Kaleidoscope

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar.

In dearth of space all around,

He runs diagonal and back on the roof.

There is jovial ting-a-ling of toys too, 

As he searches for friends in dilapidated walls.

There are rivers coursing below,

And many puddles made of rain.

Torn out from stacks of old newspapers,

He crafts his boats and sets them afloat.

Holi is still far, but colors stay.

With Red, Blue, Yellow and Green, 

He imprints arches of hands on his faded shirt.

Who has the bat? And who brings the ball?

This daily mess the playground speaks.

Ditched away at the far boundary,

Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.

Just the same innocent pair of eyes,

But now old and aided with glasses.

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar. 

There was no electricity all night,

And with clock the light of the dawn waits.

Only the Sun will illuminate the darkness,

Rising lazily from the skyline.

Breakfast and the schoolbag get ready,

One day more with a safety-pinned shirt at school.

Legs hurt, but walk past hastily to the stop,

Not much time before the bus gets off.

Occupying the last seat on the left of the aisle,

The heavy bag safely lays concealed.

With the loud whir of the wings in the sky,

Carelessly peeking his head out of the window,

Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.

Just the same innocent pair of eyes,

But now old and aided with glasses.

Today I gaze down from the sky,

A child I see and he looks familiar.

Read More →

Heroes of an Unjust Story

I have seen him cleaning dishes. He is the one who picks up leftovers scattered on and around the dining table, and stacks our used plates before handing them over to the elderly lady who cleans them. Yesterday morning I saw him assisting one of the only two adult guys in the kitchen. He might not have known cooking, cleaning, and to bear up with crude words of people, before he stepped into this college. Unluckily he didn’t come here to study but came here in search of work. He now works here in our hostel mess, and is the youngest one among other children here like him who once came in search of work too. Our hostel mess runs through these people. Only two or three adult guys are here, and the rest bunch comprise of kids like him who as per looks seem not to have crossed the age of 12. And they run the entire mess and serve people staying in both of our hostels, First year hostel and Senior hostel. I forgot to mention, our hero manages the catering of our food too. He is the one who carries basket of puris from kitchen to our senior hostel’s dining hall. A kid of his age, with bitterness of luck we can never imagine to taste, roams before my eyes and I thank God for whatever he gave me. All of us should thank God for what they gave to us. And probably the kid thanks the God as well, who knows. People exist on this earth, you call it heaven or hell you say, with sorts of struggle in their lives that one can never imagine. Shivers come up when I recall of some stories deplorable even more than that of our hero’s. I have always called the luck as the ‘God’. Initially, it’s the luck ( what I call the God) decides our starting inning. Actions of that very individual then takes the charge and stride towards betterment. 

The hero talks with me in the dialect of his hometown. I reply in the same dialect as well. He smiles every time I see him, and I observe the innocence on his face. I want to be honest. I get emotional quickly, but I tell you that you will get melted too once you look into his eyes for a few seconds. I am afraid, but very less people would consider it worth for taking it seriously even when I say just for a few seconds only. That’s how the majority of people have been keeping themselves away from the unjust that’s breeding around us. We don’t consider it worth to seek our attention. And why don’t we believe so? It’s the money what matters to most, and that accounts degree of worthiness for such people. Will it be wrong if I say that our Educational Institution too practices such an ideology? Employing kids cost far less than employing adults. Maximize the profit, and may be in the process, help underprivileged people who are in urgent need of money; this can be another viewpoint of our College Authorities. Whatever be the case, one thing can be asserted for sure that kids are being deprived of their childhood and are somewhere being forced to turn into adults too early. Further, I see the whole matter in a way where I find that unjust in society stays as it is. 

I end up with a conclusion in my head that I draw in my own specific way, pardon me if I judge wrongly, ‘Unjustness is conserved. It can only be changed from one form to another’.  

Image courtesy : www.moma.org 

Read More →

Photo-Snippets -> 'Nestling Happiness'

Happiness existed in small things,
In a world which was itself small,
But it could fly;
Dreamy leaps with fairy wings.
In that world, views were pure
And so were goals.
Sacred emotions
Without fear,
Life was a child’s play.

I wish, If I could get my childhood back!

Read More →

My Nanny Granny...

Tucked up in saree nicely

Lit up with makeup lightly,

Fat around with emotions heavy

Lived here my nanny granny.

Does the divinity

And Supreme serenity

Reside in stony deity only?

I asserted

That they belong to my old lady.

With rich inside, and grace allied,

Here lived my nanny granny.

Read More →

My Childhood Shelf...

The floor is now squeaky,

Walls bleached out,

And have turned dingy.

Scribbled with my name,

Stairs look the same.

Frames have gone empty,

Paintings lost their colours,

And Look no more dainty.

I wonder that I still remember,

The key to my room’s lock,

Still tough & as hard as rock.

My room where I lived,

My gloom that outlived,

And I am back here,

With my eyes wet,

Riding my childhood gear.

Read More →