Auschwitz Mug

A sip for meaningless survival

Hides my heritage

In danger of being looted...

Its sanctity concealed from prying eyes

A legacy sequestered by a fake layer

An heirloom meant to be flaunted but 

Not in times like these

A love that ought to be proclaimed loud but 

Spoken only in whispers here

A hope buried to protect it.

Ah the irony!

I wish you live even when I die.

Image Source

I wrote this poem after reading an article on Huffington Post - Heartbreaking New Discovery At Auschwitz As Jewelry Found Hidden Inside A Mug . The pictures of the mug seemed to speak to me distantly but distinctly. You can see read more on this and see more pictures here. 

Linking to Day 5 of Write Tribe Festival of Words # 5

She is a Woman

Image Source here

She loves to elaborate

She is a woman

No monosyllables for her

She revels in details...

A smile might suffice some days

But she needs an extra something sometime

She is a woman.

Many have cursed her, branded her

She is a temptress, a seductress

She is the cause of Fall

The reason of Original Sin

What had she wanted?

Was she the only one who had wanted?

Why did they question only her?

On her head is the burden of sin

In her heart a throbbing pain

Pain of love

Pain that gives her grief and joy

She likes it

She knows not why

She is an enigma not just to others

but to herself too.

She is a woman.

She has fought many battles.

She still fights.

She fights for her dignity.

For her rights.

She fights to exist

She fights to live.

She has an infinite fountain of love within her

waiting to burst out

It lies restrained

Like energy that is within reach yet wasted

Only because it is unnoticed.

Let her open up.

Stop her not. 

Bind her not.

She is born to be free.

She is a woman.

In her dances Creation itself

In her sings Creativity

In her glows the spark of life

In her the serene ocean hides.

Let her flow

Let her fly

Let her....Let her...Let her....

She is a woman.

Written for B-A-R

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Poems heal, Poems Probe....Poems teach us to be Humans again...!

The first sound that a baby hears, apart from her mom's words, is a lullaby. It soothes her when she is distressed. It calms her mind. It is the music in it that she can relate to. The words are yet to form some meaning because she doesn't understand language yet. As she grows, she begins to understand the words too and the connection with words begins. Kids at an early age develop an affinity toward poems. Poems attract them because they are lyrical and they are easy to remember. Poems tell stories and generate knowledge in an easy manner for them. Thus, early learning teachers stress on alliterative and rhyming poetry. Poetry that is repetitive, that plays on words in essentially every child's favorite. I would like to share a very fascinating poem here which I read recently. It comes from an anthology of poems (The Bill Martin Jr. Big Book of Poetry) my son's teacher had suggested for him to read. It is simple, and playful. It creates an imagery for the child's mind and by its repetitive use of words makes it a hit among them. Children relate to it on a different level too. Like, when they tasted a food for the first time and found its taste funny. They also find it hilarious because it is like a tongue twister. They say the words wrong and then they say it right and the fun continues...

Rabbit by Ann Hobermann

A rabbit Bit 

A little bit

An itty-bitty Little bit of beet 

Then bit 

By bit 

He bit 

Because he liked the taste of it

But when he bit

a wee bit more

It was more bitter than before

"This beet is bitter",

Rabbit cried

"I feel a bit unwell inside!"

But when he bit 

another bite, that bit of beet

Seemed quite all right.

Besides

When all is said and done

Better bitter beet

Than none.

As we grow up, poetry speaks to us in more soulful ways. It reflects our deep thoughts and touches an inner chord of heightened sensitivity. It speaks in a way that feels blissful. It questions our fallacies by the honesty with which it creates meaning. Good poetry is like good music. It makes us cry, it melts our biases, it cleanses us of our deceptions, it purges us of our pain. It delves way deeper than any other medium and because of its unique style, interrogates in a way nothing else can.

Poetry has various forms too. It can be lyrical, like the songs or lullabies we hear. It can be an epic narrative, like Homers' Illiad and Odyssey. It can be a short poem like a haiku or tanka. It can be a fourteen line sonnet. It can be an ode, a ballad or a free verse. There are umpteen number of ways a poem is written. A good poem, irrespective of its length, moves its readers. See for example, this short piece by Ryokan, a poet from ancient Japan:

The thief failed to take it - 

The moon shining

At the window. 

Image Source here

Inspirational poems are like lighthouses that help us see when everything else has become murky and miserable. Most of us are familiar with Harivansh Rai Bachchan's है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है . I will quote a few lines from that poem here

क्या हवाएँ थीं कि उजड़ा प्यार का वह आशियाना

कुछ न आया काम तेरा शोर करना, गुल मचाना

नाश की उन शक्तियों के साथ चलता ज़ोर किसका

किंतु ऐ निर्माण के प्रतिनिधि, तुझे होगा बताना

जो बसे हैं वे उजड़ते हैं प्रकृति के जड़ नियम से

पर किसी उजड़े हुए को फिर बसाना कब मना है

है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है 

(Source here)

The sordid human condition that prevails in a decadent, spiritually lost world, is well depicted by one of my favorite poets T. S. Eliot. The Hollow Men is a strong, sharp commentary on the utter desolation of  humanity. The hollow men are barren of emotions, they are devoid of the very essence of humanity.

We are the hollow men

We are the stuffed men

Leaning together

Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

Or rats' feet over broken glass

In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,

Paralysed force, gesture without motion;......

or the lines

The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In this valley of dying stars

In this hollow valley

This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

(Source here)

In contrast to this is a very sweet poem written by W. B. Yeats. It speaks beautifully of love. The lines are so simple, the feelings coming straight from the heart, they make each and every word of the poem sublime. Read the poem to see if you can feel what I felt after reading it. 

The Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths 

Of night and light and the half-light;

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

(Source here)

The great thing about poetry is precisely this - it touches on a myriad of subjects with equal efficiency. Each theme that a poet picks becomes intensely probing. Poems shake away our deafness, our blindness, our indifference. They are weapons of change, they are balms of calmness, they appease, they unsettle. They are poems.

Written for Indiblogger IndiSpire #91

Darkness Scares me Not, It Stares at my Greatness - We all are great if we choose to....

There is darkness all around. I try to burn a candle but the stormy winds blow it out. I try to burn another candle but it blows out too. I fear not. I quit not. I do not give up. There is something in me that says 'Have courage.." There is something in me that helps me 'see' through the hazy, foggy, obscure surroundings. The darker it gets, the steadier becomes my tread, the stronger becomes my 'sight'. No, I am not the one to surrender. I go on, and on and on. I fight. I fight the negativity inside me. I fight the forbidding gloominess around me. I fight. I fight without weapons. And then, as if it was a miracle, as if it was a dream, everything lights up. Luminescence wraps me in a gentle embrace. I feel elated, enlightened, victorious. I have defeated the dark forces within and without. I have won.

It is often the despair and hopelessness that lurks inside us that shatters us, defeats us, becomes the cause of our undoing. We resign before our own fears. We withdraw because our thoughts become our enemies.

But people who are resilient, people who rise above the commonplace, are people made different by their inner strength. It is as if a light shines inside them. That light is the light of persistence, of faith, of belief in one's own abilities. 

Think of a butterfly who sticks to a petal and even the harshest of winds is unable to move it. Is it just the physical strength of the tiny butterfly? No, it is it's unwavering belief in itself that helps her battle the raging winds.

Think of a child who builds a tower of blocks. The tower crumbles. The child builds again. It falls down once more. The child does not stop. He still builds it. Isn't it the the force of persistence that keeps the child motivated? As we grow, we lose that persistence and become edgy on our first failure.

Image Source here

Think of the great leaders of the world who inspired others to stand up for their cause, to defend their rights, to defeat the wrongs in the society. Think of Gandhi, the frail Indian leader, whose sheer mental strength and determination led thousands out of their homes and spearheaded the country's movement for independence. Think of Stephen Hawking, the world-famous physicist whose disabilities deterred him not and his findings in the field of science and his book The Brief History of Time has made him a timeless hero for all. Beethoven's deafness in now way hindered his exceptional musical skills. 

Image Source here

One might say that they were great people. But don't we meet great people everyday? Aren't those people great who can smile in adversity? Isn't that father great who despite his painful illness smiles and gives a thumbs up to his children so that they don't despair? Isn't that mother great who eggs on her child who is physically or mentally disabled? Isn't that teacher great who pushes his weakest student and helps him inculcate a belief in himself? Isn't that friend great who despite your failures, motivates you to give it one more try? Isn't that person great who takes the courage to suppress her own sorrows, so that she can wipe the tears off your face?

Greatness is something that spreads cheer, hope and faith. Greatness is something that we all are made of. It is only upon us to discover it. Greatness is in the heart that is receptive, that is full of love. When we discover that well of love within us, we bathe in that well and cleanse ourselves from thoughts that bind us. Greatness is in the persistence, in the will that refuses to succumb to harsh circumstances. 

I want to pen down my thoughts through the medium of a poem I have written.

जब मैं तुम जितना लम्बा हो जाऊंगा 

मम्मी तब क्या बड़ा मैं बन जाऊँगा 

मैं हंसती हूँ सुन यह बात 

कद-काठी से नहीं बनेगा 

उम्र से भी कुछ हो न पाएगा 

बड़ा बनेगा अच्छे मन से 

जब तू खुशियां बिखराएगा 

जीवन नदी के जैसा है 

रिश्ते उनमें बहती कश्ती 

जितना सहज रहेगा तू 

उतनी ही कश्ती आएंगी 

अहंकार और क्रोध से जब 

नदी में तूफ़ान आएगा 

कश्ती खुद को संभाल कहीं 

दूर निकल जाएंगी 

तू अहंकार से लड़ना बेटा 

क्रोध को ठंडा कर देना 

भावनाओं के भंवर से जब तू 

बाहर निकल के आएगा 

तू उस दिन बड़ा बन जाएगा 

जब हाथ बढ़ा के मदद करेगा 

दुःख के आंसू पोंछेगा 

निःस्वार्थ भाव निष्कपट हृदय से

निश्छल प्रेम तू बाटेंगा 

हार नहीं मानेगा चाहे कितना ही श्रम करना हो 

डग-मग पथ पर अडिग रहेगा 

नैतिकता ना छोड़ेगा 

खुद पर दृढ़ विश्वास रखेगा 

जब उथला  सम्मान ना चाहेगा 

तू उस दिन बड़ा बन जाएगा .....

Hope we all discover the greatness within us!

This post is written in response #madeofgreat campaign being organized by Tata Motors. Linking it to http://madeofgreat.tatamotors.com/   


Tata Motors and Lionel Messi - What do you think of the two coming together?

Answer in the comment section below. The best entry has a chance to win Rs. 750/- voucher from Amazon.

रेत के घर

This poem is written in response to the picture prompt by Aditi Kaushiva

"कल समुद्र के किनारे जाना 

कुछ रेत के घर बनाना 

एक छोटा सा महल भी होगा 

जिसमें कहीं मेरा निशाँ भी होगा 

जब लहरें शोर मचाएंगी 

इठलाती हुई पास आएंगी 

सब कुछ ढह जाते देखना 

मुझे फिर मर जाते देखना 

लड़ तो तुम नहीं पाओगे 

लहरों से क्या टकराओगे 

खुद भी तो रेत से बने हो तुम 

एक दिन तुम भी बह जाओगे 

यही तो किया तुमने 

कमज़ोर दीवारों से घिरे 

निरर्थक व्यवहारों से पले 

उठा न पाये सर कभी 

झुके खड़े हो आज भी 

सुन न सके उन तरंगों की धुन 

नई सोच से नए सपने काश बुन देते तुम 

मेरे पिता बन जाते तुम 

कुछ गुड़िया भी घर में लाते तुम 

पर सोच तुम्हारी काँटा बन

पैरों में मेरे चुभ रही है आज 

मैं जाती हूँ अब तुमसे दूर

नहीं मुझे अब तुमपे नाज़ ...."

Image Source here

कल रात नहीं फिर सो मैं पाया

सपने ने जैसे मुझे जगाया 

आइना मुझको दिखलाया 

एक कमज़ोर शख्स से मिलवाया 

पिता हूँ कैसा मैं 

जो आती मेरे जीवन में 

मुझको भी जीना सिखलाती 

कुछ रंग गुलाबी बिखरा कर 

मेरे कुंठित काले मन को 

नित नया रूप वो दे जाती 

निर्जीव खड़ा मैं गुनहगार 

कल सुबह वहीँ पे जाऊँगा 

लहरों से न मैं लड़ पाऊँ 

मैं फिर भी महल बनाऊंगा 

एक घेरा ऐसा डालूँगा 

जो अनुचित दूषित  सोच को 

दरवाज़े से बाहर रखेगा 

तू आना मेरे घर बेटी 

इस घर को खूब सजाना तू 

और इस दोषी पिता को माफ़ी दे 

इक बार गले से लगा लेना। 

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बेटी की शादी

What is Potential but a Life full of Possibilities

He Drove All Night....

He drove all night

Wondering in the stormy weather

How silent would be the wife's anger

How stern would be his mother's temper

Thoughts like those might have slowed him down

But he went on......

For one more person waiting at home

Whose smile was true

Whose anger was cute

Who waited not for the gifts he would bring

But for the warmth and the love that would spring

From his eyes and his hugs....

Image Source

He drove all night

Fearing she might have slept by now

But he drove and he drove

To reach to her fast....

Gifts tumbled, dolls rolled

In the backseat....

Speedy highways posed a safety threat

With mile-long trucks in the side-lanes

Rains made it tougher

Winds made it harder -

Sleep tried to ensnare

But he fell not in its trap...

He cared not...

He had only one thought

To reach to her fast

So he drove all night...

He could see his house from a distance now

He could see all lights switched off

The darkness of the inside

Told him he had been late...

So he reached the doorstep quietly

And unlocked the entrance door

He put the gifts aside and sat down on the floor

He wanted to relax

But he knew that he had missed it

But work was demanding, deadlines inflexible

How would he explain it all to her?

How would he tell her he drove all night

But still couldn't make it in time?

Lost in thoughts, feeling quite blue

A touch startled her...

He looked up and saw those beautiful eyes

Happy to see her Papa come home

She hugged her as he lifted her up

And not a word passed between the two

Love has its way to send across the message

Nothing else was needed....

Image Source

The prompt He Drove All Night made me feel very nostalgic. I remembered the times my father would travel in the night to come home. There were times when work kept him busy and he was late. It was always a delight and a relief to see him reach safely.What else would a daughter want? As I write this poem, I miss him badly. He is gone so far that there is no return from there. But his laughter and his happy spirit touch my heart always making me feel he is close. This poem is for him, and for all the loving fathers in the world. 

Image Source

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

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The Happy Witch

Image Source here

Once on a spooky, scary night

A happy witch saw from some height

A sad girl sitting doing nothing but think

The witch said

Easy Breezy Magic Drink,

Tickle the little girl 

Pink Pink Pink!!!

The girl got up at once and smiled

And the witch went wild, the witch went wild....

The witch then saw a little boy 

Who was bitter and had no joy

Sadly sat next to his toy

The witch said

Easy Breezy Magic Bread

Paint the town Red 

Red Red Red!!!

The boy jumped up and smiled

And the witch went wild, the witch went wild...

The witch then heard a baby cry

A tear fell from the witch’s eye

Her heart cried Oh my Oh my my!

The witch said

Easy Breezy Magic Hair

Make the baby grin from ear to ear!!!

The baby’s cheeks dimpled and she smiled

And the witch went wild, the witch went wild.......

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