Sunday, June 22, 2014

Being One

For all we humans are but the same,
We need food, shelter and light.
To live this holy life we got,
Sleep peacefully at night.
But then I think of why we try,
To be different in our deeds.
If all of us are just the same,
And need the things we need,
Then aren't we one as we breathe?

How everyday we try to succeed,
At succeeding to differentiate,
For a king is different from the common folk,
He eats in plates of gold and sleeps on fine oak.
The boss is different from his workers too,
He dresses in Armani and drives a BMW.
The lady across has jewellery worth a house,
The little girl has a pink flower drawn on her blouse.

The man with money will buy things that separate,
Him from his friends, the same people with whom he ate.
He will look down upon what they couldn’t be,
His expensive watch and shoes to see.
But all these people believe in being one,
Attending a charity night, giving out to the nuns.
But as they approach the stand to give,
Dressed in brands the little ones can't spell,
Do they not tell the world, they want to be distinguished,
With their brands, money, and status symbols.

All these people are liberal at heart,
No race, no color, no discrimination to start.
But I ask myself as I sit amidst it all,
In a world where success means to stand-out,
With symbols and power that shout itself proud,
Do we really believe when we look at the sun,

Through Ray-Ban shades, that we are all but one?

Sunday, May 11, 2014

The Golden Word

Is it magical?
One word that all of us know,
That brings us alive,
That how many times we’ve repeated;
We don’t know.

Whenever we fall down,
Whenever we pray,
When we cry out loud,
Or sing in joy,
When fears turn towards us,
And strength we need,
Why do we think of none but one?
No other word but you.

The way you wrap us in your arms,
Hold us tight,
Protect us from dangers our infancy does not know,
The way you smile seeing us smile,
And wipe every little tear we cry,
The way you teach us to walk,
And if we fall,
None but you we call.

Why it seems to be the ultimate healer,
Our reason to smile, our pillar of support,
Our hope in dark days,
Why is it we think of none but you?
Every time we lose or cry,
Every time we go wrong or need another try.

You are all that we ever need,
The one we look up to,
You are a magician that fills all our dreams,
And somehow you don’t know,
All that you do for us,
We convey it all the time,
Every time we think of you,
Every time we say the golden word,
Every time we say "Mom".

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

A Reason to Live

It was a moment now, and a moment back then,
When I  wondered how we started, and how we would end.
Like the seed to a shrub, and then to a tree,
Flocked with leaves and fruit.
Then the seasons change and it will all disappear,
As quickly as lighting would.

For many condemn the cold,
The barren trees and frozen road.
For who finds joy in dull and grey,
The sadness of a gloomy day.

I look at a tree outside,
The way its stood for years without reason,
And wonder what it thinks of love, betrayal and treason.
It does not matter where it has been or will go,
But it knows the seasons will change,
And it will get another chance to show,
Its green leaves, its juicy fruit,
Its warmth to a nest of leaves.

For people speak now of why they should,
Look for reasons, wishing they could,
Finding a new life and live it all,
For this one is just too small.

I look at the tree and what it thinks,
Of life and its meaning,
Of freedom and chains,
Of finding happiness or the right kind of gains.
Does it matter to it that it does not move,
Or can't express the pain of a bruise.
His friends are those, that give him company,
The feather filled friends chirping in harmony,
But only on sunny days, when all is well,
Never in the winter - the lonely days of hell.

Must it not be sad, with a life so dull and all the same,
No identity, no name,
No changing places, nothing to achieve,
No worries about money, no expensive needs.
I think how sad it is for the tree,
A life so boring and without reason,
Just adapting to every season.

Just then a wind shakes it up,
Nothing to lose in the winter, its already stripped enough,
May be you cannot take away, what is firm within,
The rest does not matter, it is an empty din.
From the tree I learnt what matters most,
The hope for a future, the patience to change,
For no one to life can dictate,
The way to make them happy, or adjust its pace.

The tree stands tall, fighting it through,
The cold winds, the frost and dew.
It has no purpose, no greater calling,
Yet many run around it every day,
Searching endlessly for a better way,
For a newer promise of something to give,
While the tree does not need a reason to live.