Radiantly magical is the flower,
charming and shining with its power,
even under the searing and scorching rays,
smiling endlessly with the  divine shower…
Simple and impeccant image,
absorbing pessimism in its sway,
reflecting a  new ray of positivity,
In the vision of everyone’s  way…
Virtuous soul within  brilliant petals,
diffusing sweetness in the zephyr,
permeating love and warmth,
In minute atoms of the surrounding atmosphere…
Such a noble modest is the being,
even if born as a lotus in the stagnant stream,
lives it life with utmost humility ,
with a  innocuous and enduring gleam…


Magical mystical web of love,
entangles you with all power,
saving you from girths of fear ,
securing your presence with valuable seer…
Woven around with intricacy,
knowing not the diplomacy,
clinging harder to the threads,
the soul seeks comfort and gets cozy…
Who has interlaced this beautiful charm,
entwined are the souls even if apart,
woven with delicate love and faith,
this web of exquisite devotion of the same…?




The magic of the wonder wand,

As it spins and twirls in hand,

Creating an aura paranormal,

Hypnotizing wonderful lovely bird…


Striking and attractive, she is exquisite,

Pleasing sound of stunning music,

Against the picturesque nature,

She astounds the magician in real…



Astonished and amazed by the speculation,

He questions his conscience out of sure,

Is it the effect of my wand …or the

Nightingale is a born star?


Puzzled and confounded he stares,

At the sweet gorgeous bird so rare,

Yet he misses the translucent drop,

Which falls while singing a song of cheer!




This is based on a true life incident that I experienced as a child,which infused and imbibed in me more profusely the source  of faith

There was a knock at the door,

we children  were too small then,

to reach the latch and unlock ,

I pulled a chair from the corner,

to step up and unlatch the slide…

Behind the open door,

stood the  Magnetic one,

He stepped inside in a moment,

to enquire about my dad’s presence…

We followed behind,

as he rushed through the small creeky doors ,

to reach the crumpled bed in few lopes,

my mother a frail  figure then,

was lying sick on the  bed…

Having a look all around,

analysing every reason sound,

foreseeing ! words he  asked,

darted in the small place forward,

he stood behind my dad in solace,

like an Incarnation propound…

Within the small sanctum,

music overflowed,

words we didn’t remember,

and he sung the lore…

Guiding us through every step,

pulling out from the dark,

 illuminated the path  of life with  faith ,

Becoming our  Lord…!