The Call Of the Trees

We are the Gods who give you life
but we can't take it away
We are the colour that extends to you
in a land so dull and grey.

We are mute and still to you
for from us sounds are never heard
But our leaves rustle in that gentle breeze
sharing the comfort of unspoken words.

We give out the very air you breathe
and take in what you expel
You would have guessed who we are
for that is what the title tells.

We are mute according to you
so definitely aren't here to plead
For We are the source of life
and it is us that You need.

Since reason has failed to work on you
try imagining this scene
Where the World is a barren wasteland
without a hint of green.

It is dying and your machines
help you to linger on for a while
With Earth's resources used up 
and land terribly infertile.

Leaving behind an orphaned Earth
you too shall fade away
Losing the Earth to colossal waste
withered and decayed.

The laws are made with none to follow
and dates to conventions set
As the clocks now tick away
with none of the deadlines met.

A dystopian future awaits you
for you do as you please
If you refuse to wake up to listen
to THE CALL OF THE TREES.

The Flute Seller

She played her flute by the main road
as everyone stood to listen
Swaying like trees to gentle breeze
to this soulful musician.

Her long, slender fingers
ran smoothly on the flute
With the music flowing like magic
as it left everything mute.

She spun tales out of thin air
as her music broke the shackles of misery
Casting a spell on the listeners
with notes bursting to be free.

She appeared out of no where
and came every afternoon
placing her bag of flutes down
and playing a divine tune.

Her music was a prayer to God
a heart felt plea to our souls
It brought heaven to us
and made the incomplete whole.

But once the music stopped
everyone went their way
no one buying a single flute
only to listen to her play.

Still she smiled and continued to play
as her sack of flutes would lie
Her music moving people to tears
and still none would buy.

I stood on the balcony 
and listened to her play
Feeling like a patron of arts
I own twenty of her flutes today.

Her 'show' was booked for free
at her coins were tossed
Barely selling flutes
for the flute seller she was.

One day she looked up at me
and gave a bright smile
My heart fluttered and skipped
and stayed thus a while.

The lady had a gift
a gift from our divine maker
Her music was transcendent
but her flutes had no takers.

This went on for months
and then one day she wasn't there
The unnamed flute seller
had vanished into thin air.

Maybe she just gave up
and continued to move on
But the World stood still no more
for her music was gone.

I was afraid to know
of what happened to her
I never tried to look 
for the flute seller.

We never exchanged words
for there was nothing to say
I wait to listen 
to listen to her play.

 

Madras to Chennai-375 glorious years

August 22nd 1639
a story was beginning to be told
India's first metropolis came into being
With cultures of new and old.

The city is a boiling pot
that tends to watering mouths
With tastes of sweet and spice
and flavours of the South.

Chennai has various names
under the rising Sun
Called the 'Detroit of India'
the wheels on which India's auto sector runs.

Movies(Kollywood) are a craze in this city
with Sir Rajnikanth as a Demi-God
People throng to cinema halls
which at times are very odd. 

Where technology dots its landscape
it is a flourishing hub for the Arts
Its World famous Carnatic Music fest
is celebrated in different World parts.

A famed seat for learning
and a frontrunner in medicine
The city boasts of modernity
and various valued traditions.

Chennai has the Marina beach
with its endless line of Golden Sand
With the cool, gurgling waves leave
and rush forth to meet the land.

The rock temples of Chennai
have withstood the ravages of time
 Tributes to Gods and artisans
Marvelously carved and sublime.

And monuments of the British era
are relics very unique
which take us into another world
where the British empire was at its peak.

The city came up in climates
of terrible sweltering heat
Infested with mosquitoes on a rampage
as the rains and heat meet!

This city has yielded icons
people with brilliant minds
people who changed history's course
and left the World behind.

Chennai is ultramodern
with the Madras of the old
375 years of an interesting story
with numerous new chapters to unfold.

Chennai maybe a city
but it has India at its heart
Situated in the South of India
and draws people from various parts.

Hopes Revived-The gift of independence

As i struggle to get to work
and reach office on time
Reading the newspaper filled
with issues of rising crime.

As i break a couple of traffic rules
driving and attending calls
Cursing and honking at other cars
as traffic snarls and crawls.

Selling Indian flags from car to car
a poor boy goes about
'India is free, so take your flags,'
he continuously shouts.

He comes to my car and taps on the glass
as the  i roll it down
Wondering about the sea of poverty
and in how India drowns.

I think about politicians looting us
the people in need
India is progressing today
but in corruption it continues to lead.

A piece of news catches my eye
of crimes against women
'Why can't the government protect
them,so that these crimes don't happen.'

The next page talks of separatists
as through India they draw lines
'To whom does India belong?
Your religion or mine?'

Neighbouring countries mock and taunt
on a thing we never agree
Ceasefires violated and boundaries scarred
'Was this the cost of becoming free?'

The traffic moves at snail's pace
and the signal, a beckoning green
But i haven't moved an inch
and red is already seen.

So back to our newspaper now
as pockets are eaten by prices
'Our country is in doldrums now
with crisis over crisis.'

As i curse our Government
the traffic divides now
As cars move to the side of roads
an ambulance to pass, they allow.

A man steps out of his car
and he directs the traffic with great patience
Our hopes are revived and that is
the Gift of Independence.

India will get better
even though a lot has to be done
If we the people be the change
half our battle is won.

 
 


 

 

The first rains of Monsoon

From the balcony i overlooked
the narrow, dusty street
With blaring horns and cussing drivers
adding to the dust and heat.

Turning my head towards the sky
the afternoon eyes flashing my eyes
I retreated into the shade of the flat
risking blindness otherwise.

My flat burned like a furnace
with summer at its peak
The weather forecast gone horribly 
wrong,predicting the first rains this week!

A few hours went by
as my body soaked in sweat
Desperately praying for a little relief
in the form of an early sunset!

And then a cool shadow greeted the earth
as clouds gathered up fast
Shielding the Sun completely from view
The sky completely overcast.

A gale now blew with force
as trees swayed and thrashed
The sky hellbent on unleashing its fury 
as powerful bolt flashed.

A loud boom as thunder followed suit
and temperatures steadily dropped
And then another thunderous roar
and everything stopped!

And then a fresh burst of torrential rain
this season's very first
Greeting the parched Earth 
and quenched its terrible thirst.

The traffic snarls at night
still continuing from noon
was washed away from memories
as we welcomed those First Rains of Monsoon.



 

War has come

So quiet , so peaceful
the World we find
As soldiers fight out there
behind enemy lines.

Friends become enemies
and patriots are put to test
For the country they love
Another they have to detest.

A horde of savages fight
and rivers of blood flow
Peace screams for help
as War strikes its fatal blow.

The hounds of War let loose
as they spread like wild fire
Releasing Pain and Suffering 
the two children, War sired.

War rips apart a country
relations painfully torn
and Death reins supreme
with Survivors left to mourn.

The Sky looks down on us
and hears our painful cries
To fulfill War's bloodlust
countless sacrificed.

We gain nothing from War
and what Peace gains is lost
And War's extolls a heavy price
as we now pay the cost.

As our peaceful quiet is disturbed
by the thundering of War drums
As we now witness carnage and death
we know War Has Come.
 

The Call Of The Blue Bird

A bright blue speck on the grey horizon
a sight at which i beheld my eyes
A welcome relief from the dull city sights
That Blue Bird in the grey sky.

Its periodic,recurring,ringing cry,
an exhilarating tune at the city's heart
Listening and going back to our roots
back to being Mother Nature's part.

Its bright blue wings a beautiful sight
a blood red beak to behold
Its chest a color hard to miss
which i would say yellowish gold.

The bird would perch, oblivious to the noise
as i trained my camera lens
Straining to capture that perfect shot
 located at a good distance.

Despite its appearance, difficult
to find, a bird watcher now i was
Waiting for it to turn up
and then clicking its random shots.

Listening to its unique call
i would expect and wait for hours
Praying it not be scared away
by construction and honking cars!

And then came a day i was waiting for
as on my window it showed
I rushed in to get the camera
and thanking for the chance bestowed!

And as i got the camera
a cracker burst so loud was heard
That frightened away the poor thing
and off went that Blue Bird!

I waited for months to come
but that call again i never heard
That call which connected me to it
The Call Of The Blue Bird.