What to do is a big confusion as
Everything in this World is so confusing
Confusing it is to get up or sleep a little more
Confusing it is if I sleep what about my health
Confusing it is to think if my health fails
Confusing is to think if anything of this world
Is really going to be affected by my being alive
Confusing it is to think if the world is not
Going to be affected why should I get confused
Deciding not to confuse my readers
Here, I rest my case of confusion
She called him and asked can we talk?
He said, sorry Mom! a bit busy now,
After two days, she called him again
He said the same answer, without change
Then one day he called, the ring remained on
A voice answered, this lady died two days ago
A kind she, even donated her body to the hospital
Said, son should not be disturbed even for funeral
I cried for days, of serious pain in shoulders
Until one day I realized. I had grown wings to fly
She muttered in anger as she spoke to her daughter
I don’t know why this man, just known on Facebook
Day after day, he waits only just to argue with me
Waits to criticize, my every work, every day on Chat
The daughter called this facebook man, and said,
Thank you! my friend, to help me like this, as I asked
Your arguments and comments keep my mother
Alive, every day, from her painful dark loneliness
Keep commenting, and make her life alive, every day
Maybe just argument, but for me, you are the very reason
She is alive, to answer your argument she lives every day.
You, Energetic young men, and women of today
You are all very precise, smart in everything
Not only do you all work hard, and move upward
In every part of your life, you are sure to shine
Smartly you plan, for every day of your future
Your insurance for a car, house, kids’ education
Insurance for health in every aspect of life too
OH, God!! You plan so well knocking the old to shame
But a very important thing, you left off, not insured
When tomorrow, you walk out of this job, so good
Suddenly, you are enveloped in a huge silent zone
All the friends, you lived with for years, almost all hours
Now disappears, along with the job you worked
Your cell silent too, no doorbell, no kid’s noise, no one
All alone you ache, for a voice to hear, share or care
Why, not a single one, has time for you, you wonder?
So dear, if you are at forty now, start a good future plan
It is insurance, for retired days, human warmth, love
Join groups, to preserve nature, stray animals, or water
Keep building these bonds stronger, earnestly, like a job
Then, when you reach sixty, retire, from your regular job
These loved ones, outside the family, Humanity you nurtured
Will keep you really rich, and warm with voice, love and work
This Insurance alone, if you planned, will keep you healthy
Away from that world of depression, loneliness and dejection.
A single white Mogra fragrant
Along with a twig of green leaves
Sat quietly under the broad pillar
Just, very near the temple steps
She, coming inside the temple
Straight away went near the pillar
Picking Mogra flower in her hand
Touched her teary eyes with the flower
Keeping it inside her purse, she moved
Yes, this Mogra was not meant to adorn
The long lustrous shining hair of her
But, it was a message between the two
Young longing, loving fluttering hearts
This cruel world did not allow to merge.
In all your run to complete, your deadlines your work
Working so hard, day and night sometimes you have to
Skip all your lunch or dinner, even your deep sleep
But, with all this around you don’t forget one thing,
Your loved ones, your family, their tireless backing
Their toil, endless support, remain in the shadows
Remember all these, which you are chasing now, one day
Will disappear into nothing, and leave you in a huge void
The only ones, which will stay ever with you, are your loved ones
Their love, concern and care, will never grow old, or weaken
So, cherish them just now, without delay or hesitation
Drench them in your love, give them ample time of yours
Openly show your love, it is needed to be expressed in loud
Your family, your wife, and children give them abundant love.
As I child I did watch him fascinated
Always he followed me wherever I go
If I enter a dark place, not lit well
He will hide himself, so not to be seen
Growing up, when my life struggles started
Yes, the shadow was always with me still
But, it is not the dark shadow, formed in light
This shadow was of my worries, which followed
This shadow was not that friendly shadow
As he refused to disappear in dark or light
Whether awake or asleep he stood the same
The shadow, of worries, never left my side, alone
Now flat on the bed as I lay staring at the ceiling
Wonder where did all those shadows vanish too
Deadlines, dates, times all vanished I the immovable,
How I yearn now, for a shadow at least, for company.
Engrossed deeply was he in working with his brush
Painted every delicate minute curve of line with care
The bathing lady, with wet cloth clinging to her every part
To him, it was not a woman’s body but just a painting.
Turned around, hearing a voice from his back
To see a woman, a mild lady dressed in a simple sari
“Is it necessary for you to paint like this?” she asked
“Can’t you see the beauty in your own, well-dressed mother?”
He laughed aloud with his pride and sarcasm
“Lady, you know not the finesse of art, its pride
My pictures are sold for millions of rupees, they
Only adorn the corporate, the rich people’s walls”.
The woman walked out sadly, with a sigh as he looked
His daughter rushed in, weeping pitifully loudly, just then
Seeing her dress torn and hanging pitifully on her body
Too shocked by this sight, he rushed over and hugged her tight.
Among her stammering words of painful crying
She said, “Papa some men on bikes, pulled my dress
Laughed loudly and said, “Why not we see this beauty?
Your father paints this every day as art to earn millions.”
“Papa, luckily a lady, like an angel sent, held me tight
When all the men in the crowd watched silently and mutely
She took all the blows of the wretched wolves on her
Until the police arrived, and caught them, she stood guarding me.
The heavy rain outside splashed water deep inside, she moved
As she reached the door, she saw women waiting for shade from the rain
Crying loudly, she ran to her and hugged her tightly weeping
Said, “Papa this is the angel I told, who saved me, my life.”
Teary eyes he now decided, his art will now respect women
At least he learned his lesson in time, to change for good, but others?
Will they learn not to shame women in poems and paintings?
Understand that their mother, wife, and daughter are all women too.
Our fingers, our existence, Adar, contract, signature
Every moment of our life, they breathe for us to move
Few are decorated, with rings, nail polish, Mehandi
But the most really beautiful fingers are the only once
That one, which wipes the tears of the poor, the hurt
The ones which lift a fallen down, which plants a tree
Best is that raises in a salute to Our flag and our Soldier
From a teacher, to the parents 