Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Written in the womb

He’s sleeping with his toes
Curdled to his chest
Floating like an underwater
Seed at his best
Caressed by her womb
As he grows in that nest
Of the world, what he knows
He’s dreaming of the rest

All that he dreams
With his black little pearls
Are blues and greens
And white sea gulls
Those dreams that have sung
His sweet lullabies
Would turn as a rung
To climb miseries

He’s waiting for the spout
Of his special igloo
To let him go out
And find some clue
On all that I say
To bear his doubts
Of the world, what he knows
He’s steering his sprouts

Wherefrom he is laid
On his bed of rose
Wrapped by her side
And held by her close
There from he has clung
To those endless ropes
On which would be hung
His vacuumed hopes

He would play few years
As she leaves him alone
With a maid and fears
Of her absence at home
Thereon gets his life
Into restless routines
He would run on his wheels
And then get to teens

If he then be a prey
For the Shakespearean race
He would get him a stray
In the love furnace
For the sake of his love
He would act as a slave
With all done above
To be blamed at his grave

He would walk into midst
Of his second thirty
When his dark eye lids
Couldn’t bear reality
All he would see
In this selfish crowd
Will sink probity
For coins been bowed

With few such decades
Gaspingly gone
Drained with the invades
Of struggles bygone
He would turn those pages
Of his great history
And find those cages
Of his locked fantasy

What has he lived
To call it a life
Was it believed
To keep him alive
Has he done justice
To his wills and wants?
Have had practice
To give up for bonds.

He would see this earth
As a mean vulture
Would mourn his birth
And curse nature
Then all he would need
Is to get back into her
With someone to heed
In that little shelter.

So sleep little bird
Dream lots as a smug
You shall not be disturbed
Let peace come and hug
Then your final shroud
Would feel so proud
Of collecting in your hood
Only dreams of the good

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Suicide - It's only a moment's wrong decision

One among the latest statistics on mental health has published that 8500000 men and women die out of killing themselves every quarter of a year on earth out of which 60 % is under 18. Be it now a little moderate figure, might turn out to be 15000000 in 2010. Every member of the WHO has been suggested to take measures to prevent this rate from going up with just not even ¼ of the world’s medical practitioners as psychiatrists. It’s threatening to know that even one among the children in our neighborhood whom we would have been watching, playing cheerfully and biding us a ‘Hi’, might get him caught into this moment’s thought of ending up his life at some point unable to bear the stress that the modern world has brought in him. Concerns from psychology say that even if you doubt someone with an urge to kill himself that is being expressed by him causally out of frustration, do talk to him in friendly terms and assure that everything around him in this world exist to be utilized by him for living and not to die.

If he knows – 8400000 of different species live on earth out of which 900000 are various types of aquatics, 2000000 are different varieties of plants, 1100000 species are insects, 1000000 varieties are birds, 3000000 types are beasts and only 400000 species are human being. Having come to earth as aquatics, then as Plants, then as insects, later as birds, finally as beasts to reach this distinctive man with a special rational power, being the least count of all the living beings on earth but the best, having traversed through 8000000 species to attain this life, shouldn’t he be bold to get through just one life to its fullest?

A thought on how would that moment’s thought of killing himself standing on the top of a cliff, would take a turn if he could hear these 8000000 species tell him their stories and here I go………………………………………

Touch of the destiny

Hollow depths throw open their arms
I stand on the top of the cliff in qualms
My in-man orders to kill myself
I have never seen a good of its own self

From the time I had known my first desires
I was thrown to the heaps of failures
Not a single ray of hope in bliss
I have seen in life to have brought success

As I mourn of my past to grab my death
A voice across as a thunder breath
Shakes me hard and blows my cheeks
Taps my mind to listen to these shrieks

“Foggy winds do blow everyday
I am a twig on the breast of the roaring bay
Haunting are the clouds that gather seaward
Will I still bear flowers to stay not withered?

Scary eagles do hunt all nights
I am a baby bird, on the leafy heights
When the sun is up the valleys ahead
Will I see her again? She guards my bed

Million legs give rarely a way
I gather little grains as an ant for my hay
When the winter comes to give me a lay
Will I still be there to dine and play?

Watchful sharks do live in the sea
I am born under water as a fish to be
As I swim across those miles to my place
Will I have all strength to battle their chase?

Hungry leopards stay hidden from my sight
I live in the woods as a deer with my plight
When I am seen by them as they look for their prey
Will I save myself? With them I fray”

Hollow depths throw open their arms
I stand on the top of the cliff in qualms
When the lives of those tiny beings are heard
Will I step forward as a limping coward?

When an ant so small, a bird so tender
A fish, a deer and a twig so slender
Could stand so firm to face reality
Could fight for life with finality

Why did I think to give it an end?
What did I do to get it mend?
My life is better than those of these races
I, as a highest should meet tough phases

Though I am gifted with the rational power
A precious one that shall make me braver
Every other breed doesn’t blame its cradle
Except for me whose thoughts are feeble

I turn my feet to look what’s behind
Fame and praises of my future signed
I need to shred my veins to my best
Will they fall as fruits in my hand if I rest?

Those who fear to challenge the world
Would sink their goals with needs running cold
Men who dare for lessons untold
Are ones who get their visions unfold

Monday, August 25, 2008

Top ten to secure

It was the occasion of my cousin’s 1st marriage anniversary. A party was hosted by the couple in their premises. The living room was so carefully decorated to pull a ‘Wow!’ from all of us. The TV unit exhibits a huge collection of expensive show pieces from The Life Style all well placed and carefully set. Sparkling Italian dining glassware sits safe into a showcase of the dinning hall. A well arranged kitchen smiles proudly at the other ladies. A bed room so gorgeous one could have never seen in a house that belongs to an upper middle class family, symbolizes the newly married couple. As we sat on her cot and had our teeth munch with various topics, her husband, who came into the bed room in search of their marriage photo album, opened their posh wooden wardrobe which had no lock. When everyone appreciated my cousin’s consciousness on cleanliness, leaving the last rack of the store unnoticed, I was shocked to see those photocopies of all their personal documents, although secured in files, kept in an unlocked area to which anyone can have an access. When I tried to get her know the consequences of her carelessness, as with many young people, she didn’t consider that as a major fault. Most of us tend to take things easy until something warns us literally in reality. Why do old people at home ask us to keep certain documents secure? Why talk of the originals when even the photocopies have to be secure?

Top nine picks to secure.

1. Your date of birth, full name and your credit card number

Anyone who gets to know this combination can easily break your account that is in pack with the credit card belonging to the same bank.

2. Your date of birth, full name, passport number and dates of expiry and issue

Anyone who gets to know this combination can duplicate your passport as their photo identity and apply for a credit card or a personal loan (private banks are too greedy to get a customer and they lack much procedures).

Also international terrorism uses this as an easy technique to mislead the authorities in concern.

3. Your pan card number and your full name

People could file taxes in your account and could also earn interest out of it.

4. The area of your marriage registration

Anyone who gets to know this can acquire a copy of your marriage certificate (it’s possible in Indian environment) and find your full address. He may engage in family partnership businesses in your name.

5. Passport size photographs with anything other than white background.

Most dangerous that it can be easily manipulated onto duplicate documents.

6. Photocopies of your property documents

They can be easily duplicated and sold on your behalf. Even revealing of the survey number is not advisable.

7. The gazette copy number you have changed your name with

Your name could easily be used by someone who indulges in malpractices.

8. Your professional visiting card

Do not trust anyone and offer your professional visiting for he may use it for unnecessary obligations or dupe his influence with you to offer unwarranted favor to an innocent.

9. Your email address

Only someone knows your email id he can pull your interest to things that you don’t need.

In all the above cases you would be the final convict even after 20 years in which case you might not even know the crime you are blamed for.

Thursday, August 21, 2008

DES - The Dollar Effect Syndrome

As I walked across the arrival stretch of the Melbourne airport, I was surprised by that name board held high by a man whose head was almost unseen amidst of his heavy body. It signed a name so pleasant and I approached him recognizing myself to be received. So were the other aspirants of the same University. Holding my breath with the unbearable cold wind blowing my nostrils, I must have thought, I was left safe in a fairly decent inn that can provide me with all the basic necessities at a nominal cost. Having in mind those quotations that my consultant had given about the living cost of this alien land, I bid a graceful bye to the guy and checked in. The check-in form had all those promising facilities that the inn provided. The receptionist could see a charming smile on my face which soon had absconded with the notice of the final figure that appeared most unkind to the eyes of an Indian who had only dreamt that to be her first day salary at work someday in future – 77 $ per day with only a breakfast and drinking water from the tap. I knew that the travelers cheque of 3000$ that I had proudly carried trans-continent, is soon in danger.

Every dinner at the cheapest possible outlet penalized me with at least 1000 in Indian currency. By then I had stopped drinking coffee to save 100 Rs a day on it. A spiral wheel of nostalgia would then start running between my eyebrows with that old Indian melancholy music at the background - It was a sleepy Sunday morning; So difficult was it to brush my teeth and ask for a coffee; It did come with a great aroma on my table with her morning wishes but all that I returned were complaints- “Mama! How many times should I tell you not to give me one like what you have? I am not a diabetic like you”. Now give me a coffee with no sugar or glass full of sugar I can sip it. It’s heavenly if it comes for 50 cents. What a drastic change in life! A course of 7 days in a different land taught me that I would starve and die one day if I even unconsciously finger a dollar to rupees and I better train my eyes to look at dollars as normal as rupees. Factually, one from a country of lower economics on living abroad in a higher economical background can never overcome his abacus multiplications on relating currencies of these two different countries. DES – The Dollar Effect Syndrome. This would make an Indian feel like a fish out of pond in countries like Australia, USA and the UK, the luxury of which is inviting but consequentially, suppressing. When their sons and daughters break theirs heads to compromise with this pathetic situation there, one stays envying them on hearing talks of their great life styles spoken proudly by their parents in India. What a funny world!

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Aren't we guilty?

Every Sunday afternoon after a great variety meal, we sit to watch our favorite channels in the television, some getting us entertained and some getting us informed of what’s happening around. As we keep scrolling up and down the end product of laziness or of the so called advancement of science, the remote control, we get stuck ourselves to our new cozy sofa, sometimes with even dozing heads pretending to watch but listen. On one such afternoon in one of the TV channels, was a headline issue followed by its details as to be happening in Japan.

- A new born being taken care by a home for orphans, unclaimed by both his official parents and his surrogate mother. The surrogate mother, having no claims by law is obviously not considerate. But it’s painful to notice that the couple, who had been so much desperate to have a child, who had gone to an extent of any how getting one by fixing a surrogate mother, is now so indifferent in claiming him as their child or as the child of anyone of them after a divorce. What does the new born has to do with their divorce?

When this strikes hard in our heart, do we only think of one such child in this world? Our thoughts wander around thousand such children left unclaimed, left with unidentified belonging in several such orphanages. Are we not guilty of not doing anything about it? It’s reasonable if the youth community says it’s not practical to take up one such responsibility on their heads, when they themselves are thriving hard to find their identity in the society (There are of course strict laws that prohibit young couple from adopting children unless they have a valid reason to do so. Also one should have sound financial back up to get one home). But what can be opinionated on rich, old people who seem to be calling themselves as great souls to have accomplished all their responsibilities in an exemplary manner towards their family. Having done all this that’s needful for their grandchildren, aren’t they guilty of sitting with the newspaper and on phone with friends and family to pass the last few years of their lives? Will the old think? Every drop makes an ocean. Even a minute thought about this will make a huge impact.

Cradle uncared

Beetle bites on a fresh blossom
Of crystal pink and a smile awesome
How can the nature be so gruesome?
To leave him in grab of a deadly spasm.

A bud that has come out of sadistic root
Or a seed that has formed in an eaten fruit
A boon that’s uncared by unkind divorce
Or a god who has escaped a family curse.

He sleeps with his cotton like fingers on hold
To the rods of the orphanage cradle, it’s cold
Whenever he wakes for his hunger and heed
In his eyes, is a thirst for his mom didn’t feed.

Ten billion kids on parental care
He is alone as a deserted heir
No directions fall on his lonely path
Only swampy love can set him in froth.

The rest of the blooms get some water
Has he been born to starve and wither?
If fate can be wild and act so perverse
Hands can be fair to help him traverse.

Why won’t he love his couch to be swung?
What should he care if lullabies are sung?
Why won’t the doors of the kind open?
And let him live life as no orphan.

Friday, August 8, 2008

Landing in australia

It was the first alien land that I landed on, to pursue a Master’s degree in Engineering offered by the University of Melbourne and therefore to live there for two years from then. One can never guess how different it is for an international student to enter this country with her luggage weighing 48 kgs. With an idea of living an Indian life there in Australia, assuming that the rules would be the same like other countries, I walked towards the exit gate, prior to which was the secondary immigration check. Two Australian security officials checking my suitcases completely in and out stirring all that they have been stuffed with, asking too many questions on the home packed ready made food mixes, hair oil, pickles bottle (trust me it’s not that easy convincing them like in the Tamil movie “ Nala Dhamayandhi”) . The packs looked unauthenticated for them unless they have been packed by a food company in our home country with all the ingredients, batch code, manufacturing and expiry dates on them. The minute I arrived out of the exit, I had a great relief of at least having saved a little of items from their throws. That was when I understood why there were too many list of questions in the form for immigration check during the transit.

I heard a co-traveler saying “They are too cautious in saving the quality of their living”. But what has it to do with what I have brought from my country for my use? It seems there were cases dealt in the history on adulterated products from other countries being sold in Australia and they consider this as a serious threat to the quality of their lives (Just compare it with the concerned Department in India). But this is only applicable for the first entry of a person and the subsequent ones are trusted 100 percent. So if a first entrant into the country wants to save a lot of money by taking everything from India at the rate of Rupees, he would any way land in losing the difference what he would have to pay in terms of Dollars for the same. From hair oil to boot polish, pickles to sweets nothing is permitted. But spotting out the place you wanted to be dropped is easy as you have information centers brilliantly located on almost all the places near all kinds of public transport facility outlets.

To be continued………………………………………a country a fortnight.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

On my First Date

It was a pleasant first date
So many years late.
By then it was for sure
To start a life together.
Although we longed to hear
Explain each other
No words got on tongue
I only had this poem sung.

You are my soul

Who fell in love
With the prince of Haden
It’s me queen Venus
The moon’s maiden

All around me
Seem to be in glaze
All that I see
Turned to be your face

How did I tame
My words to be sweeter
All with your name
How long would I hanker

Although my eyes
Have lost their lids
Dreams that spice
Have moistened my beds

Where have they gone
My sleep and my hunger
You are my dawn
Who made me a songster

Laughed to myself
Gone crazy I wondered
Anger would help
Your thoughts when hindered

When will your arms
Show me you are warm
One million swarms
Would rush through my swamp

What will I do
If you keep me away
Will buy you the heaven
Just glance me a sway

I am your heart
And you are my soul
Don’t keep us apart
Death charges the toll