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Friday, 26 December 2014

A Childish Desire

Often a childish desire
Comes to my mind
Alas! It may be  
much  pleasant
If we could delay childhood
for some  years!

Parents rather think
 their children
 grow up
and take some breath
of their responsibilities.

I remember of
my twin nieces
Whenever I visit her
Fell asleep
After, a tired journey

They, played with my hairs 
putting rubber in it
extend their imagination
to the next gen arts
I rather try to hide my face.

where comes
to these kids
why not to the elders
I surprise often.

Had god given wings
to the kids
Flying in the distant sky
they rather realize
Sky is not limit.

Monday, 22 December 2014


                                                                 The more I think
The less I act,
thinking is coeval with action
and coterminous with inaction.

I always think, but never
for  consistency is the fruit of

I know thought engenders thought,
but can I fathom my mind
which is a well of thought,
a bottomless pit?

I always overthink –
A streak of Hamlet, perhaps.
The more I learn to think,
I forget what I thought.
It is a vortex from which
Perhaps no traveller returned.

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Pebble and Life

As I walking on the
Beach one day,
I looked down,
A pebble was staring 
back at me.

It was lying on the beach
Amidst a group,
Yet all alone,
Not knowing,
Where its destiny lay.

Not knowing
Whether it would be
picked up,
Or trodden upon
So uncertain.

And I suddenly
thought to myself,
 Isn’t that exactly
What the life is?

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Tell me a story

Story telling is an art-whether it’s the sort of tale you tell your wife when you come creeping in the morning, or the kind that puts junior to sleep at night. If you can spin a yarn that hold the attention of your audience , regardless of age and bent of mind, you may count yourself among the chosen few.

Those parents who are endowed with the art of telling enthralling tales to their children, find it an invaluable sugarcoating with pleasant tasks, such as putting junior to bed or washing his hair. And telling the story provides an even stronger link between parents and child than just reading a story can forge.

The habit of story-telling, in particular has grown into a nightly bed-time custom. Once young sunny  is tucked in, his father stretches out on the bed beside him, turns out the light, and out of thin air concocts his story about the imaginary people he has created for his child’s benefit.

Telling a story also gives the father a chance to impart some actual knowledge ,as well as nonsense. And, above all, the father feels that his innocent tales are a relief from the horror tales in comics, and, actually, even in some of our well known fairy tales.

Story-telling is an old art. In ancient times we find the Greeks and Romans with their great amphitheaters. At these large gatherings were professional story-tellers, whose words were more vividly impressed upon the minds of the listeners by means of actors in pantomime.

“When reading a story, you are tied down to the author’s words and thus are attempting to assume his personality. You are really not ‘feeling’ the story. You are unable to watch the facial expressions of the audience”.

By telling the story you can adapt the same story to many different types of audience and to suit their moods. You have the writer’s thought and ideas in your mind, but you are able to give the author’s main ideas plus convey in part something of your own personality.

There are a few little ticks of technique that a good story- teller uses whether consciously or unconsciously. A pause, judiciously employed, is one of the most important .It gives the mind time to grasp a new idea, allows the  listener to assimilate what has gone before, gives emphasis and arouses suspense.

Gestures are good , but be careful not to overdo it. Mimicry, if you are capable of it ,is very good especially with younger children. To secure the attention of your audience ,use a striking beginning, which will enlist their interest right from the start.

Stories have both educational and emotional value. Stories are childhood’s form of expressions and it is through stories that the child’s mind is developed.

Stories give a child a better insight into human emotion. Stories stimulate and direct literary pursuits. A good instance of their emotional value is the development of sympathy towards animals. Stories may also be used to encourage respect for, and care of, elderly people.

Monday, 14 April 2014

Precocity and Genius

Genius is often precocious. Precocious originality is one of the characteristics of genius, many philosophers affirm that genius consists in an exaggerated development of one faculty at the expense of others.

Dante, when nine years old, wrote a sonnet to Beatrice, Tasso wrote verses at Ten. Pascal and Comte were great thinkers at the age of 13,Fornier at 15,Niebubr at seven. Goethe wrote a story in seven languages when was only at ten.

Victor Hugo composed at 15.Moore translated Anacreon at 13.Mayerbeer,at 5,played on the piano.

Delay in the development of genius may be explained by the absence of circumstances favourable to its bloosming, and by the ignorance of teachers and parents who see mental obtuisity, even idiocy, where there is only the distraction of genius.

Many children who became great men have been regarded at school as bad, but their intelligence soon manifested itself. Gustav Flaubert was the very opposite of a phenomenal child. It was with extreme difficulty that he succeeded in learning to read.

Many eminent men who were acclaimed in later life for their genius were backward in their scholastic career. Einstein himself was considered a poor student in school and failed in the entrance examination for the polytechnicum in Zurich. 

Maharshi  Aurobindo,the spiritual giant could not speak fluent English at the age of 12.

Education, however indispensable in a cultivated age, produces nothing on the side of genius. Where education ends, genius often begins. Gray was asked if he recollected when he first felt that the strong predilection to poetry. He replied that “he believed it was when he began to read Virgil for his own amusement and not in school hours as a task”.

Nevertheless, going through the life span of many eminent persons, who influenced the world, it was rightly said that that the child is the father of man, nothing could be truer than in the case of the genius.

Monday, 7 April 2014

My Longings

I write my longings
on the river every noon
When I bathe
And they snake to the sea
only to be tossed about
and broken by
the shattering waves

Every morning as I stroll
I write my longings
on the clear blue of the sky
but soon the blanket of darkness
hides them
And with the break of dawn
the letters melt and drip down
in the sun’s heat

But I don’t write my longings
on the walls of the mind
in the night
in a moment’s drama of dreams
enacted on the mind’s walls

I see my fulfillments
all celebrities
of a king
attend on me.

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Long spring is over

Yes, summer has come without
The apology of a tomorrow
The summer has torn out
The remnants of my mind.

Bitter youth is
The bitterest wine ever
How can I forget that
The long spring is over?
I had named you spring and
Like a new faith you had come and
The old bitterness out of me.

In my tomorrows I had planned
A little bit of you
In my yesterdays I had hoped
To drape a veil over
The sadness of youth in exile.

When the birds wing joyfully across
The skies
And trees move their leaves
To the rhythm of the breeze
And children go out to play early
Most afternoons
I will remember
I will remember that
The long spring is over
And you won’t be here to share
With me.

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Hopes and Expectations

Faith is one of the most significant aspects of human existence, both when it is given and when it is received. The knowledge that someone expects the best from us works wonders in our lives.

We give our best when the best is expected of us. When we realize that someone has high hopes in us and the faith that we are capable of high performance, we tend to fulfill their hopes.
If the high expectations others have in us to realize them, it is also true in the case of negative behavior. The undesirable behavior of many children may be the result of the expectations by parents, teachers and class mates that they will behave in that manner.

The expectations of people significant to us is communicated to us in diverse ways, often quite unwittingly through a smile, a nod, their tone of voice, posture, facial expressions and so on. These tend to change our belief in ourselves and encourage us to do better.

If someone expects to behave in a friendly manner towards him, we do not become hostile. We do not behave harshly towards someone who believes we are kind and gentle. We tend to be helpful towards someone who we know expects our help and counts on our helpfulness.

We make our lives successful because there are people who believe in us and set us on the road to confident achievement. They often do that even before we are capable of consciously believing in ourselves. If we esteem ourselves, it is because others have esteemed us first. The great gift a person who loves us can give to us is to have faith in us.

From early childhood we grow because of the love we receive from others at a time we are only capable of receiving. Whether we like or not, we are dependent on other people who are important in our lives and who make us grow by the faith they response in us. We are trusting and trustworthy because others have trusted us first. We become lovable because others have loved us and made us lovable.

It is a common experience that those who love us bring out the best in us. We respond to their love in ways that promote our own growth. Our splendid dreams in life, our hidden talents and noble aspirations blossom in the sunshine of the warmth and acceptance that others offer us.

The love and acceptance given to people who need it for their growth, is not wasted. There are so many us in whose lives there is at least one person to whom we attribute a key role in our success drama. We can tell them that we are successful because they thought that we could be.

Friday, 21 March 2014

The Gushing Fountain

I walked up to the park
To see the reality that was stark
With a beautiful scenery
And a hallucinating perfume

I saw the birds flying in the sky
The sky was reddish white
And the sun was overpowered
By the dark clouds

The sun’s light faded out
It was the reign of
The black king

I saw the ants working
Slowly and steadily
I felt a wave of triumph
I had a way to success
I saw the fountain gushing
I felt a new one gushing
In my heart.

Monday, 17 March 2014

Someone waits for you

The feeling that someone is waiting for us can work miracles in our lives. We all need someone to wait for us. When you return home from a long and difficult journey, you are happy at the thought your family and your friends will be waiting for your arrival. You want to share your experiences of pain, hardships and exhilaration with someone who stayed home and awaiting your return.

The soldier who is posted in difficult boarder areas and in constant danger, keeps his mental and physical health intact in spite of serious threats to both because, he knows his wife and children and all his friends are waiting for him.

One spouse wait for the other to return home after a long span of time engaged in his duties.An elderly father and mother wait for their son to come from a faraway place before they give up the struggle and die. Their waiting gives them life and hope.

We are fortunate if there is at least one person waiting for us. That awareness gives joy in living and a fresh lease of life when there seems to be no other reason to carry on.

Thousands of people give up hope and commit suicide or just fade away and die because there is no one to light up their lives. They do not know of anyone waiting for them. So then it hardly matters if they have a tomorrow or not.

Waiting, of course is not limited to a brief period of time. It may span many years of one’s life. It may be for someone to change his ways and grow. Perhaps the most beautiful example of waiting is parents waiting hopefully for their children to grow.

They watch them as they grow, confident that the little ones will one day become big. They know they can trust their children to grow in their own ways and that they need not be overprotected and insured against all insecurities. They know that their children’s lives and their hope in them will blossom to their fullness and their waiting will not be futile.

If our waiting for others can produce dramatic and lasting results, we have considerable power for good in the lives of others. We can make gratitude to those who have loved us and waited for us that we in turn can wait for others and promote their growth and well-being.

Wednesday, 12 March 2014

In Search of

I saw two men
scanning a garbage tin
they seemed
like aimless wanderers
a mad dream.

Enquired one,
“What do you search?”
Replied the other
just looked for
half-burnt slices of life”.

“And you?”
The man was hesitant
but then
he mumbled slowly,
I am in search
of my identity.

Friday, 7 March 2014

Elusive Peace

Here you will find
the elusive peace
your mind wanders
your spirit is restful

Take the cue
count your 
worry beads
a statue
a case of roses
the hollow sound
of song and ceremony
mere echoes of
forgotten memories
when prayer was heard

Remember again
cross your breast
make a pray
you will find
extreme peace

Friday, 28 February 2014

The old man

The old man
on the seashore 
the depth of life.

The sea-gulls
Above, pouncing down
On the tit-bits like
ever- famished street
urchins rummaging
inside the garbage tins.

And the dashing
Cadillacs and Yamahas
by the score
And people
In Levi’s and halters,
passing never
a glance
no time.

The old man
Walks back towards his
rented room,
a rented life
faint ears,straining
feeble force forcing,
least they miss
the welcome nock from
the endless horizon?

From the horizon
the albatross spans
its wings across
the dying sun.

Momently darkness
On the shores
Of life
before the twilight
stars predict
a fresh sunny
dawn of gloom.

Friday, 21 February 2014

Forlorn Bee

A Solitary rose stood aloof
In a garden of gorgeous
Bloom, in ostentatious extravaganza
The crimson rose, clad in
A veil of unspoken despondency
The dew-drops on its petals
Spoke of its agony

The forlorn bee sat clumsily
On the branch of a deciduous shrub
Segregated from the evergreens
A passionate desire to
Drink up the bitter nectar
Of gloom and share the grief
Of the rose, brought it down

With a soft hum, mumbled
The bee, “What ails you?”
Eager to conceal its ailment
The solitary rose remained silent
The dejected bee flew back
With indifference to the neglect
Which was it’s lot.

Friday, 14 February 2014

Oh! Dreams

I know you so well
That often amidst you
I forget myself.

When as reality
Failure approaches
You make me climb
to a success peak.

I am with you
So often
That devoid of you
My day’s incomplete.

As came a people
Troubling my peace
In my heart
You stayed, to please.

I gave you
So much
That I regret
It’s memory.

When realization came
The mist you created
Drove its away
To a barren land
Where helpless I lay
returning  from you.

I hate you
You squeezed me off
My self-respect.

No efforts I raised
No life I’d make
In your midst
I lost myself.

Monday, 3 February 2014

Spring Again

Spring time
Soft breeze
Leaves whisper
Birds chirp  
Bees hum
Clouds sing
Weaves dance
Flowers smile
Children laugh.

And I, I try 
With misty eyes
To force my lips 
to express some joy.

But I fail
Fail miserably 
For it matters no more.

All are the same
It's the same 
Throughout the year.

Tuesday, 28 January 2014

The Helpless God

He walked down from
The mountain heights
And saw dark strife
Grappling with the world

Weaving counterfeit nights
His blood tickled down
His transfixed hands
On the luminous globe

Brother fought brother
Lies were told
Till truth became a legend
Children starved

Shivered in the cold
And five-star  hotels
Threw left-overs into 
garbage heaps 

Cheating stepped into the open 
Unashamed and bold  
Anger welled in him 
But He reminded Himself 
That as God He had 
no claim to anger 

He wept,wept 
And the blood and tears mingled 
And drizzled in autumn loveliness 
Over the frenzied earth.

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