Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Scarlet Story


Just found a dead rose in my garden
Turning brown and pale in the heat
It lost its essence and mesmerizing beauty
As its own plant was found to be a cheat.

I picked up that rose with great care
And kept between the pages of my diary
It is a reminiscence of those caring days
Of the sweet fragrance and scarlet story.

The next day when I was watering the plant
It told me in grief and repent that it was sorry
But I explained to it that its too late
It cannot bring back the lost glory.

So it wept for a day 
And then regained its position
Decided not to be a cheat in life again
It promised itself to respect vows and relation.

Dead or alive
The strange relation will always survive.

Hidden cord


                           Image: 123RF

There stands an old lady
Besides the busy stairs
Keeps her eyes closed forever
In hope to get mercy shares.

In her green torn saree
With a bowl and cane in hands
She never begs for alms
Instead prays for every passing man -

"Almighty, bless everyone
Give them strength and health
Protect them from evil forces
Keep them in abundant wealth"

Her prayers touch my heart
Every time I pass her by
I feel selfishly self-centered
Ashamed of answering 'WHY?'

The chinks of coins in bowl
Consolidate her faith in God
And she repeats her prayers
With gratitude for her reward.

I wonder what keeps her at peace
In spite of dark destitution
Her speedily senescing years
Reminds me of this short life's mission -

Someday we will turn this world
Into a serene state of Utopia
Every emotion will be respected
In the garden of loving idea.

My egocentric thoughts are crushed
Under the wheels of my own emotions
Source of my belief is this old lady
Her prayers deepen the Faith Ocean!

And then I wonder how God plays his dice
In the dark rooms of unpredictability
Stitch a web of mystery for us
Making us move towards certainty.

The often I remember her prayers
The more I try to seek truth
The more I try to find way out
The more I get caught in loop.

But how strange it seems at times
When I think of old lady's life
Why do I feel she has attained the truth
And its me who has lost in strife?

Is my mind disoriented in thoughts
Of being in either selfish or selfless state?
Why do I feel like a fool before her
Like an ignorant blind bound to fate?

It is God's will as I reckon
His mysteries are not for masses to understand
His messengers are around us everywhere
His words are their final command.

Now I know why she is at peace
What makes her only to remember Lord
She is one of his emissaries
Here to strike a hearty cord -

"Life in true sense is a sojourn
Where we must be thankful to the host
Live amicably with gratitude to the Supreme
Till our boats reach the final coast."