(west) no.16 of Somerville College, Oxford University on 08.01.2014 night while undergoing training from 4th to10th January,2014)
When waiting for a hair cut
I saw a rag clad lady baking cakes
Beneath a tree in front of a hut
Was sweating profusely
The summer morning sun was very cruel
And the humidity unbearable
The climate was unkind and harsh
An eight by eight feet hutment
Of polythene clad roof was looking like
A dungeon and housing a family of five members
A typical slum area of the market place
Where there was heaps of garbage here and there
Residents were accustomed to pungent smell and bad odour
A narrow passage was in-between the huts and
A tiny temple, the place of worship
That was the resting place of the market dwellers
The lady shouted at the younger son who had
Just finished his bath in a road side water tap
And he was completely drenched and bare
She too ordered him in local slang to convey the elder son
Roaming in the market carefree with birthday hangover
To take bath before the water supply gets discontinued at 8.30AM
And have a darshan to the God on this auspicious occasion
Conveying the message he came back quickly
And entered in to the hut
The lady expressed artificial anger on him
And directed the youngest daughter to
Transmit her instructions to
The eldest son for taking bath and to come soon
Her husband while changing
His wet clothes on the temple varandah
Could not digest the rudeness of his wife
Repeatedly expressed by her on
The conduct of the eldest child on his birthday
He cautioned the lady mildly
The youngest daughter intimated
In the mean while that her brother is
In waiting to take bath as the public water
Tap is over crowded. Restlessly the lady
Was baking the cake and doing
Other works in between with renewed enthusiasm
I was watching this fabulous birthday
Preparation of the entire family and became
Amazed at this matchless eagerness and curiosity
That is rarely found in the families living in plenty
It is always not true that people in lots
Will be happy always and people with
A little means of livelihood cannot enjoy life and live happily
It is the attitude how one accepts life
With what means one has in his kit.
I marked the insurmountable family bond
And mutual love and affection amidst acute poverty
Which are usually not seen in plenty?
The relation was pure, unadulterated
And minds were as transparent as morning sky
No hypocrisy, no artificiality, no back biting, nothing like
Unhealthy and unpalatable bickering were noticed
Looking at them I introspected myself
While waiting there calmly and felt
As if I have lost something very dear to me somewhere
But the very next moment I realised
I am endowed with immense pleasure
And have regained instantly some precious lost treasure
For last couple of days
I have an impetus to ponder over
Any one questions me or not
I intend to express my intention.
What is that?
I am allowed to be alone
Where there is silence all around.
I would plunge into deep penance
And listen to the whispers
Of the loneliness and the voice of silence.
I shall realize the echo of
My heart and what is in me
In my conscious, sub-conscious
And unconscious self
And to read me
Who am I?
And am endowed with what
To unfurl the petals after petals
Of my heart
I would prefer dark to light
I know light camouflages one
With gala and etiquette
To manifest the hypocritical
Civilization and its mundane ideology
Darkness eats away all artifice
It encourages and impels one
To relax the swinging tentacles
Like an emancipated reptile
When he reads himself bit by bit in silence?
London Bridge In A Stranger's Eye
Three and half decades past
a boy in far East at the shore of Bay of Bengal
when heard the London Bridge is falling down, falling down
he plunged in to utter remorse
why such a catastrophe is befallen
on the tormentors or the entire world is
on the threshold of annihilation.
Though he had a lot of anguish
against the perpetrators
who brought misfortune to the soil
he belongs to for centuries
and caused shedding tears from the eyes
of thousands and thousands of innocent mothers.
He wandered to decipher the reasons there of.
He had a childhood promise then
to remind the children of today of that far-off land
the misdeeds some of their fellow countrymen
committed for not less than three centuries
and took advantage of the innocence
of the aborigines there and across the globe.
But what a great surprise he encountered
to his dismay today when he watched the sight
in his unbelievable eyes as a mute onlooker,
London bridge has not fallen down till date,
instead is still going solid and as appears
it will remain still unyielding and firm as it is for centuries
and centuries to come to bridge the gaps
that exist between the East and the West.
The unknown child of the East is bemused
and taken aback with the marvellous preservation
of the antiquities and the reverence for the past.
The respect for the traditions and resurgence again and again
from the jaws of the debacle surprise the lonely spectator
who with inquisitive eyes visualize each of the items
which are preserved magnificently here and there.
Past teaches and enriches the knowledge to go further
and learn to rectify. The foundation for the citadel of
knowledge that was laid many centuries ago
has played an incredible role to bridge the relation
firmly time and again. Dynasties after dynasties
will come and go but the temple of knowledge
built beyond the dynasties in the divine soil will go on
bridging the gap among the nations and between
the East and the West in particular that the beholder envisages.
(This poem has been written in the hostel room(west) no.16 of Somerville College, Oxford University on 05.01.2014 night while undergoing training from 4th to10th January,2014)