Stream of Life

Week after week
Life goes on.
Episode succeeds episode,
and yet nothing remains
except memories
of things said and done.

Moments change the present into past
the stream of life keeps flowing
sometimes slowly and smoothly
and at others rushing on boulders in a headstrong manner.

The life stream keeps flowing steadily, 
erruptions occur, subside.
But we go on
adjusting
accepting
erecting compromises
and pass on
from mood to mood
phase to phase.

Stray Dogs

Again the sight of the stray dogs crops in my mind.

Can I do something to minimize their sufferings?

Can I administer anything which will satisfy me that I anyhow  I did what I could to alleviate their pain and mine too?

Life on the Streets

While returning home in the evening

 I see many stray dogs gathered near the door.

It takes me some time in finding the key

So even without thinking I look at the dogs once again.

Unwillingly I notice that one is bleeding, two others are suffering from skin disease;

Another is not able to walk properly.

Even as I am getting inside the house

I follow them with my eye,  

Haggard, bleeding they roam the streets,

In search of food, shelter and more than anything else, a friendly touch.

 Closing the door I try to forget them and get busy doing important  tasks.

The next day a stray cat starts mewing

I dole out some milk to her.

But she wants shelter and cozy warm place to snuggle in

As it is biting cold outside.

She starts wriggling herself against me:

I get angry and threateningly drive her out.

But suddenly my son admonishes me not to do so: “she also feels cold. Let her remain in”.

Again the sight of the stray dogs crops in my mind.

Can I do something to minimize their sufferings?

Can I administer anything which will satisfy me that I anyhow  I did what I could to alleviate their pain and mine too?

I don’t know whether its poetry but these thoughts trouble me and the best way to deal with them is to write them, commit them to paper.

And forget about such an unrealistic thought as taking care of the stray dogs.                                                    

Don’t you agree?   

Right now returning home in the foggy weather,

In the yellow light  I notice some woolly brown balls in the park,

After a moment or two I realize that they are of course ‘the stray dogs’,

The Dogs that have troubled me and disturbed my inner peace.