The Year Ahead!

May we be hallowed!

 In the year ahead,

Full of dreams to be true

And hopes to be gratified.

Forgive them, we shall, if we,

Have identified doers of wrong,

For seldom in their views,

They have committed flaws.

Erase let’s, the thoughts,

That are there if,

Haunting our quiet,

And hunting our health.

Towards the Past,

A tour to undo

The blunder of our deed

Is indeed unfeasible.

 Swear we will to tread
forward and trot to Future

As events are there
 For long to wait for us.

Incidents will paddle,

Our life through the mode

Destined for us, lurking
Nil for our nod or denial.

May the year new

Pack in us vigour fresh

 For our yen novel

To be accomplished.

So, dear bygone year,

We gleefully bid you adieu

And welcome with warmth

Your sibling waiting ahead..

‘May you all have really a joyful fresh year,

And may it be Time-fresh’.

Adieu for one month due to personal reasons.

Sarala.

Gift!

 Gift of God!

 Mother Earth is full of

God-given gifts; flora, fauna, celestials,

Water, wind and sapient man.

Our life on this sacred

Sand is an award from Nature.

Its bliss let us sip.

Our life is a gift.

Start its odyssey we, when,

Ecstasy He will shower.

Our merciful  heart and
Helping hand are real boon to
Needy, a soothing effect.

sarala

A Blessing in Disguise!

 How long can an adolescent boy confine himself inside? Gopal’s limbs sauntered around. One day his frequent visitor convulsion violently threw his physique to drains over-flooded with rains.

All the medical aids failed. When the carcass arrived there, his beloved mother’s colossal grief made her collapse. No word could stop her angst.

 Days brought calm. Balmy air slowly blew in. Her inner man brought her attention to the other offspring and her grieving spouse.

 “The incurable disease has seized our darling. Ha! He has attained the painless world,” sighed she, consoling others and herself.

Is it a ‘Blessing in Disguise’?

http://  /100-words-saturday-11/

Dew!

                                                                       

Mother Earth weeps very deep,

For her sons injure her hard,

Tear-drops on visage.

Mother Earth,in volition,

Shoulders all the beings’ weights.                               

She wields and sweats.

Mother Earth, bejewelled

With trendy precious stones looks prettified.

Beaming Sun looks on.

Earth sleeps with dreams under

Stone-adorned blanket ; mother Nature

Switches on dim light.

Dew drops of comments

Looming on leaves of posts, add

Vim and vigor in blogging.

sarala

For  http://haiku-heights.blogspot.in/

The Supreme Book!

The Supreme Book!

The supreme book, your Life,

 script you in this world 
is  your own very nature,

displaying various epochs
 you watch and may linger
 on you in permanence or 
lie with you in dominance.

 You, yourself script in this book,

 your autograph and biography;

the entire bal­­­­­­­­­­­lads in form poesy

Or odes or even verses inscribed

 With a device discernible not,

The ink you use is not been seen

And on papers not visible.

This book, while you ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­open,

you will find experiences, 

 misfortunes and fortunes.

challenges and adventures

excavations and explorations and

very facts and fiction, may they
bring you, negation or affirmation.

Your caricature you etch in it
maybe attraction or repulsion,
no matter what you go with,  
Your vigour, you spend rightfully
to script it virtuously, turn it for gain
and eventually become you can
your own mentor and anchor.   

Try never to tear it into tatters 

Nor scatter the leaves around.

Maintain this book always intact

For your following cohorts will learn

lessons, forming guiding light
in their travel areas,  when shuddering
their journey in dips and pits.

 Forhttp://writetribe.com/books-day-3-festival-words-2/

Rivulet!

Rivers, rivulets and streams

 Are roving nomads on earth.

Where do they  then reach?

 

Rivers and rivulets, the

Veins and arteries cart blood to

Mother Earth’s organs.

Plants and sand, parched

And thirsty, beg for water, rivulets

Readily quench their thirst.

Glumness saddens mind.

Rivulets and burns drench the cheeks.

Soothing strokes solace.

Sarala.

http://haiku-heights.blogspot.in/

Food

(Today I scribbled something based on the seed of food. So I thought of linking it to write tribe, though the stipulated day is over).

 Food is God!

                  

‘To a man with empty stomach, food is God.’ Mahatma Gandhi.

 A famished man thinks of only inserting something into his stomach rather than collecting delight from others.  No theory fills his belly, when his stomach covets shoddily for food. So he turns a locked ear to any philosophy.

Once when I was in a city bus, one seat, unnoticed by passengers, covertly invited me to it. I could accept the invitation of the seat, regardless of the crowd in it. One more person could sit beside me. I thought of attracting another person’s attention. But my attention left me and went out to watch the trees and building structures flashing past the bus. 

 Out of the blue a large, round aluminium vessel containing fish came skating near me. No sooner  did I look up in bewilderment than its owner jumped and sat by my side. She passed a challenging sight with the rightful shrug in it.

The presence of that person, her vessel, its smell and all enraged me. My ego was provoking me to ­­­­­poke my nose into her action. My intolerance and infuriating state grew to heights, as she exerted her pressure on me and pressed me against the wall of the bus. She made herself comfy there.

  Somehow with much difficulty ­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ I managed to settle my ego by bringing forth my reason. It reminded me, “They have also equal privileges that you benefit from here. Moreover what you utter may fade in front of their barbaric words.”

My reason further advanced towards me, “Better you hold her on conversation so that she will hold back from hampering you.”

I silenced my ego in the inner chamber of my heart and my tongue vibrated with fabricated gentleness.

 “Did you vend all your fish today?”

A surprising gaze welcomed me, “No, I am going to the suburbs and there I can sell all my fish.” The words were garnished with reverence. I watched a melancholic shade displacing the impertinence on the face.

“Do you usually keep a portion of fish for your cuisine?”

“Oh! No, not at all, because, you know, I have to clean it for the buyers. Otherwise they will not address me. I will reach home late after procuring our groceries for the day. In fact I have to utilize the profit for the essentials of the house.”

“Who are you staying with?”

“My ailing husband and two offspring.”

“Do the kids go to school?”

“Yes, they are reading in class-2 and class-4.”

The bus was about to reach my stop. I handed over some cash to her in the name of the diminutives. Though I doubted its approval, her need in paucity pushed her to stretch the hand.

“You are the one who is barbaric, not her. Didn’t the awe-bearing sound of hers divulge the golden heart caged in her chest? It stands entirely for the welfare of her family.”My mind rebuked me.

The mask of ruggedness she had to wear was to tear away all the barriers. Poor woman, what a heavy load on her shoulders! Alas! Even when mother is a fisher-woman, children taste fish nil.

sarala   For http://writetribe.com/food-food/ 

Rainbow!

  

Who steels God’s colour set?

Nature, to draw dainty lines and

Picturesque scenery. 

Looks sweet, the lass, cloud

In neck- band of cute tones, Sun

Sights his love with lust.

What Rainbow does there?

Stoops and peeps she, through the clouds.

Sun smiles from beneath.

The God fixes strip of 

Rich hues, on the attire, cloud.

He gifts it to sky.

Arrays, adored in rainbow

Tinges attract gals’ attention sure.

Those prints make them proud.

sarala

For http://haiku-heights.blogspot.in/

My Sister!

“Why can’t I get the retaining wall built here?” thought Leela.  “ The soil of that area erodes a lot in heavy rains. It plunges into the paddy field.”

 She,my sister Leela had gone to her indigenous village on a vacation. She visited her land obtained in legacy. Quickly she made arrangements for assigning the work to some labourers.

She stood there enjoying the swinging of spades, shovels etc in the hands of workers. The earth moved and moved and stuck on the construction wall. Then suddenly a small uneasiness-we can’t call it a pain-loomed as an unsought guest in her right arm-pit. She neglected it as if the result of straining after her objective.

Since it was not given its deserving attention, it made its presence more felt. She pulled on till the tag end of her motive. She couldn't help seeking advice from a doctor; she had to fly to her present habitat in Delhi. Tests and examinations revealed a growth inside. Her hay days had been exhausting. Hospital-home, home-hospital she travelled intensely. Surgery, injections, biopsy, chemo, medicines and all such usual events mercilessly rode on her body.

 Due information reached the nearest and dearest. I, her sister, started dragging a pull-over of emotions and feelings on my mind. She, my sister was no doubt loving and lovable, simple and straight and efficient and self-reliant. Humbleness and humility was her masterpiece in behavior. She could hurt none through her talks or actions. Helping others in need never had any tint of reluctance. Volition was the title of all her deeds.

She was a capable cook, an expert tailor and a proficient housekeeper of her own domicile. She felt gleeful in the company of kith and kin and served them opulent food. But she never allowed others to come home to her at the fullest.

In our childhood days we had a good many amusements which the diminutives experience in general and village kids in particular. She used to iron the garbs of both of us, since I had no hesitation to wear them creased. We, the children dawdled in the vast and natural garden and orchard, plucking flowers and picking fruit.

My obstinacy and tenacity invited rigorous punishment from elders which soaked her little heart. She consoled me with soothes and strokes of affection abundant. Delay to the school due to my doggedness earned her also, punishment from teachers. My beloved acca(elder sister)  never frowned or mopped at me. Unlike the sluggishness dwelt in me, she used up her childhood in the upkeep of the house and households. I don’t claim that she was an angel with no untoward behavior. She had the innate flaws and faults, but the degree measurement was very meagre.

“When will you come to Delhi? September-October disposes a suitable climate and we can have long pilgrimages,” she used to persuade us.

“We will be there to visit you one day,” the response.

Yes, we visited her no doubt, not in October, but in November on a mere phone-call. One day a phone-call whispered that unfavorable, unpromising news in our ears. We saw her lying on the hospital-bed, completely cut-off from the environs. She lay there surrounded by tubes, aided by ventilator and assisted by the medical corps. Then into a corpse she turned within minutes as her last breath had bidden adieu to her.She had that pilgrimage now.

Yes, she is my sister now lying here with fingers tied, toes fastened, mouth closed and nose plugged with cotton.

O! What a fate? She was quite healthy. Never had she displayed any symptom of any ailment.  Rivulets and streams emerge out of my eyes and nose. Heart is gaining weight of glum and gloom, body is expressing inability to stand. Sobs and sighs do not stay inside. My mind is crying, literally crying, it is not heeding to any console or solace.

“Oh! God, why are you after healthy humans, when there are numerous very old ones awaiting your proximity?  Fatal ailments in plenty are triumphant over innocent energetic people, may they be young or old.

“Ha!  But I should thank you because you granted her to have the journey to the infinite, in a very calm and painless way. So thank God! Thanks! Thanks!”

Sarala.


http://writetribe.com/recalling-memories/

The Boy, the Schoolboy!

Holding  a big bag  hanging on shoulders

Walks he rather runs to the stop for bus.

The bus is about to ply, when  throws he

His physique violently into the mobile.

Well he manages and occupies the seat

That has only a vacancy, its quarter.

Thoughts spurt from brain like jets in sky

Sending hither- thither his mind to meander.

“O! How nice are the moon and stars at night

But time I have seldom or rare for delight.

Not in morning, but at dawn of the sunup

 I will be on my feet from sleep so sound.

Brushing and bathing I do in a speed

For dressing and eating, time, less I spare.                   

Rush I rapid  like a rocket to  the class

Caring no tiredness in the rain or sun.

Just like a camel in desert very hot

Or like a prisoner in the dungeon of city

In the school that is no better than a prison

Awfully  I am a slave of books and notes.

Studies and tuition steel my games,

Homework and projects twist in thoughts,               

Tests and exams disturb the sleep and

School bell and assembly blight my dream.

Food made relishing gives no tang

Enjoy I cannot at chats in the sitting,
 ‘Go and study’ words, always, me haunt

Whenever I try, around, to hang out.

Slogan of  ‘Ranks’ resonates in ears

As a nightmare perturbing all the calm.

Taunt the parents using cards of progress.

They  crush my heart with pity drops nil.

How gay and glad are the beasts and birds!

Ties their feet, never any schooling or lessons.

I wish I were a bat or a cat,a crow or a cock ,

Lived, I would have with tedium the least. 

Do the ‘A ‘grades determine the future

I will show that they   aren't  ‘a’ want’.

Let me be right now, fly in my dreams

Buzzing and humming before I alight."

sarala      

 http://writetribe.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/theboywt.jpghttp://

Link with http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.in/