Can I wish death upon them?

A letter to God... for His children...

Can I wish death upon them?
No, You say, I mustn't,
Calm the anger and horror,
Be patient, You say, be patient...
Even as people gather and kill,
Torture, poison, blind, paralyze,
Your precious four legged children...

How can You sit back and watch?
As cruelty inflicted by humans rises every second by a notch?
I beg, I pray, I plead with You to interfere,
To be the voice of the mute,
The power of the defenceless,
To do justice now and here...

I see their pain,
I sense their fear,
I whisper: 'Don't worry, Baba is here...'
But are You?

Part the skies,
Break the clouds,
Come riding on a storm,
Come, answer their cries...

You bestowed on us humans,
The power of compassion,
To aid You in Your Mission,
Yet, we've chosen the wrong path-
Indescribable cruelty has gained admission..

Animals and birds are hunted, poached,
Some die a slow death, the lucky ones are instantly killed,
Most do it with pleasure,
With a cruel inhumane smile,
Practiced skill...

How can this be allowed in Your world?
How can humans be so arrogant so as to forget it is indeed Your world,
That we are only a part of creation,
And not the whole of it?

The few who care are fighting a losing battle,
Who do we turn to?
The law? Leaves us more rattled...
So who, Baba, who?

Show a sign, or more,
Show us the answer,
As we knock at your door,
Bring in change,
Be Krishna on our side,
Join this war,
And let not evil prevail...

Am I wrong in praying for the
Safety of the four legged, the winged and the finned?
Am I wrong in believing that:
'Today He will come and show them that this cannot and will not go on'?
That 'Today He will descend,
Answer His child's call, plea, wish and dream'?
That 'Today He will reveal his true form and all the cruelty He will undo'?
That 'Today I will weep with joy as He says: Samastha jeeva sukhino bhavantu...'?

Come, Baba, come,
The world is crying out,
Destruction of life is everywhere,
Come and command compassion from all men,
Come, so I may never have to wish death upon them...

All I want is You

Aashiq Tera
Bheed mein khoya rehta hain…

The day ends,
Conversations have died,
I sit in my room,
By Your picture-side,
Your smile is constant,
And yet I miss it,
Your eyes have that divine sparkle,
I will them to blink, move a little;
Your robe, how I miss its gentle stir to the breeze,
Its orange hue, its fall, its crease…

Sometimes I cry,
Each silent tear a heart-wrenching wail,
Somewhere a song plays,
It tells a story of lonely days,
Some days, the sun shines in all magnificence,
I feel You, Your omnipresence,
In some places, I feel lost,
In search of You, I walk against the crowd,
Calling to You, sometimes softly, most of the times aloud,
For I know You’ll come,
Come back again,
To light the days,
To wipe the tears,
Dispel the fears,
And be forever near…

You will speak of every prayer,
Whispered in the air,
In the hope it would reach You…
You will smile at this child, intent and stubborn,
Wishing, wanting and willing nothing but Your return…
You will hold me in Your love,
A promise that to talk to You,
I will never have to look above,
For You will walk the same ground,
Your aura, Your might will abound,
And I will smile and smile and smile,
‘My Father has come home’
Will echo for miles and miles…
I know You’ll come,
Come back again,
You will end this strain,
For never have You denied,
My heart its desire,
And now all it seeks,
All it does aspire,
Is only You, my Sai, only You.

A Still Night

A still night,

And yet the leaves danced,

The inaudible rustle,

Made her look askance.



Jumbled thoughts poured forth,

As her eyes stared blankly ahead,

At the unmoving scene,

Recollecting the said and unsaid.



A glance sideways,

Feigned order through the confusion,

Desires paraded as wishes,

And reality as illusion.



The seconds’ hand ticked slower than usual,

The beam of a car light shone and disappeared,

Dullness again,

A sketch of still life.



A circle of dreams,

Surrounding, bewitching,

A longing for the ‘different’,

An attachment to the ‘same’,

Rewinding words,

Doubting claims.



The reverie breaks,

Her eyes dart across,

At the still night,

No more dancing leaves,

No rustle.



Time has moved on,

She shuffles through the pages,

They appear blank,

The lines empty,

The ink too faint.



She breathes in deep,

She feels the sting,

She pats her eyes dry,

But still,

Her memories cry.

Incomplete

She sat by the door,
The breeze tiptoeing about her,
Her memory danced on the green stretch,
Playing out its role of before...

The present a tangle of regrets,
The past a faraway world,
A life of 'could have',
An unfinished dream...

The cold set in,
The blinds a barrier to the warmth,
A ray trapped in a webbed corner,
Too far to touch her with hope,
And Too slight to temper the cold.

Her eyes lingered on,
At the play of past recollections,
The wrongs stomped in fury,
The rights exuded affection.

The faint shadows,
Blurred and hesitant,
Slid towards her distant gaze,
Companions through the past maze...

A sad smile appeared,
She paused...
The slideshow of memories,
Stung her eyes,
The iciness thawed.

She wept,
Silent, unmoving,
The steady trickle,
A story of hope and defeat,
Of love, loss and yearning,
A story... still incomplete...

The Real

Eyes stare out,

Into the blackness beyond,

A blur,

A memory,

A dream…

Broken, Burned

A blinding light,

The sign of awake-ness,

A smile,

A truth,

Real, Forever

The mistiness disappears,

With the welled up tears,

The curve commands,

And beckons joy near

The touch,

Surprises Love,

The eyes,

Piercingly warm,

Turn away the doubts,

The fear, the storm

Words melt,

Their meaning already delivered,

The grey no longer a looming cloud,

The lining already silvered

A speechless promise,

Sealed,

A soft kiss,

A long night,

Alone, not lonely

The coloured dream,

No black, no grey,

The elation spilling over,

No bounds, no seam

The real and unreal,

Merge, unite,

The present,

A gift from life.

Smile, it's today

MOWGLI - My angel :)

Sometimes I wake up,

Flustered,

The dream had broken bits,

Broken, yet clustered


And then suddenly,

Black-and-white comes wiggling forth,

Tail sweeping the air,

East-west, south-north!


Lips parted in a big grin,

And a pink tongue ready to kiss,

Smack, Smack, Smack it goes,

On my lips, cheek, chin, and nose!


I stretch and yawn,

I squint at the trickling rays,

I get some more kisses and wags,

Then, “Smile,” he barks, “it's Today!'

A small speck, that's all

..................................

I've often looked at ants carefully avoiding puddles, and wondered if that puddle were a sea or an ocean in their world...

Today, when I think about the world around me, I feel as small as an ant. I read the news, I watch telly channels flashing reports and I can't help but think that all those things that I'm disgruntled about hardly even matter.

In space, the junk of abandoned rockets, missile shrapnels and shattered satellites has reached a tipping point. One crash with a satellite and we could lose our communication networks. It sends shivers down my spine. Is this is a sign of the beginning of our end? An end that our own actions are responsible for?

In different parts of the world, there are oil spills that could wipe out birds, marine life. There are cyclones; there are earthquakes claiming hundreds and hundreds of human, animal and plant life. Our motherland is being tormented by plane crashes, blasts, terrorist attacks, and wars. There are rapes, reported and unreported, and there are honour killings. There are kidnappings, money launderings. Then there are government people. In Rajasthan, the corporation has left thousands of stray dogs – puppies, pregnant bitches and others – in the deserted desert, without food and water. They are caught with metal braces that cause their teeth to break and also result in other internal injuries. And then they are left to die in the sands.

In Pune, 35 dogs were recently poisoned by the PMC. The poison used was one that slowly attacks different organs and then causes death.

In Delhi, a cop raped a girl; in UP, two cops took obscene video clips of a girl, and drove her to commit suicide.

I can't even pen any more cases, because my stomach is knotted up and the cruelty makes me sick.

And I realise that I have no right to complain about the downs of work, the end-of-the month depleted bank account, the scratches on my car, the clot in my nail... Even if all my woes and worries were put together, they would never ever amount to what's happening in the world around me.

I'm just a speck, that's all. A small, tiny speck, much like an ant. A speck that's watching the ocean of cruelty drown and destroy the world it lives in.

It's time to sizzle

Beaches, bikinis and babes! Read on:

http://epaper.sakaaltimes.com/SakaalTimes/18Apr2010/Normal/Spice/page2.htm

Dancing Dots

I squeeze my eyes shut, but those colourful sparks no longer break the darkness. It's pitch black – there are no dancing red and blue dots, and no abstract circles. Instead, it gets foggy, a thick cloud of tears...

Sometimes life's like that. You can see the small circle of light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel's too long, almost unending. The darkness continues to stalk, and nothing you do can shake it away.

Sometimes happiness is like that. You see the other side of the fence, and your naked feet long to enjoy the coolness of the carpet of green grass... but, the fence is too high to cross over. The wires are too sharp, and sometimes, you get a jolt, a shock of Volts.

Sometimes smiles are like that. You can already feel the imminent joy that the curve will bring, but your lips are too dry. The chapness worsens as you wet them and the cracks get deeper. The redness burns inside, and the smile never reaches the eyes.

Sometimes love is like that. Deep down, you know it's enough to make up for the dark tunnel, the jolts and the cracks, yet you block it out, in fear that it won't reach you; in fear that an obstacle will block its path; in fear that it won't bring the dancing dots back...

The silence is deafening

I don't know his favourite food, his favourite restaurant or his favourite colour. I don't even know the colour of his eyes. But when I looked into them today, they were so grey and so lifeless. And the memory of meeting him flashed before me, and I recall his smile, full of mirth and mischief, a smile that reached his eyes.

I don't know Vikas well enough to be called a close friend, but I know him enough to know that he didn't deserve to die like that, in a blast of hatred and terror and cowardice.

A leg amputated, furious burns all over his person, failing kidneys... and what was his fault? That he chose to have coffee at German Bakery on February 13, at 7 pm.

The week that was, was of prayers for him. Those prayers are still with his soul that has crossed over. But his going has left behind a dreadful anguish in the minds and hearts of parents, siblings, family, friends – close ones and the ones like me. It will never go away.

My eyes will never forget the lifeless, far away look in his eyes, that I saw today at his funeral. And my mind will also never forget all those times I've met him and laughed and joked with him, oblivious to the fact, that soon, very soon, he'll only be a memory.

My emotions are troubled. They're confused. They don't know whether to feel deep sorrow at this loss of a lovely human being, or to feel justifiable hatred and uncontrolled anger at those who committed such a hideous crime, such an unpardonable sin...

It's been a week since blast, and a day since Vikas left us all, and the papers carry a headline: 'Even after 8 days, no breakthrough'.

I want to yell out to the ATS, to the government, to anyone who will listen:

'Will it even make a difference if there is a breakthrough?


Will the perpetrators be given a 'fair trial' like Kasab (26/11)?


Will I still hear explanations that a fair trial is a must because we're a democratic nation?


Someone tell me please: Are we a democratic nation for the citizens of India or for demons like Kasab and whoever is responsible for the death of Vikas and 14 others?


Will this terror ever end, or does our country want us to get 'used to' losing dear ones?


Will our Vikas ever get justice?'



My mind is constantly screaming. But still, there's only silence around. No answers. Only silence. And it's deafening.