His smiling face is constantly before me

His smiling face is constantly before me

I know it is deadly

My days are limited

Time is slipping by

I have no time whatsoever

My hold on life is slackening

I want to grasp it firmly

want to be there

To watch him grow

To hear his praises

To guide him at every foot step

To smother him with affection

 And fondly pat him

His smiling face is constantly before me.

He is so trusting 

But can I trust providence

That he will not be

Without a friend

When I am not there.

The thought evokes a tumult within me,

I feel crushed, smothered,

Unable to smile,

All the beauty in the world lost to me

But will not my sad long face affect his present?

Why should I give a thought to future?

I will not think about

What ‘s not in my control,

I will not darken his days when I am still here to witness his smile.

Whatever will be, will be.

Summoning all the strength and pasting a fragile teary smile on the face

I answer his query “What will be in dinner?”

Resolving to enjoy each passing day and leave the rest in the hands of God.

They say that I need not worry needlessly,

That everyone learns to fend for himself,

That without me, there to guide him at every step

He will grow into a self-sufficient person.

He will become self-reliant and sure of himself.

They say that I should discard this unreasonable attachment

And find peace.

I wipe my face and promise not to cry any more,

but the thought of not being able to care for him,

to leave him alone on the path of life puckers my face and tears start falling involuntarily.

Ethics of eating meat - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Ethics of eating meat - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

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.

some stray thoughts, places, persons, peculiarities and perceptions: from Ramdhari Singh Dinkar's famous "Rashmirathi"

some stray thoughts, places, persons, peculiarities and perceptions: from Ramdhari Singh Dinkar's famous "Rashmirathi"

A beauty

The air was calm
Silent waves rose and fell
Now and then, the leaves fluttered
And the sari rustled
The image formed and then scattered away.

He came there
Saw, admired, said, ‘How lovely’!

She suddenly startled,
Roused from rumination
looked at the mirrior in the water
Then slowly raised her face;
Saw the timeless beauty of the mountains
Heard the silent sound of the sea
And realized suddenly
That whatever is perishable
Can ever lovely be?
Mortal beauty can never compare with
the enchanting phenomena of lapping of the waves
Or the blossoming of a beautiful flower.

Today she looked beautiful
And he may admire her
But tomorrow she would be an old lady
And none will be here to say, Ah! Poor she!
The river will flow calmly,
The breeze will blow coolly
And it will rain timely.
Other girls will come and sit there
And will be called pretty!

She was only a small part
Of the chain stretching to eternity
And only so far as
She was a sparkle of the fire burning constantly
Shining brightly for a moment
Dying out the next could she be called a beauty.