LOVE AND PANTYHOSE

St valentines messenger
Cupid-I saw him
Shooting a few arrows
They struck, did their bit
And love happened..
How times changed
Time was when I fell in love...
Not that I don't now
But then it was private
And personal
As we exchanged notes
In the hallway or even
Crowded corridors
Time was when a mere glance
And a smile did the trick
Time is now when
You need newspapers to
Profess your love for all
To see
No privacy
No delicate-ness that is love
Thump your chest times these
And oh yes
Cupids arrows found their mark
And in return Cupid got
Sticks stones and bombs
And I daresay
A few pink panties ...

Seeking Education or My Attempt at an Epic...

He entered the house
it looked like it had
all those years
that he grew up
in it...

the furniture looked
untouched and calm
covered in white
just as he liked...

in the rays of
the sun
that came through
the crevice in the roof
he saw speckles of dust
come through
toward him
and then it all came back to him...


he saw a child
running through
those rays
with a pretty lady
in tow...
Mother...

Father sat in the corner
reading the Bhagwad
as he loved to do..
life's lessons he would
tell the child
as he grew up
among all those riches
learning those values
that the holy book
laid out...

life was good in
the largesse that he
grew up in..
as he was
wont to
the child grew fond
of the estate that
he grew up in...

now a young man
questioning the charities
of life that his
father indulged in...
the questions turned
to defiance and
the Mother watched
helplessly her two
men agreeing to disagree..

and died she did
as silently as she watched..
at the funeral
the youth
motionless as he was
woke up when
he heard his mother
owned the estate..

gritting his teeth
he asked of him
'How dare you
throw it all away
when it wasnt even yours'...

later that night
the frail by now man
walked into
his room and
extending the Bhagwad said
'Take this...
for it is yours..'

the young man
looked at his
shriveled hands and off
he went forever
leaving the old man
to fend for himself..

the old man-no
God wasnt kind to him
he lived broken hearted
minus his son
and soul till he died..
with but a cat by his side
and an old faithful
who didnt speak

But he called...
the son
answered and instead
of no sound that
he usually heard
he heard tapping
on the other end...
'Something's happened
to the old man'...

Now as the dust settled
in the rays
he felt an uneasy calm
the cat by a picture
the rooms ajar
and no soul
that had left many
moons ago...


He clasped the old faithful
and nodded but in disdain...
he stood by his Mother's
picture till his
eyes went moist...
by the soft
natural light that
made her look
even softer


and his eyes
pried on the
Bhagwad...
Holding it in his hands
for the first time
as an adult
those harsh memories
steeped into
the corners of his mind
till he realised what his
hands held...


and he shook
it as though
demanding answers from
his dead father...
and then he noticed
it...

a deed
that had his Mother's
sign that was
tatooed in his heart..
'My son needs
to learn from you
my dear that life
is about giving
and forgiving..
teach him kindness
the way your father
brought up
an orphan like me..
teach him compassion
like i saw in your eyes
when we first met...
teach him to
be generous and
large hearted
as you were
when you bequeathed
our estate to
your old faithful...
teach him loyalty
as our faithful
just as he willed this estate
to our son for all
he has is him
long after we are gone...

for i wont live long
as he has left us
and nor will you
moping as you will
after i am done...'


his heart sank as
he read this note
attached to
a neatly folded
lawyers deed...
He slowly turned around
to face his Mother's
countenance as he
fell to his knees...

and as his knees touched
the cold damp floor
in the corner
of the glass framed
picture he saw
his Father's face
shine forward reflecting
as though
standing behind him
still...
despite the pain
the hurt
the wounds...


He looked
behind him and saw
the old faithful..
he wept clutching him
like a child
crying his heart
aloud looking heavenward.. .


his life ahead
was now measured
he had to pay...

for his education

Musings on a Saturday morning-inspired by Let it be …

Whenever I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
speaking words of wisdom
Let it be...

So goes this Song-let it be
And in this hour of darkness
she is standing right in front of me
speaking words of wisdom
Let it be...

Just how many times
have we all looked for
our own Mother Mary
Our conscience
our inner voice...
that tells us to
Let it be...Oh let it be…



Sometimes I have felt that
the best words of wisdom
come from us within...

Sometimes my thoughts
though mine I know have come
from my mind and its chagrin

We all have an inner voice
that tells us what to do
Question-does it know what is wrong and right?

We all do what our voice tells us to
and then live to see another day
Question-does it many a doubt ignite?

Werent they all made as children
Werent they all cute and adorable
And didnt their parents have hopes on them?

Didnt they go through the stages that all do
Didnt they have their fights and squabbles too
Then why did they do that we did them condemn


What went wrong
How did their paths change
Didn’t they realize that they were in the wrong game?

What did they do
How did they alter their course
And oh God what good was this unholy fame?

What do they think they’ll achieve
When all they see are innocents dead
Cant they see it in their eyes cant they hear their plea?

Where is their Mother Mary-is their conscience dead
Have they lost their inner voice, did they their souls bury?
Why didn’t they hear the words Let it be, Oh let it be?