Her eyes had become lifeless, like a stone ,she stood unmoved, the life of iris had turned into pebbles, yet flowed from the depths of heart and soul infinite incessant tears… She was a mother, a wife or a daughter, her voice deafened in screams of the martyr, Tis the unmovable body of maybe her son, husband or brother, nothing actually mattered … He gave up his days of affection, lost nights amorous in the deep jungles infested with insects and animals deprived himself of sleep and rest to give us a realm of freedom to live without fear… he was hungry for days or sometimes raw food he ate half cooked in deserts or on terrains while we sumptuously enjoyed the delicacies ,yet grumbled on the pinch of salt that was less in dinner… do we realize while the handsome packet of salary in our pockets we earned an only risk of attrition & no apprehension of seeing the last summer… why then like heartless beings we are ungrateful and forget the martyrs? Those who lived and died for us, to fortify our existence and secure us a future Don’t we owe a moment of grief, a sense of gratitude or a moral responsibility to support their loved ones , who laid their lives for cavalry the silent great Indian warriors …
ask the eyes that saw the black nights
the only shelter, broken thatched
and a sole shrouded cover.
ask the eyes
which witnessed death
while bloomed the buds
toiled hands at work
to earn and fill one’s
ask the eyes
those which wept in loneliness
fought against the storms unseen
every bent, a new challenge
on every road
when hope was killed.
ask the eyes
which fear love
perhaps they think,
like the fragrance
of jasmine in air…
in plateau of solitude
alone and bereft…
ask the eyes
neglected, ignored and abused
the grief of survival
in distress, sadness,
failure ,devastation or
ask the eyes
who have ne’er got enough
what is your identity
what is your sect
what is your caste or creed
what’s the name of your faith?
what is comfort, luxury
what ‘s your goal next
what’s your favourite destination
which holiday you liked the best
the silent eyes
What do selfish wants and gruesome lies do to a human? The stature of a human being falls below any level and exhibits the egocentric character. For once, the person descends into the pit of suffocation, where conscience plays its role,hereafter.
The Monologue of a covetous gambler !
gossip I in the corridor of lies,
dwells where the queen
burning in envy bright…
the timid , quiet truth sits in a corner
watching the powerful blow
might of the false emperor…
sometimes withered , sometimes cornered
the creeper of truth can’t grasp
firmly the wall of belief,
falls it, hopelessly,
while dig I the roots
underneath the soil mature…
The world reckons ,my stature
I , covetous gambler.
Oh! what’s this!
why am I suffocating , what smoke is this
filling the corridor…?
Alas! Is it my own selfish endeavor
in burning the roots of verity
I char my own … fingers.
2nd November 2014 was a day of disaster for those innocents who went to witness an event .
Read my guest post about it on Vishal’s blog : http://vishalbheeroo.wordpress.com/2014/11/06/guest-post-soumya-vilekar-read-on/
This is an imaginary excerpt of a real incident.
from the window
of my room trepid,
while barges the first ray of gold
across my site camping
the melody of little thrush
echoing mildly …
hurl I the things next to me
at the thief , unscrupulous ,
forgets who the ethics code
to steal my sleep forever…
hark, the thrush is here
red glimpses amidst the bushes
forget I , my rage
smile at the welcomed ambience.
Dim the hope , bleak appears the future in every grain of the field’s harvest rests the destiny of poor . while the ones who had a silver spoon hardly noticed the worth of a grain… a morsel was all… for a day, while the couple sleeps under the leaking roof of the shelter with a noise of roaring stomach in emptiness . One who grows the crop for millions feeds whose stock the children of everyone… he has the glass full of water until the morning sun dawns and he toils again till his last measure. The irony of life tonnes of food being thrown in spills as leftovers , in garbages, while the farmer remains famished .
I see a monster on every shoulder Thou! named stress of responsibility what needs one for survival two square meals and a shelter to live? why hath then the demon crushed the flower of mental peace gobbling up moments of happiness dancing on heads with a satanic mischief. Why carries the man then burden can there ever be a limit to desire luxury, comfort are monetary matters tranquility can’t be gained by this measure… wealth stands helpless in joy and satisfaction whilst an affluent man is clenched too by this monster. How far would you carry the Goliath smash this Lil’ devil off your shoulder unburdening useless pressure breathe freely in the enchanting nature walk in joy with conciliation, between the tussle of worry and placidness the heart wins with self-confidence and valor.
O! the figments of woven dreams,where is thy home,
who weaves the intricate motifs
of emotions and feelings,
O! fanciful dreams,where doth you take the mind,
that palace in the heaven above, it isn’t home of mine?
O! vagaries of thought, where rusheth you to the end,
the terrain is rough and steep is the bend…
O! illusive desires of the heart, which way you runneth
the silvery cascade ahead , is the mirage of unreal claims…
O!soulful heart, sing thy song of chimera
which unveils the whimsies of every confused human of this era!!!
The world has shook with terror again , seeing the Israeli attacks on the Gaza, killing hundreds of people. They have targeted homes and several victims include kids and teenagers. When shall this act of invasion stop and the world shall be spared from this kind of waged war.
The picture is just 20 hours ago.
An alarming news about the same: A Norwegian physician currently in the Israeli-besieged Gaza Strip has fiercely censured the Tel Aviv regime for its use of cancer-inducing bombs against the Palestinian population. –
Spare the world for some time,
traders of death and vile
the sky is loathsome with smokes of grey
terror echoes in the region, gunshots play the game.
Merciless cannons blast the homes
reside where the innocent teenagers and toddlers
under the crumbled structures of the devastation
look for the corpses of the loved ones.
How can’t your hands tremble and waive
While you wreck the helpless civilians
How not your hearts sink
When hundreds are killed without reason…?
Beneath the sky ,so dark and not azure
rise the fumes of hatred and agony
come ,extinguish the flames
of this inhumane behavior!