Doing Good Anyway

On a severe winter evening, a pack of monkeys shivered with cold as the breeze began to blow by dusk.They gathered under a tree for refuge and started collecting twigs of dry wood for fire to keep them warm.Unfortunately they could not manage to find some starting fire.One clever fellow caught a firefly and placed it under the pile of wood and the entire pack bagan to fan it, hoping it will light up !
Well ensconced in their cosy nests, hanging from branches of the tree, the weaver birds watched the miserable monkeys fail repeatedly.These birds are known for their skill of weaving beautiful nests that suspend from trees.Seeing the plight of poor monkeys the birds came out of their nests to tell them what mistake they were making.The monkeys went wild on learning how silly they were.They destroyed their nests, broke their eggs and made them homeless.
Such is life. Doing good to others at times can be misconstrued.
Should the birds have kept quiet ? Why did they invite the wrath of the monkeys ? Why not let a fool be a fool ? . . . . . . . . No. Goodness does not stop from being good,no matter what odds, for, it's essence lies in doing good.
Most of us are weak in our will to speak the truth.We think it's impolite to point out the wrong.Ordinary men think as a multitude, those of substance, fear not to go alone.

What Matters ?

It's a winter morning
here in the city of Bombay
there's a delicious warmth in the rising sun
I decide to go for a stroll
to get whiff of the first morning air.

I get onto the road
and find a beeline of small children
in whites and blues
with bags of books
hanging from their tiny shoulders.
There's an innocent intimacy
between boys and girls
talking incessently
laughing for ever
excited about the day ahead.
They all appear from humble homes
headed for the municipal school
with hope in their hearts
dream in their eyes.

How proud I am  I say to myself
to see not-so-lucky children
waking up to the dawn of knowledge
from years of ignorance
from centuries of darkness
for there was no big opportunity then
to even reach the gates of a school.

Then I look down at their feet
a chance look indeed
not all have a footwear !
Perhaps the burden of books
and of uniform
has made shoes a lesser priority
the poor cloth they wear
makes the uniform an apology anyway.

My eye sheds an involuntary tear
not for I am sorry for them
to see tender bare feet
walk upon the harsh road
it's a tear of joy instead
to see their enthusiasm
not lessened for the want of a shoe
infact has multiplied
as they look happy
sure of themselves
and keen to go to school.
They seem to convey -
shoes don't matter
paper and pencil do !

Ode to Sarkozy and Bruni

I love the way Sarkozy and Bruni love each other !
it shows in every picture, every moment
an amorous convergence
in full public eye
even the black lace of her inner wear
shows above her low-waisted jeans !
it's love afterall
not hatred , the world is so familiar with.

The two are the stuff
Hollywood gods are made of
they together exude something sublime
however ephemeral
and what is not shortlived in this life ?
But why is the world going crazy
about they being together ?
why is the green-eyed monster
spewing silly expletives ?

Hey guys ! just let them be
this crescendo will die soon
in it's own dissonance
this acrimony will fade out
against the melody of their love.
I have an idea !
let's invite them to the Taj, Agra
for, what could be better
than two beautiful people
to come together
in a tribute
to the monument of immortal love ?!

Dealing With An Evil Giant

In my childhood, I had heard a story of an evil giant who would ransack homes of people living in the nearby village, eat all their food and take their belongings away, even toys of children. The 'toys' bit must have been added by a clever parent to make us do our homework! The villagers were petrified of the giant’s wrath and thought of devising methods to protect themselves. My mind also worked day and night in support of the villagers. I hated the giant and went around asking friends if anyone had a gun bigger than mine. A boyish romance with even a toy-gun seemed realistic then. At times I was tempted to befriend the giant for the simple reason that he would by now have a truckload of toys!

A hoary headed villager suggested a wise plan - make homes on top of tall trees and around them make a huge ditch covered with thorny bushes, with a secret path to come and go. Everyone hailed the plan and found merit in it. I don’t know whether the giant ever came or was ever captured. Time passed by and almost five decades later today, I still feel the presence of the giant. Metaphorically, our desires and insecurities about life, belongings, position, power and relationships are collectively the evil giant.

Living atop the tall tree suggests rising above the worldly desires and distractions. Creating a ditch around us signifies keeping ourself safe from the ills of pleasures. The secret path to come and go is symbolic of the fact that as long as we live in this world we cannot completely cut ourselves off from it. We do need a to and fro passage between attachment and detachment. You cannot remain stagnant at one end of the spectrum; it’s all about getting the right mantra that works for each one of us. Attachment upon breaking causes sorrow and detachment alone cannot run the affairs of the world. The right balance lies somewhere between the two.

An old fable has conjured up a fine recipe for a more meaningful life. I don’t know how to thank the wise old man.

Two Minds Two Islands

On two islands we dwell
shut in the confines of our shell
we step out with trepidation
and soon retract to our hybernation
but each exercise is not worthless
it leaves us wiser, however fruitless.

No matter how big a feat
no matter how humbling a defeat
we may find what we want someday
as we walk between joy and dismay
love will always triumph indeed
over cast , colour and creed.

My Lonely Friend

Hey you
what will I ever do
all by myself,without you ?

You never leave me ever
you are always there whenever
friends go their way
or destiny turns away
you always find me wherever.

There's joy to think
that you never slink
that in extreme stress
when mind's in a mess
you are my able shrink !

Bringing memories of yore
you never shut your door
I shall never leave you too
a friend so precious and true
and shall hail you evermore.

My dear loneliness
I promise you
you 'll never be forlorn
you'll never be alone.

I cry for you Nandigram

The Red Brigade has turned bloody
as Nandigram continues to sizzle
under it's oppressive hand.
Buddhabeb
you have Buddha in your name
why don't you make some sense of it's meaning and act ?

People are getting coerced for showing dissent
killed for voicing their minds
what law is that
that allows such lawlessness to continue ?

Time has come
when the Red Heads must turn grey
and break of dogma.
Their philosophy at times is amusing
but more often,worrying
when democratic questions cannot find honest answers.

I entreat you - the Red Flock
not to perpetuate
Stalin's tradition
of treating dissenting intellectuals
as 'socially dangerous' !

Perhaps Marxism was a virtue then
and in the cycle of civilizations
may be relevant again
but not now,not at this moment
not in this form.