Far ! Far ! Somebody is in need

Far ! Far ! Somebody is in need--Let me soak miseries all
Let my tear drop

Where there is hunger and pain

And too many sandy grain

For a single drop of rain;

Where in eyes drained, hopes never prop,

Lord! Let my eyes give fullest crop!

For their slightest pain

Let my heart bloody drain

The terrain, where death grope.



Let that infant’s puzzled look,–

Due to unholy experiences first–,

Cast gloom, pain over my face

For the childhood hanged by hook,

Let me begone of my thirst!

Hold me back from life’s race.

Moral Dilemma

A tiniest of puppy was stranded on a busy road. Before it added to the sins of a fastly moving wheel, I picked it up and placed the tiny being on pavement. Driven by larger selfish cause of reaching office on time, I hastily moved ahead. But the obliged little thing was running after me as fast as it could. I just ran myself out of its reach. But while doing so I felt like doing more bad than good.


Now the dilemma arises. Is it possible to do a good deed in part? Or goodness requires the completion of a cause? Just because most of us are incapable to see through our act of beneficence to its destination, is it justified not to take that littlest of step which might keep the chances still alive for someone in need?

On Intimacy with Mysterious Moment

99. On Intimacy with Mysterious Moment




Hath I known the time

When the sleep came

Over me like the name;

Thou great mystery infinite!

With that instant to ignite,

I could light small rhyme :

First maiden to be kissed firstly,

Or, ye lightening sky briskly

To quench the thirst of yore

Eagerly awaiting first downpour.

Me doth but fail,

Like a disappointed lover hail

The start of love days :

Gaze first, first meet,—

Time caught in crazy ways,

Again but sadness beat

Its unlyrical, unrhymed tomber,

Lost is that instant

In noise huge of the bomber.

Pseudo-secular drama

Well so much for deliberately leaking the Liberhan Commission’s report to divert the public angst against the Hindutva proponents. What about massacre of 5000 innocent Sikhs in 1984. Any takers for justice in that? In 1992 a structure was stage-managed to be broken for political gains. In 1984, it was the real flesh and blood that spattered streets of Delhi. Who was ruling at centre in 1992? How can the central government wipe its hands clean of an act perpetrated in a state when there were intelligence reports regarding the impending destructive task by the Kar Sevaks? It was just like allowing your enemy to commit a murder so that the foe can be held guilty. Congress government did only that. And ask the pseudo-secularists isn’t it just plain communalism to politically appease a particular section always citing the wrongs committed against it by the political opponents? Political action and reaction mean the same as far as communalism is concerned.

100. Summer Flower

100. Summer Flower




I was born on this day,

Quarter century old,

Time's scythe takes hold

Around years, months on 5th May,

And the hot summer pay

For the cake gold,

Lies which in barn to be sold,

While sandy swirls make hay.



Thank thee O summer,

Only thou show passion for the child;

Arriving like the flower late,

Becomes who then a dreamer,—

Summer flower; without singlest trace wild,

Oh! The flower with unflowery fate.





101. Night Song



O Cuckoo, thrown destitute,

Singst thou now nigritude :

The beautiful rhymed song,—

For whom? Wait who hung

In adopted nest and parents deceived;

Mistook as nestlings conceived.

O singer of conceited bravery,

On this night dreary,

Drive they competers out

To eat whole food; become stout.



O foolish songy mother,

I blame thee not; migratory, wind flown,

Spring abandoned thou either,

Summer gusts left thee alone,

Now, like nightingale thou singst

A long song for night :

Feel I thy Florence nurst;

The rhymed heal over distruct,—

A day's war we swampt,

Thou now wander with lyrical lamp.



How unmotherly thou art!

Not to pour ditty whole

Upon thy eggs waiting hatch,

Like black Goddess, thou dart

The blackness as mother sole,

Lulling lolly thine match,

The life song over night's camp,

Thou keep life's lamp

Burning with thy awake,

Please, keep singing for our stake.

101. Night Song




O Cuckoo, thrown destitute,

Singst thou now nigritude :

The beautiful rhymed song,—

For whom? Wait who hung

In adopted nest and parents deceived;

Mistook as nestlings conceived.

O singer of conceited bravery,

On this night dreary,

Drive they competers out

To eat whole food; become stout.



O foolish songy mother,

I blame thee not; migratory, wind flown,

Spring abandoned thou either,

Summer gusts left thee alone,

Now, like nightingale thou singst

A long song for night :

Feel I thy Florence nurst;

The rhymed heal over distruct,—

A day's war we swampt,

Thou now wander with lyrical lamp.



How unmotherly thou art!

Not to pour ditty whole

Upon thy eggs waiting hatch,

Like black Goddess, thou dart

The blackness as mother sole,

Lulling lolly thine match,

The life song over night's camp,

Thou keep life's lamp

Burning with thy awake,

Please, keep singing for our stake.

Always there are easiest of routes to the toughest of destinations. Every hard situation has the softest of a solution. So there is no hard problem in the real sense. Our solutions make them so. When in the face of a tough situation blame your solution not the situation. Isn’t life all about taking smart short-cuts to beat the puzzling array of problems randomly cropping around us? So be the solution provider. Behind most complex of a phenomenon there is amazing simplicity. Read that. Those cute fundamentals will tell you that every situation is a living being. It has a soft and sympathetic message for you only. Listen to these delicate murmurs and it will help you in breaking hardest of superficial, outer cores.