PURPOSE

Aims, goals, plans, timetables
every word of purpose rooted
in every nook of my maternal house.

Childhood broom sweeps
but they come crawling back
to my beaming parents who
navigate them to me and my sibling.

Teen years slammed many a door
at those disgusting words then
yet they found their resting cot.

Youth conquered me
and slid them farther away
Every tiny achievement then
was a new wrapper for my ego.

Evading immigrations
my goals sneaked into
my dwelling in this country.

My occasional grey sprouting
hair do not miss
their conscious stare.

On days when my moods swing me
a friendly tug of goals whispers
"It's all right, you can do it again."

My present goals are only for my eyes
Tiny pleasures, whenever achieved
A treat, I strive to earn each day.

FUSION

 Shalini, a name synonymous with courtesy and modesty

She, a true depiction of unassuming simplicity

Hasn't even been  a year since l  met

yet feel her radiating warmth every time 

she is around.

Avneesh, the other name of Lord Ganesh 

or earth's caretaker

With open doors he welcomes

be it new year's eve or Holi.

His eternal hospitality is what

we all vouch for.

Both wedded into a 

harmonious blend of bliss and joy.

Privileged are those children 

born to such  beautiful parents,

blessed are those friends 

who found their companionship

fortunate are we all  to be a part of 

this beautiful day of their lives.

A lovely pair who illuminated 

all of our lives

his poems and affectionate smile,

her mouth sacking dishes and  self

determination to be on her own.

Wonder what other treasures 

will the intellectual  duo 

unravel on a sojourn 

we passengers wish to travel 

on their journey of a life time.

No wonder their lives are 

so intertwined,

His name ending in

the same syllable to begin hers,

Avneeshalini.

SHADES OF HAPPINESS

The tinge of rainbow colours on faces  

still poignant, scrubbing hard to scrape away each hue 

matching the setting sunrays on a cold Holi evening.

An invisible attire of  deep coloured love 

splashed on  milky white dresses

a colour no designer can create

an apparel no brand can put a tag on.

The  privileged washbasin mingled

with colours of  grey smiles and  bear hugs, 

The bathroom mirror envying the 

plastered smiles.

Blended  in each Indian's heart

the pink giggles, the green grins

pavements soaked in shades of yellow

drains spilling of red and pink

the wafting aromas and 

the dripping white laughter.

Colours do not brighten our lives

but love sprayed on near and dear ones.

Let us wish to be that  bright pigment

and lather away mankind's bleak stain of sorrows.

STENCH

soul's eye stench 

in carcass of social media

eyes in each picture

and post parched for 

innumerable sights

of likes.

THE TROTTING HUMAN

 Rumi ~ "Not the ones speaking the same language, but the ones sharing the same feeling, understand each other.

Every mother craves for the first utterance of her offspring,

at crawling pace words multiply, vocabularies enrich, 

sentences get knotted to convey racing thoughts.

Then every emotion, every object gallops 

for a label in not one but myriads of languages.

Yet every one feels capsized in the flood of alphabet 

eyes incessantly foraging for lifelines

to spill the feelings of the heart.

Languages mount on us stooping our backs 

we crouch yearning for the song of silence

groping for the sharing neigh that soothes our souls.

Is it a co-homosapien who soaked in dialects 

and languages offers us a caring ear,

or the four legged animals some, 

whom we tame for our companionship,

or the birds who perch on the sill

or the all pervading nature?

Usually a sheer spousal nod tranquilizes my aching feelings, 

the warm clasp of friends an assuring comfort at times

but many a time my agitated nerves crave for 

 a feel which is tender and 

where language becomes obscure.

IDENTICAL IDENTITY

Why not wrap the cloak of  harmony and exfoliate our egos

with soothing ointment of peace present in each human heart?

Let us scrape the epidermis of anger 

and wrap the visible clingfilm of amicability.

Why crave for amassing lands and regions,

when each one of us just needs few inches 

to be mingled with earth one day.

When will  we learn from the infant 

who gets up and walks in spite of innumerable falls.

Isn't it time we too try to provide a hand of love,

each time someone tumbles.

How can we change costumes each day

and not gift Mother earth a new colour of peace?

Incessant wars have drenched it red.

Let us all scrub and vow never to let

a single skirmish of blemish appear on her.

Why not try to erase the painful borders 

of nationality, religion and country in our head

and just accept each other as human?

How does it matter, if I am brown or black or  white,

the colour of blood oozed is the same,

I too feel warmth in my heart, when cared for 

and so do you.

INCHES

The word family meanders course with every turn

me and my sister listened in daze anecdotes

of the rustic fun dad had with his siblings

and mum's warmly braided growing years with hers.

 

My daughter's ears are now filled with

immature catfights of my childhood,

the three year vacuum in my heart 

when my sister wed.

A new family of in laws, brother in laws

became a part of me as I and  my soulmate

later embarked a joint innings.

There were crevices and hills 

yet each pit and each summit 

was crossed with the 

cloak of family gear.

If ever I find myself stripped of the warmth 

of enriched family lifestyles 

I would be left with no armour to face  life.

Any inch of emotional or mental bruise 

of my five decades was stitched with family support.

Blessed am I to pass on these close knit traditions

to my daughter of  sixty three inches.