Life's A Poem: 12,11,10,9,8,7

Here is lot two of the A Poem a Day Contest; to jog your memories: http://vasundharabahuguna.blogspot.in/2013/04/lifes-poem-654321.html

April 7 2013

A sevenling poem: 7-line poem that features two tercets and a one-liner in the final (third) stanza. The first two stanzas should have an element of three in them that can either play off each directly, work as juxtaposition, or have no connection whatsoever. The final line should work as either a punchline, weird twist, or punctuation mark.

What’s the day today? They echoed in tune,

The Sun, Moon, Stars, Skies, and Earth in one line,

Tis Third of June.

But ‘twas still May, to their dismay,

And some stars in Heaven still in Fray,

A few days more, till they held their Sway,

 

Yes! It works!! (This is the way.)

 

April 8 2013

An instructional poem. Your instructional poem could list instructions. Or it could capture an instructional moment.

You Choose

Despair for Hope, Darkness for Light- believe, smile

Bad for Good, Rude for Kind- understand, listen

Unfair for Fair, Sad for Happy- follow, try

Cowardice for Courage, Greed for Contentment- fan, satiate   

Lie for Truth, Plight for Might- holdfast, resolve

Flight for Fight, Slight for Right- lead, reason

Live for these, and you will find, there is Life beyond your daily grind

Every day, brings in its fold, a bit of rain, and Sun, and shine

April 9 2013

Today is a Two-for-Tuesday prompt. Write one of the following (or both):

·         Write a hunter poem.

·         Write a hunted poem.

The Hunter and the Hunted

In all of us, though what we say,

Lies a hunter and a waiting prey;

While that seeker surveys, aims and conquers,

The victim fears every step and ponders:

What will prevail, for one so frail,

Always doubting , always pale;

The hunter trounces that thought,

Hunted finding itself in a spot,

Looks inwards and with memories fraught,

Goes in hiding, where it best ought.

April 10 2013

A suffering poem. A person or animal in the poem could be suffering. The poem itself could be suffering.

The Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart

Forced to bear it with silence, their piercing looks,
Unsure why;
So they talked to each other, to find reasons fair,
Always it was, though, on the sly;
“I’ll not wag”, she said to him, “And you try to not feel that pain”.
‘Twas a promise made, a deal sealed,
So the Tongue and Heart, their state concealed.
For years, they trudged on with that show,
Till the Tongue said to him, raising her left brow,
“We have suffered in silence all this while. Let us give up, not worth our while.”
The Tongue was sure, the Heart was scared,
From that moment, they began, they dared,
The Tongue, to lash at people fair, the Heart to seethe, its rhythm flared,
At every passer by, or him, who raised his voice (at them),
They did ensnare.
And thus, with every passing day, they learnt to live in dismay.
They knew their plight, with it could not part,To every other person though, they were the Razor Tongue and Unmoving Heart

April 11 2013

Take the phrase “In Case of (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write the poem. Possible titles could include “In Case of Emergency,” “In Case of Oversleeping,” “In Case of Snoring,” or something else.

In case of Boredom

Read that book, try to cook!

Click a picture, money’s not a stricture.
Ride your bike, or opt for a hike,
Paint a scene, play that game, go fishing.
Paste that stamp, walk the ramp,
Jog to the nook, swim down that brook,
Dance to your tune,
Sing those notes, play that beat,
Hit the garden to prune!
Walk the road, talk to them,
Hobbies from such pastimes stem

April 12 2013

A broke poem. The poem could be about a broken record, broken relationship, or someone who is just flat broke (no money).

The Wrist Watch

The Father asked, “What gift do I bring, from there, to you my child?”

The child, as coy as a child can be, smiles, and knows no joy.

But does not speak, only motions through her head, no toy will do,

Oh Father, choose to come back soon, no gift I want, but you.

The Father smiled, and hugged his child,

He knew her well, that she beguiles.

No words were said, but thoughts exchanged,

And the Father brought back with him, a beautiful wrist watch, silver framed.

She knew no joy, to the door she ran,

The Father saw her, and began,

To unwrap the gift he brought to his child.

Slowly, as each layer opened, with excitement feigned,

She watched spellbound, and yelled in joy,

It was a watch, and not a toy!

It shone on her tiny wrist, the watch,

She wore it through the day;

And through the night, till she went to bed,

So to, the next few days.

Then one morning she ran to bather, with her gift upon her wrist,

Two dips later, she recalled, and her tender heart near split.

 

Thoughts #2: Life’s A Journey

The sea of human beings stared and wobbled, as the train chugged into the station. The clock in the station master’s room struck.  1900 hours. The cool evening breeze blew, forcing everyone to wrap their arms and clothes around themselves.

And then, the sea began to pour forth, bursting at the seams. All hell broke loose, with every passing moment. People scrambling to get aboard the train…young mothers scurrying with young ones in tow; families clinging together for fear of losing sight of their loved ones…still jostling ahead, for a foothold’s worth of space-on the platform and the train.

Once on board, a different world on wheels awaited every passenger. No space to stand; leave alone walk to reach your seat. The train was filled cheek by jowl with people wrestling to make way…and get some place to lodge themselves. Scary, for the sheer numbers that were in; unreserved, and they were in; reserved, and they tried to get in; some trying their luck to get in; some cursing theirs for having to let “it” go. The Railway Police Force did not show up…nor did the station authorities. What could they have done? The power of multitudes, is a fear (for the one who fails in his duty) to reckon with!

It was a cold evening in early February this year.

After a lot of shuffling, wrestling, and word mongering did everyone get on to the train. Now, how does one get to the designated seat? How does one move. Well, push came to shove. Lo and behold, everyone managed to fit in.

As the train chugged out of the station, chaos and anxiety was writ large on every passenger’s face. More than half the people onboard travelled without a ticket, unreserved, and with sheer grit, bordering solely on Faith.  They had to get off at Allahabad…to take a dip in the holy waters of the Ganges; on the most auspicious day of the year~ Mauni Amavasya. Time it takes to reach there by train from Varanasi? About two and a half hours. Time that train took? Five and a half.  All trains ran thus…all passengers inconvenienced: those who missed theirs, ones who got on with Hope of reaching for the holy dip on time, and those who got on to any which way.

While I can’t represent the voice of people aboard that train, I can speak for myself…and spell my thoughts on this out. Here are a few:

My first thought was of utter disdain and anger. How can we let people, who have no business being there, in?!? What a poor facility management. What ruckus. Damn you!

As the train covered a kilometer or two, quarrels and verbal duels rent the air. I tried to steer clear… anger mounting. Huddled into one corner of discomfort, I sat through those five and a half hours; tried telling people to not squat on the floor… or to mind their elbows and luggage loosely tied together in bundles.

After a few kilometers more, I thought, what made these people board a train that they knew would be full of people, who would dislike their presence? Be full of disdain towards them? Furthermore, what made them sit patiently, in one corner, just smiling back to everyone and anyone who was rude to them? My heart went out to them.  Not once did they talk back; never did they argue. Yes, they knew they had no business being there, but there they were, riding high on the waves of their Faith; and on Hope, that they will make it.

My conversations with a few revealed they had been journeying for close to two-three days now. They had been afoot for more than 48 hours! Slowly, some passengers stopped spewing venom at them. Perchance they realised what drove this lot.

At 0130 hours when the train arrived at Allahabad, all of them got off the train…as if keen to move to their ‘aim’.  The rest of my journey was beset with discomfort…but that did not matter to me. I thought, and some more, of these people I just rubbed shoulders with.

Their Faith and Hope were two factors that aided them. They were the reasons why the people did not shout back, or give in to their fellow passengers’ coaxing. Not, the fact, that they had no business being there. They were just there for a different purpose. Nothing else mattered.

The next day word spread fast that there was a stampede at the railway station. True to their lot, the newspapers threw up pictures that elicited sympathy, fear and pain from the readers. My thoughts went to my co-passengers from the previous day.

A few questions, remain with me: when authorities know it for a fact that this is to happen, why not plan for it in advance? Perhaps the answer lies in the sheer multitudes of our country; perhaps, in the inability and lack of foresight of those in power.

P.S: Am glad this post sees the light of the day. It stayed half-written, for a few days…and how I writhed in disgust towards self. Everything has a time; A Time when it happens…a book half read, a draft half written…a word untold…comes through, eventually.

The Stranger on the Platform

It was a regular Thursday. Like any other-work interspersed with thoughts about life and beyond. Some more work, and then plans to reach the station on time.
I had a train to catch, with a right foot that causes me to limp occasionally.
It was at a quarter past six that I decided to finally 'pack up' and leave. Early though t'was, but considering my not-so-mobile condition, it was clearly time to go.
I found myself at the platform at 1930 hours, on the dot.
Catching the 2210 hours, Lucknow bound Lucknow Mail, and waiting on platform no.16 is like second nature to me by now.
Some rajma-chawal priced at Rupees 20 for a 320 gram packet ( I could not help but read it, as the price was mentioned so big and clear) came to my stomach's rescue.
1945 hours, it was, and I was sitting on a bench. Cold winds blew and the winter chill made the few people (waiting for the train or preparing to go to sleep for the night) hanging on to every word the announcer uttered, shiver.
Not many people for that time and platform though.
I usually enjoy watching the on-goings at the railway station; each announcement reminds me of episodes, places, people and triggers countless thoughts in my head. Simply put, I do not struggle to while away time.
So, I plugged myself out to the tune of some Hindi melodies from the days of yore, when all at once I realized I am being ‘watched’.
Adept at it now (by virtue of the ‘over-protective and respectful sentiments” of our men folk towards women), I chose to look away…thinking whether I should get up and leave.
A few minutes passed and I quite forgot about it as the radio beckoned me yet again. After some time I threw a careless glance at ‘the spot’ and the stranger was gone. I heaved a sigh of relief.
Phew!
I was in for a bit of a shock as I turned my head the other way. The stranger was standing right in front of me, asking whether I could move to one side and give him some space to sit down.
Considering there were other vacant benches nearby, my first instinct was to bluntly refuse or even walk away.
I thought for a second, and made some place for him, plugging myself out yet again.
It was then that I realized that the stranger was trying to initiate small talk with me.
Announcements and pushcarts were the only other sounds that broke the silence there. I unplugged the radio and asked him to repeat what he had just said. Here I shall try to quote our conversation, almost verbatim:
Stranger: Madam, where are you going?
Me, quite nonplussed: wherever my train has to take me!
Stranger, trying to carry the conversation on: Madam, still, where to? Which train?
Me: To Lucknow; Only one goes from here and I know which one is it. Thanks!
Just as I was about to plug myself out yet again, he said,
Stranger: Madam (with some hitch in his voice, as he must have sensed my discomfort)…
Me: Yes?
Stranger: Actually madam…
Me, thinking to myself whether I should just get up and leave…who all can I summon for help,…
Stranger: So madam, don’t mind please, actually…I was observing you for a long time…
Me: Yes. Okay…
Stranger: Madamji, actually I am an army man. Madamji I saw you sitting alone here on this platform, only woman…and the police in that corner (he pointed to a far end of the platform) are not too sober. They made me leave my bench there, hurling expletives madamji. So I came here, as I saw you sitting, just to sit or stand by your side to keep you safe.
Goes on, and madamji, I have seen life, and many people, I can understand who is what kind of a person. So please do not mind, I just came in case we have a situation here.
Me, smiling: Ah! Yes, I can see you are an army man (his hair cut, posture and way of sitting cross-legged gave him away).
Where do you come from and where do you go?
Stranger: From J&K madamji, and I am going to Howrah on T.Duty.
Me: Okay. Where from, in J&K?
Stranger: From Uri madamji.
Me: Oh. It must be rather cold up there?
Stranger: No no madamji, not very, just a little below zero at times…and we are all used to it.
(He smiled)
I felt humbled by that remark.
Stranger: So madamji, are you from Kashmir?
Me: No, from Uttarakhand, though I was born and brought up in Lucknow.
Stranger: Oh okay madamji.
(On some second thoughts)…are you from an army background?
Me: Well, yes and no. A lot of my family and friends and their family have and still serve in the Army.
Stranger: Ok madamji. So you definitely know a few names of divisions and units?
Me, laughing: Are you trying to test my knowledge?
Stranger: No madamji. Nothing like that. I trust your words. (Smiles)
Me: Thank you. I understand. (I too reciprocate his smile)
Stranger: Madamji, an army man has traveled far and wide and as one I have seen the world and life from close quarters. We do a lot for our country and countrymen, but we do not get the respect we should, madamji.
Me: I quite understand your words and your sentiments behind them. I am with you on this.
Stranger: Yes madamji, it shows you understand.
(By this time more people had started getting on to the platform, and there was quite some hustle and bustle. I had not cared to check the time off late. Some people I noticed were staring at the two of us talking.
Soon, a middle aged man walked by, and asked us to shift and give him some space to sit too.)
The stranger and I resumed our conversation.
Stranger: So madamji, when we come to civil life, we find it difficult.
Me: Yes. I understand.
Stranger: We are honest people madamji and people just want to make fools out of us. This, when all we want from the Nation is some respect.
Me: Yes, I understand. I truly can.
Stranger: So madamji, I am also happy that this time our General saab is an infantry chap.
First time for the Army madamji. He is a very good man madamji.
Me: Ah. (smile)
The third person: Ah, so you are both from the Army?
Stranger: I am. Madamji has family and friends/their family who have or are served/serving the Nation.
Me: Yes. (smile)
All: smile
The third person: The Army, it should really be respected. The army men do a lot for us. High time we acknowledge them and respect their gesture towards the Nation, towards us.
Stranger, smiling: Madamji also thinks that way.
Me: Oh, absolutely. We should move away from jingoism though, and feel more often and in a non-contextual way. Yes!
Stranger: Yes madamji. (smiles)
The third person: Very true. (smiles)
Also, there is some not so good news about the Army lately. Not a very nice thing.
Me: It is with every organization. Exceptions are always there. But why don’t we focus on the good instead…it clearly out weighs the bad?!?
Stranger: Yes madamji. Yes…we have a good General Saab now. He is taking good care of us. These things keep happening. We try not to lose our morale at such times. Our officers help keep our spirits high.
Me: (smile)
The third person, smiling: Nice to hear that from you. Good. We are happy to know that.
(Announcer: Train so and so, from NDLS to Howrah to depart 3 hours late than its scheduled time of departure, from platform number 14. We regret any inconvenience caused to you by this.)
It was 2100 hours by now.
Stranger: Okay madamji, I will go now. My train is at 0030 hours, but I must go.
Me: yes, you must go to the designated platform. It was nice talking. Happy Journey.
Stranger: Okay madamji, same here. Happy Journey to you too.
Jai Hind madamji.
Me: Jai Hind! (smile)
The third person, smiles: Okay (waves to the stranger)
(The stranger smiles and leaves)

The third person: Amazing sentiment. We definitely need to respect them more.
Me: Yes! The Nation must!!
The third person: So, what about you? Where do you study/work?
Me: I work with the TATAs.
The third person: Oh! Another great organization. A few of the honest ones at the top. Good!
Me: Yes.

It was 2115 hours by now. My friends came calling so I took the third person’s leave.
After a few minutes passed, the train chugged into the station. We boarded and got ready for our journey.
I do not know whether the stranger understood that he was preaching to the convert all this while...or rather he did...for he singled the third person out in the conversation...including me in most of his assertions.
I was quite dazed for most of the time that night. There are some moments in life when you cannot quite figure out why or how something happens. You just sit dazed through them, trying to make the most of these poignant moments.
It was one such night.
It was quite a Thursday. Unlike any other!

- On the night of 20th January, 2011 @ the New Delhi Railway Station.

Whatever will be , will be!

How often have you paused in your tracks to wonder that there is some force, some dynamics at work, that adds that final push or blow to what you have planned? That you can plan, but execute you will on subject to that 'will', that you could at best be content with the fact that you tried, and that as they all say, "man proposes and GOD disposes"?
Let me not get you to think that I am those behaviour-books-preach-this Type A/Type B person. Nay, I am not one to sit back and do nothing for I know I cannot decide what will be.
I am one who knows, that whatever will be, will be. Yet, my sweat and toil can and will eventually tilt the balance in my favour. In your favour, in our favour!
I often am left thinking how trivial and spec-like I am before that unseen power, that order, that force! And I bow, in obeisance!! However, I also appreciate that there will be a few who will counter this thought, with perchance a logic flawed, or otherwise. I am staying put. I swear allegiance.
Here for you L&G, a humble case in point.
My recent trip to Bombay ( no come what may, I still prefer to call it Bombay), though deserves to be chronicled in a separate post.
All my bags packed, I left for the station-lock, stock, and barrel. The station, true to its reputation, is bustling with activity. Security, travellers, the occasional stray dog, porters, stalls, A.H.Wheeler-there were these and more. The B
infamous Bombay humidity irked me, as I dragged my feet towards the platform. I was so overwhelmed with all that happened for the week I stayed there, that my otherwise quick feet refused their office. I wanted to stay a bit longer. And then there are 'signs'. I did manage to reach the platform and soon enough, the train chugged in to the platform. "This is it!", I said to myself.
I still had to check my ticket status, and I dial the railway enquiry number. The train engine blows its whistle loud and clear. Time to say goodbye. I am straining my ears to listen to what the IVR says. "Passenger 1, booking status- followed by a loud whistle- interrupted by yet another loud one-current status,- porters yell, passengers scream, rush, madnees on the platform,"
"Passenger2, book...whistle, rush, scream, whistle, waitlist."
What did I jsut hear? "Waitlist". I try again, to no avail. I call up a friend to check on the Internet.
Yes! The ticket remianed unconfirmed. And I stay on for another week.
I rushed to the counter to get it cancelled and head back home. That voice in there is mumbling... it says something... I try to shut it up..but my mind speaks louder this time, so much so that I end up thinking aloud...
Que Sera Sera...
Yes, whatever will be, will be! and commitments half-met will ensure that they get completed, unless ofcourse, tehy are meant to be left unfinished.