Identity

Human face.
No eyes.
No ears.
No nose .
No mouth to speak.
Just a mask in a gallery.

Only holes for what is missing.
Who is going to wear it?

Why don't you give it --
Your nose,
Your ears,
Your eyes?
And that mouth--
It definitely needs to speak!

If it is you that it is meant for
Then feel the emotions vibrating
in your chest.
Give the mouth your voice.
Let your message resonate in your brain.
Let the nose pucker up,
The ears open wide
And the eyes shine.

Let it not be just a mask in a gallery.
Give it your feelings and your voice.
You don't want to remain
Just a mask in the gallery.
Remember,
Your voice is your identity.

Pain

I hear of death -
Of  a sudden  loss.
A friend's brother,
A neighbor's son ,

A mother, or a grand mother ,

A friend, a sister ,

As on and on the stories go
I am filled with remorse.

I have lost so many uncles and aunts.
I have lost grand parents whom I loved.
I have lost a very dear friend whose thoughts still choke.
Above all I've lost my mother ,

Whose death I could not grieve

Because of sorrows that lie so deep.

Death.
It fills me with remorse

How do we cope.?
How do we cope?

Death .
It fills me with remorse.

The sudden loss
Comes with a disarray.
An emptiness that is spaceless
A habit that suddenly won't be there
A face , that we won't ever see
A voice, that will never be heard .
A hand, that won't ever pick up the phone to ask.
A mouth,  that will never say comforting words again.
No place to rest our heads and forget the pain.

As the years go by the numbers grow.
And with each death behind us, we grow.

As the petals fall one by one 

We remain  but pollen dusts.

Hanging on to our dear lives

Till the winds decide to blow us away. 

As someone's father, mother, or uncle, and aunt, 

Brother ,sister , grand parents and spouse ,

We scatter, and cause disarray ,

In the lives of those we leave behind.

I fear the day that I shall die

My daughter will  then feel the same as I .

 No more will she be a child again ,

A mothers loss is a terrible pain !

   

My patchwork quilt :2021

The people we meet in our lives
Are like patches.
Some dark, some bright.

Put together they
Form a patch work quilt.
Stories upon which our
Our lives are built,

As we open the trunk to air old clothes,

Out comes this patchwork shroud.

So many faces from the past flit by

Forgotten moments come alive.

Each patch has a story to tell.

Of  sunkissed childhood,  raunchy youth,   adventcherous marriage and soothing motherhood.

Of friends, families and dead parents.

So much of love weaved into the colourful threads.

To my patchwork quilt,

I'll not put you away in the tin trunk again ,

You will cover me with fond memories.

And remind me of how good my life has been.

To all the missing girls.

Faceless.
Voiceless.
Heartless.
Ruthless.

Black figures of voiceless , faceless  girls.
Sucked up by the  heartless, ruthless whirl.

Moments: 3

The car halts.
My eyes are closed.

A rap and a tap.
I open my eyes.

Kholed  Eyes,
Lipsticked lips smile.
Dazzling earrings,
Sequenced sari.
Neatly parted oiled ,plaited hair.

I look at the rough, dirty,asking hands.
What a pity!
A transgender
Begging for money.

I close my eyes.
The rap becomes a clap.
The tap becomes a smack.
The car moves on.
 I hear a mocking song.

Moments: 2

On the bus to work
I saw two transgenders.
Looking at me ,
They whispered something something
and smiled.
I got up to alight.
Walking past them I asked
"What did you say to smile'?"
Shyly one of them replied
"Nothing,just that you are beautiful,
We think."


Astounded. I looked them in the eye and said,
"Thank you. You are beautiful too."

The bus halted. I went off to work

Moments :1

 I look out of the window.
What a bright and lovely day!
Red palash blooms ,standing tall
On their trees, dot the skies
Here and there.
It's a wonderful day!
With winter gone,spring is in the air,
Marred only by the beggar boy's
Dirty faced,rheumed eyed
Blank stare.