Is the flame of my love still ablaze in your soul,

or have the strong winds blown  away and extinguished the flame of love,

In the cyclones  as you walk, in the hurricanes you combat,

has the tornado put off the flame of mine in your heart!

If its still burning with vigour and is in a splendour form,

Why do you fear the winds that come in the terrible storms,

The warmth of my burning wick shall keep you always secured,

even in dying winters when you freeze and ail…

The light of my love will illuminate your darkened road,

guiding back to the camp where your body pillows,

till your expedition is  accomplished,

fighting against the normal frights and dread…

The golden radiance of the flame flickers when you torment,

Its intensity will consistently remain to be with you in every place,

filling my absence in the world,

where you struggle and should never succumb…

keep the flame of  my love enkindled,

for eternal and as  aeonian…


Once on a crowded street of LISSE,

a little boy of eight was walking down with canvas and paint,

amusing everyone who stared ,

some thought he was carrying the things for his Mom,

few pondered may be he is running an errand,

oblivious of the surprising glares,

he just trotted for long.








He went down to the end of the street , on the edge of the colorful fields,

where thousands of tulips were swaying with the wind and the scene was perfectly enchanting.

Taking out the stand ,he fixed,

the canvas and the brushes with him,

slowly he started stroking the soft pastels of the wonderful tulips…

Hours passed,he didn’t stop,

The sun-scorched and his cheeks got burnt,

Passers by and tourists of Keukenhof  had a look,

on whats going on his schedule.





A virtual world he laid,

aesthetically in rhythm and paint,

People started flocking in,

admiring the little lad!

some dropped coins,some few notes in the bag that hanged adjacent,

The little one was  engrossed,

with his muse and little did he glance…









Suddenly he saw a man dropping few coins,

he abruptly stopped and said to him,

“I don’t want money! Man!

“I am the son of a rich woman.”


“Then what brings you to this place,

all alone and painting in the sun empty stomach ,my son”!asked the man.

The little one replied, “Its my Mom…

she said my dear please go and

pursue your passion as you can,

for life isn’t that beautiful song,

which can be sung till the end,

Make your heart  contended

that …

you did what gave you happiness…”