Heal The Scars

Across many places in the dark world,
One of the most inhumane acts are acid-attacks!
This extreme violence pounces upon the victim
When she apprehends it the least,
Or has to give up escaping the hounding chase by her perpetrators.
Beyond screams of unbearable pain and silent sufferances,
It disfigures, it maims;
It tortures, and it can even kill!
Her spirit is doused in utter agony and distress;
Yet the hardened victim musters untold courage to stand infront of the mirror,
And the toughest challenge takes place everyday!
Beholds she not her remaining exterior beauty or devastation,
But the face and strength of her invincible soul,
That of a never-say-die attitude!
With a little help, she then prepares to step out boldly,
Ready to greet the old beautiful society,
And also to fight the diabolical part of it.
Howsoever she is stigmatized or sympathized or intimidated,
She is no more helpless or timid,
But stands firm and tall as the rocky mountain.
Her self-reliance and works speak for her,
Rooted in her confidence and sheer defiance!
Not cowed down by her criminals,
She lives a life of fortitude and dignity,
And leads by extraordinary tales of survival!
Come folks, let us take a collective call;
Let us try to imbibe at least some of her indomitable grit,
And step in to faster and better assist in fulfilling her cherished dreams.
Let us sincerely embrace her, and erase her otherwise irreparable scars,
And cheer her unfathomable valour, talent and beauty,
As Almighty would want us to humbly reflect, and do it as a great service to Him.

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In My Dreams

In my dreams,
Up above the hills towering high
Where the Oak stood in the breeze,
And the full Moon shoned bright,
You bloomed like a Jasmine,
In my dreams.

You held me by my longing arms,
The beautiful embrace that was to be;
Your blue eyes spoke that love was true,
And your lips smiled
Like the petals of a Rose,
In my dreams.

The charming night drew closer,
As eternal stars lit the way dearer;
The fragrance of your hair
That swayed in golden locks and in gay,
Swept my toes away
In my dreams.

ଅଇନା

ଏ ମୟୂରୀ କମନୀୟ ପନଖୁରୀ ମେଲାଇଛି ,
ବନେ ଉଡୁଛି, ମୋ ମନ ହସୁଛି,
ଆଜି କେଉଁ ମଧୁର ଗୀତ ଗାଉଛି,
ଜାଣେନା, ମୁ ଜାଣେନା |

ଏ ମନ ଥିଲା ଏକ ହ୍ରଦ ର ଅଲିଭା ଅଇନା,
କଳା ଆକାଶରୁ ଯେବେ ମେଘ ବରଷିଲା,
ହୋଇଲା ମୋ ଶୂନ୍ୟ ହୃଦୟରେ ଚନ୍ଦ୍ର ପ୍ରଭା ର ସ୍ପର୍ଶ,
ଜାଣେନା କିଏ ଆସିଲା,
ଏ ସମ୍ମୋହିତ ନିମନ୍ତ୍ରଣ ଦେଇ,
ଏ ମୟୂରୀ କମନୀୟ ପନଖୁରୀ ମେଲାଇଛି ,
ବନେ ଉଡୁଛି, ମୋ ମନ ହସୁଛି,
ଆଜି କେଉଁ ମଧୁର ଗୀତ ଗାଉଛି,
ଜାଣେନା, ମୁ ଜାଣେନା |

ଏ ଆଶା ହେଲା ଏକ ରୁପାଲୀ ସ୍ମୃତି ର ପ୍ରତିଷ୍ଠା,
ଥିଲା ତୀରେ ଯେଉଁ ନୌକା ର ମାଝୀ ଶାନ୍ତ, 
ଏକି ହେଲା କେଉଁ ବଇଁଶୀ ର ଗୁଞ୍ଜନ,
କ୍ରମେ କ୍ରମେ ଫୁଟିଗଲା ମଲ୍ଲୀକାର ରତ୍ନ ସେଇ,
ଏ ମୟୂରୀ କମନୀୟ ପନଖୁରୀ ମେଲାଇଛି ,
ବନେ ଉଡୁଛି, ମୋ ମନ ହସୁଛି,
ଆଜି କେଉଁ ମଧୁର ଗୀତ ଗାଉଛି,
ଜାଣେନା, ମୁ ଜାଣେନା |

Fridays

The week rushes through
Monday blues to Friday hues,
Clicking along the keyboards
In the IT rooms across India.
So flows the traffic and run the stalls on the pavements,
Along the streets and canopied lanes.
While Mondays see the whimsical masses
Amid multiple tea and coffee breaks,
Tuesdays are pretty alignment days,
When the schedules are shared and prototyping starts;
Wednesdays are usually hard to breathe,
Occasionally refreshed by late-night pizzas at the dimming floors.
Thursdays turn out to be gasping rounds seeking various inputs,
Preparing test reports and documents too;
And there’s hardly time to lunch.
But the streaming midnights are thrilling,
As these welcome the magical Fridays
That seem to last eternally!

It begins on getting ritually dressed in the best business casuals;
No matter whether or not hasty work or meetings are done!
For the unbound and jovial mood sets in for almost all,
And it doesn’t really scare us to stretch a little into Saturday.
We still make it to catchup with our family and besties;
Whereby the sparkling glasses clink to cheerful chats and impromptu dances
Over sumptuous spreads and cosy beds.
A few afternoons also find us exploring beautiful parks,
Or relaxing at a well-known spa.
Both the lazy weekend mornings dawn a bit late,
As our roomies or family members fetch cups of ‘masala-chai’ to the balcony ‘with view’,
To be later twinned with a special yummy breakfast.
Until then, the eyes draw a treat from the leftover greenery and flowers,
Or the cool blue waters of the swimming pools;
And then our tired hearts begin to chirp like birdies.
After finishing the personal chores,
The Sunday evenings are merrily winded up in malls or cinema halls;
Thus readying us again for another week to push through.

The Mind

Of women or men or children,
Mental health is a crucial part of everyone’s life.
When balanced and cheery, it goes quite unnoticed;
When agitated and stressful, it can wreck havoc in no time!

That never shapes up nasty overnight;
It takes hundreds of negligences and suppressed thoughts,
And thousands of negative words and oppressive hands
To destroy even the most nurtured and fiery person.

Don’t hide your countless frustrations and deep agony
Behind prejudices and criticisms;
For these are viciously scripted by the ill-educated society and the narcissists;
And not ruled from the Heavens.

Yet, don’t swear in anger;
But also, don’t suffer in silence!
You have all rights and ways to defend your otherwise beautiful, serene mind;
Be bold, and speak up for this irreplaceable gift of God.

So folks, rise up and raise your voices loud enough to be heard
At the very instant you feel really wronged;
For howsoever trivial it may seem then,
It could be the first alarm of a long, traumatic episode!

Never let your troubled mind shadow your free soul;
Go out dressed in your best, and confide in your greatest pals;
Seek professional guidance;
And thoroughly immerse yourself in whatever keeps you buoyant and happy.

She

Devasted by the winds of rage,
She sat quiet beside the earthen lamp.
The bars on the little window cast the shadow of a cage,
Symbolic of her tormented mind.

Her hairs appeared in a loose bun,
Unattended for ages;
The vermillion was at its destined place on her forehead
But as meaningless as her dampened soul.

Raising her eyes in deep quest,
She stared at the silence of the idol.
The temple conch sounded intensely,
In sync with the pitch and tone of her despair.

The untimely rains poured,
And her world smelt queer in its lost fragrance.
Tears that now rolled from her sleepless dark eyes,
Soaked the mud floor of her humble hut.

Into the sixth month of her pregnancy,
She was betrayed by the man she trusted for a lifetime.
She confronted, and she fought with dignity;
But she lost her cherished unborn child to terrible anxiety.

Rising up suddenly as if with a strong vow,
She broke her bangles and erased the vermillion.
Thus freeing herself of the prejudiced bonds,
She readied herself to face life again in its rawness and uncertainty.

Then bowing before the diety,
She chanted an old hymn once taught by her dear father.
She surrendered herself in her utter meditation,
And became thoughtful with renewed vitality.

There was hope and belief again,
And the lamp lit up in its full glow against a breeze.
A flower from the diety’s hand gently fell on her head,
And seemed to whisper an undisclosed yet bright path ahead.

Longingness

Beautiful was the day,
And gorgeous was the night.
But along the silent alleys of the heart,
I longed for your exalting sight.

The world hosted the robust and the best;
Yet to me, it seemed a melee.
As I stood lost in the gigantic chaos,
I longed for your deep solace.

My mind was set at the hasty desk;
And my busy hands were at the chores.
Then watching the splendid nightfall,
I longed for your fervent kiss.

The music sounded the most enthralling;
And echoed my cherished dreams.
As poignant tears rolled on the pillow,
I longed for your torrid embrace.

Ripples of a Summer Night

How I so much miss sleeping on a jute cot under the calm, starry nights,
Dark yet holding the promises of a thousand dreams!
Wisps of clouds drifting here and there as if to fulfil some wish of the Lord;
On some days, the radiant Moon occasionally peeping to say ‘I am here’.
The myriad and entrancing Madhumalatis adorning the green alleys like glossy locks of a lovely lass,
In the merry mist, moistening the shiny white bed linens and my gamey tender toes.
The melodious Nightingale enthralling a dozen breezy hearts
Amidst yet another captivating flute notes of the ever vigilant night-watchman.
Bit by bit, the celestial shade giving way to the soot of the earthen lamps;
The flames of which mustered to brace against sporadic gusts
Scurrying through the rustle of dry leaves and stacks of hay,
Momently creating an eerie of a hiss to baffle the midnight trespasser at bay!
The only other mystery of the unceasing night – the mewing cat and the squeaking rat fight,
Quite refereed by the croaking frogs beside the perpetual well and the elusive lizards around;
And much to the seeming delight of the lightning bugs in the bushes.
The cattle resting in their sheds, masticating on residual grass and fodder of the day,
Sometimes thudding their hooves to drive the whining mosquitoes away;
The dog with its belly rotund with warm country-bread, now sat wagging its tail;
Keeping an eye out on the green glare of some small, pawed intruder perched on the swaying branches,
Beneath which its master unwinded from the tiredness of a long, hot day!
As my wise grandma charmed me with nearly fifty tales of the mind and the soul,
I followed it with occasional turns on the left and turns on the right, done with my queer might;
Then came along a pat here and a pat there,
And with a treasure of hugs and solace on my forehead;
Led by promises of a new day, as alluring as the umpteen sun-baked, sweet mango pancakes,
I was lulled into honey summer-slumbers ringed by a mother’s eternal love.

August Clouds

The mountains were blue,
And the Moon slept quiet.
The sky was pregnant
With awaited August clouds,
And it poured ample rains.

The lighting struck across
Like the spark in my bossom.
I closed my eyes,
Quite smelt the Earth,
And felt the fragrance of your soul.

The nightingale fluttered the droplets
Off its merry wings
And sang a note,
Reminiscent of the beautiful days,
When our love first shone.

Indomitable Spirits

Life is aptly a mega drama
Whether of Veda’s four stages,
Or Bard of Avon’s seven ages.
The fluffy kitten and the tender calf,
Licked and caressed by the cat and the cow,
Draw beautiful symbols of man being nurtured by hands of care and attention
In the realm of unparalleled motherly affection.
Then speaketh the radiant young lover
Hundreds of verses of colourful days and starry nights.
Follows him the ardent worker,
Of grit, steel, success and rage.
However promising may seem a phase,
At times, intrudes the veil of tragedy and dark trail!
Insurmountable as the distant mountains may cast an aspersion,
Preconceived notions of ambitions and failure dim;
Once lights the spark of a passion to rise,
It heralds the unfolding dawn of a zeal to strive and to conquer;
And then, only the vast sky arrives as the limit to set one’s success galore!
Nevertheless, time again plays its own game;
A circle, and occasionally, a whirlpool;
As if it must thus shape
All but to try a man’s fortitude and destiny at stake;
Perishes the one who sees defeat and darkness,
Even before nightfall sinks in.
Survives he who is calm and poised,
Who loses not a moment in gathering himself up,
From the strength of an utterly trained mind and a seasoned heart
That forms the core of his unflinching essence.
Momentarily set back by the shadow of trials and tribulations,
He gallops ahead with the rigours of an unfathomable knight
Until again, he masters victory, joy and glamour in his domain.
So men must discipline their sinews and align their souls,
To not sway with the dusty, fiery, uncertain storm
But to stand upright, tall and mighty strong
When the tempest makes a stealthy sudden fall.
For man is the Lord’s mortal toy,
Yet meant to carve short or long but robust tales
Of courage, spirit and ardour;
And etch behind marks of inspiration, honour and pride,
On the nascent youth and the lasting times.