Because I could cope with the pace of racers I thought I was meant for that Jostling a lot that came my way I was busy gathering golden feathers for my hat.
Nostalgic rendezvous turned down Many a D-days I did miss Fearful of losing that every second I didn’t even stand back for my granny, who came scuffing to kiss.
Despite feeling the twinge in legs I could never dare to rest Impassioned to lead the ongoing rat race I erroneously christened my Insanity as zest.
Little did I know, what I desired Would gradually prove a mirage What I believed would give me pleasure Ditched me, being life’s prank of camouflage.
During the days I had prowess I was never grateful of being able to fly Like a moron I remained obsessed For I only had to touch the sky.
I flew and flew as long as I could And traversed a million miles One day when I could try no more I found my lone self amidst a hundred isles.
Reclusive, forlorn, gasping there I could hear my conscience shout Busy collecting golden feathers I couldn’t notice my people falling out.
I had a sumptuous place to live But nobody to share I stopped bragging about my overflowing pocket When I found no one to care.
Medals jingled in the breeze But there was no one to be proud I had the coveted name and fame Yet I was lonely in the crowd.
Heaving sighs of utter regrets, I realised It’s not always not too late to change I would suffer henceforth, for that every time My loved ones I did estrange.
I left the hands of my fellow trippers I didn’t rejoice the journey as I scaled Having conquered the mighty mountain I grieve that in life I have failed Now I say : It’s never the name and fame Or even the wealth you gather It’s the number of people you have by your death bed That tucks in your hat, the sterling golden feather.
When you grieve for the waning moon I wish, I could allure you with the galaxy of stars Till the full moon day And drench you in the song of hope Loud enough, that you don’t hear What others say.
When I dread seeing the sun setting I wish, you could tell me That it sets to rise the next morning And clasp my cold hands With your warm ones To succour me to pull through the appalling evening.
When disquietude strangles you And your eyelids oscillate between uncertainties As you crave for slumber to creep I wish I could croon a lullaby Praying from the core of my heart That could possibly rock you to sleep.
When you see the stone not cracking Despite multiple strikes And I bogging down with despair I wish you could caress my aching body Stoking the dying fire of patience And brace me for the little more pain that I have to bear.
When I sense the lump in your throat growing Your vision getting blurred by the film of tears While you breathe unusually deep I wish I could give you enough warmth So that your melancholies meander out And tell you that you will not be called weak if you weep.
When I stand wide eyed Clad in the cloak of darkness Frantically searching for light I wish you could take it off And pull me out with zest To be soaked in the abundance of sunlight.
When you are drained out of verve Feeling forsaken and detested Thinking that you should try no more I wish I could inoculate hope drop by drop every day Loving you enough, shaking you back into life And tell you that there still are people you need to live for.
In the cosmos, like debris and rubbles Notwithstanding our identities If we could stand for each other May be We could be a lot happier.
Rabindranath Tagore in Geetanjali wrote it as an invocation to God “Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust. It may not find a place in thy garland, But honour it with a touch of pain from thy hand And pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I am aware And the time of offering go by. Though it’s colour be not deep And it’s smell be faint, use this flower In thy service and pluck it while there is time. “
God replies “ When I let you bloom my child I wanted to have you in my garland though But you gulped my light and sucked my stores Yet failed to leave your bud and grow. Inside the bud, shielded from tempests You think you have been valorous enough I let you bloom to conjoin souls To spread the fragrance of love But you stench of malignity , making lives on my bust tough. And who did teach you on colours dear I don’t remember tainting you You downed my bounties, reflected back And each appeared a different hue.
Kneel with respect, with love, with regard Kneel to ask not take lives, fool ( The white police kneeled on George Floyd’s neck which ensued in his death) I gave you a frame to help others stand And not to use as a deathly tool. If you are such a weakling dear That you can do no good at all Why do you dare to harm my toddlers Aren’t you ashamed of your moral downfall? I endeavoured to see my flowers But woefully there are none but deadly thorns Who rejoice tender flesh ripping apart ( The pregnant elephant was fed explosives, the fruit exploded in her mouth) Don’t spare even the innocent unborn. As my vision splits, trailing through tears You express joy over the seven coloured rainbow With a little of those colours, sprinkled on you Why do you find it so hard to share a bow? When I let you bloom my child ‘twas for my service I waited for you But you refused to bloom, to be at my feet For you wanted garlands at your own feet too. I’ll hold the leash of time taut I’ll not let the evasive time gallop If I see you, my child, willing to bloom I swear for the moment I’ll make the cosmos stop. You need not be a gaudy flower Nor with an ambrosial incense Just be dappled with the hue of love Just smell of care for others That’ll be my most treasured essence. I’ll pluck you not with the touch of pain But it’s relief that I’ll help you gain The day I see full blooms on the stem My child, I’ll happily pluck out all of them. “