War-Torn

War

In a world without wars
The children are not
Separated from homes
Escaping buried destinies
In shell-shocked rubbles
Clinging to rickety boats
With tattered hopes
To be washed ashore
Swept into the sand
As twisted deadwood
To be long forgotten
By the ailing world
Only to be lamented
In the gnawing pain
Of those who cared
But were powerless
To control the bloodlust
Of men sans conscience

In Child’s Play

Playground

Squeaky unoiled hinges
Of swings in the park
Sweaty breeze in the face
Games in an idyllic noon
Clang of metallic toy ponies
Multi-hued flying frisbees
Muddy barefoot squeals
Merry-go-round treble
Run and hide, hide and seek
Playing till night descends
Yes, freedom of innocence
Long lost, yet dearly craved!

Touristy Notes from Sikkim, 2017 – Part 1

Tiny tots like him walk to school on weekdays with siblings, trotting dangerously along the edge. It is scary but they look unperturbed, their cheeks red under the clear mountain sun.

The month of June brings back memories of summer vacations and travels to lands far and fair. In June 2017, our family of 3 went to Sikkim with family friends and relatives. I took notes on my phone, posting them along with pictures on my Facebook page. I bring them out here to share impressions that stay forever.

Lachen Monastery, Sikkim

We were soaking in the blue skies, admiring the mountains, and the peace, letting our prayers flutter in the wind, along with the prayer flags.

Continue reading “Touristy Notes from Sikkim, 2017 – Part 1”

Before the Sun Sets

They run through
The sunlit grove
Summer in their hair
Sweat clinging to strands
Sun-kissed now
Sunburnt at dusk
It bothers not much
For childhood is about
Fruit orchards
Yellow fields
An amusing prank here
A scraped knee there
Making memories
Before the sun sets!

Gulmohar

Gulmohar trees swaying
In the summer heat
Tawny branches bursting
With fiery flowers,
Crimson petals carpeting
The gray gravel road
Gleefully picked up
For sword fights
With tender stamens;
The tiny tip breaking free
In innocent games
Losers none, all winners be!
Green sepals become
Fake nails in child’s play
It is all beautiful, speckled
Like colors of tomorrow!
A burst of tanginess
Tingling the soul,
Children head home
Chewing sepals, petals;
Just a flower, so much to give
Until it melts – orange, blue
All comes to rest, in dusky hue!

%d bloggers like this: