The Beauty of Forgiveness

Sorry; just doesn't seem to cut it,

When harsh words sting a lovely heart.

But peace is restored in season,

When in tears, courage begets;

Words that hope, words that restore.

And the guilty one is amazed,

At the strength of the wronged.

Thanking God for such a spirit,

As realization dawns on the son of man,

That this kind of beauty never fades,

As eternal, as the face of God.

By her Side

I woke up yesterday in bed, all alone.
Cold, though through the window, the sun shone.
For it's that season in a man's lifetime,
When he pines for a woman he could call 'Mine'.

Strolling in the park, through wind swept pathways,
I watch lovers in each others arms sway.
Arms entwined eyes in love holding,
A beautiful future, seemed to be unfolding.

But here I walk through time all alone.
A sigh in my heart continually borne.
Dreams and conceived memories keeping company,
A man who had seen lonely times too many.

Still I fuel my passions and hopes everyday,
Praying God that he hold me steady along the way
Hoping one day to dance with my beautiful bride,
And spend the rest of my days by her side.

Dream On

If you would only pause awhile,
Close your eyes and wander a mile.
If you could only let go,
Of all your dreams that you need to sow.
Then You will see y’days tears and todays bumps,
Are washed away in tomorrows triumphs.
And with a smile creased forever on your lips,
You have reached for the stars with your fingertips.

In the arms of a child

Somebody's Child, though I wish, she would have been mine.

She yields as she lets me lift her up and hold her close.

Resting her cherubic face on my comforting shoulders,

She whispers sweet nothings into my eager ears.

The days troubles and tiredness vanish away,

And all those around me seem to melt away in a blur.

She has me mesmerized with those wide untamed eyes

While we hand in hand criscross the room
She said her goodbye distracted, as I kissed her cheek,

And I was left wondering whether it was her in my arms

Or was I consoled in the arms of a Child.

Sachin

This is not a poem exactly. Its my attempt at Rap. And I must say that it isn't all that bad. In fact I think that its got influences of Rap, Ballad & Poems in it. I wrote it for a friend of mine from B-School, in 2001 I think. His name is Sachin Mehta. Yep! That's him & his wife Ankita in the pic. He's 6ft 5 inches, tall, thin, handsome, smart & a typical Delhi Punj attitude. I have picked on instances in college like rushing to college, Sachin's election as class Rep, dancing at parties, his birthday party, his unique basketball playing style of standing under the basket etc. He's a nice simple guy and somebody who kinda looks out for the whole group. I had fun writing this one. Its light hearted. Don't think I will write another one like this again though.

You know brother, first day I saw him,
I couldn't touch his damn shin.
No short man, tall & lanky,
Was no relation to our man Shanky.
Come morning come, I go damn, damn, damn,
Our tall lanking man and me scram, scram, scram.
Clever little class, want no responsibility, ya
Made him CR- fine print on his forehead- oh yeah!
A fine leader, got many assignments postponed.
End of class- 'Announcements' you hear baritoned.
Lets shake some leg, atleast one, I say,
Never see a man shake them all that way.
This man bro', and I mean trust me on this one bro',
Can make that black sportin jordan crow.
Party time, B'day time, bake a cake, man, bake a cake.
Trust me bro', the cake, from his ass he did scrape.
So here ends his story, no ballad and no funky
Sure! You wish, he was gay & kinky.
But no ordinary man bro', this guy is going places.
Its left to you and me, the storytellers to pick his traces.
So next time bro', in harlem, when we meet.
Lets remember, this good ol' legend and drink him neat.

Coming Home

Was inspired by a friend of mine to write this poem. She added a new term to my vocabulary the other day- 'Third Culture Kids' & with it a deep sense that everybody is trying to belong, trying to find his place in a lonely world. If you want to learn more about TCK's, please click here. This poem is dedicated to all those who are making their journey to that mystifying place called 'Home'.

It’s hard when I have to let go;
On this road of life, tears in my lonely eyes.
Saying my goodbyes in every new town,
And slipping through every tender embrace.

A part of me I have left in every corner.
In friendships long departed.
And my heart aches every moment,
When eyes evade and I just try to belong,

I am the dusk and I am the dawn.
Every colour of the rainbow.
I am the bridge between chasms;
In the division between souls.

Maybe some day I will find a way to rest,
Memories of those in silhouettes,
As I join hands with other teary eyes,
Seeing then I belong; on the way home.

Forces of Nature

Tell the tale O' wind that passed her by
Did she embrace you as you wrapped her in yours?
Don't scatter your memory of her into every drift
Gather them all and bring them to me
That I might know her as you have

Tell the tale o' fire that she glanced into
Do you remember the colour of her eyes?
Die not, but keep on burning
Let me reach her soul through your undying flames
That I might understand her as you have

Tell the tale O' rain that dripped on her skin
Did she quiver as you slipped into every crevice?
Don't lose her memory in a thousand.
Gather hers alone and rain again on me
That I might feel her touch as you have

Oh! That I can be them all- the wind, fire and rain,
That I might remember every essence of her
In an instant, as I close my eyes,
Let it be like her in my arms, before I am no more.

The Stranger in the Mirror

Did you see that little child?
In a corner, still, as everyone passes him by
Orphaned by time, abandoned to fate
If he stretches his shriveled hand
And his sunken eyes meet your hasty gaze
As you pass by, will you hopefully smile
Stranger you are, but stranger is kindness
To this poor soul, you are a saviour
When his bones turn to dust
And his breath returns to whence it came
Let his thoughts remain on that one kind act
And with a smile may that child let go
As you see yourself in a mirror
Seeing that it was probably you
And then you die a thousand deaths
Wondering, why didnt every stranger
Stop as you had and then you realize
Stranger you were, but Stranger is kindness.

Loneliness

Here I am again & to post another one of my old poems. I don't like it much. You may not either as it reflects on negative emotions. Don't know what it is about me that makes me express my emotions a lot better poetically when I am sad or down. Must try to write a happy poem sometime. Till then read this one. I wrote this poem when I was going through some difficult times in my life and I felt all alone. The people around me hadn't changed, but my view of the world around me had and the loneliness of the journey was exhausting. But I also realized that there are certain journeys that will be trudged alone and the changes it produces in you if good would be worth the pain inflicted on you.

In times of mirth and plenty
When we basked in days sunny
I never found reason to question
Who stood by me in love true

Now autumns changed to endless summer
No water does the ground yield
To even a distressed sojourner
All hope is lost, for deafness abounds

I am in despair, I cry in space
Seasons, world, family, friends, every things changed
I stand still and time does not
Whats to become of me, the poet pondered

Then I turned and looked in darkness vast
Stepped, stumbled and trod on hungry ground
I faced the truth of ancient wisdom
That when all is lost, ones lone

Now I read your mind, the poet muses
Did not even strangers water these very lips?
Yes kindness I received, I do not deny
Nevertheless it’s not the body that despaireth, but the spirit.

Retribution

Its been a long time since I published anything on my blog. But I am glad I am back & I am going to do my best to be regular at this. I had been inspired to write this poem about 6 years ago after seeing a movie called 'Rosewood'. This is a true story based on a nearly forgotten incident which took place in January 1923, in the small Florida Town of Rosewood where a prosperous African-American Community lived a peaceful but tolerable existence with the Whites. That existing peace was shattered when a white woman, Fannie Taylor falsely and out of fear of her husbands wrath (she had had an affair with a white Man who had beaten her) says that a black Man had assaulted her. With that lie, began a week of lynchings, beatings, burnings and destruction of properties. The Town of Rosewood was totally destroyed. With men, women and children taking refuge in the swamp hiding from the lynch mobs, only a few brave people, both Black and White stood firm against the onslaught of the mob and rescued the women and children. The poem is dark, but if you are a firm believer in eventual justice, you will like the play of words...........

Black bodies hanging from trees
Swaying in the winds of hate.
Hooded horsemen, the white man,
Galloping into the dark of night.
The moon in shame hides
Colored children in fields lie
Their homes in pieces shredded
And parents hacked in deep memories
Men are chasing away their own kind
Chasing a shade, their dark shadow.
Why did you kill your brother, O White man?
Why do you still hate him so?
Can’t you hear his innocent blood?
Scream for reconciliation to the heavens above.
Return, ‘O’ White man, Return to me,
Says the ground, swept by sands of time.
Your evil dreams have perished with you
For white bodies are hanging from trees
Swaying in the winds of justice
And hooded avengers, the black angels
Gallop away in the sweet light of day.

The Beach

I had written this poem while pursuing my MBA in Manipal. The place has some amazing coastline. Goa style shacks that serve some amazing cuisine, beach football, dipping in the sea etc are what i remember now. But what stands out is the lone lighthouse on one of the beaches, the rocks surrounding it and my friends & me sitting on the wave beaten rocks watching the sunset...............

Been on the road long
Me & my machine.
Memories rising, once lay buried
While the sun sets in my life.

I called, “Honey I will be home”,
Just a few days more,
Got to run through my life
And live those good ‘ol times once more.

The oceans now at my side,
Flashes of memories & I sigh
Walk up to the old beachcombers home
A man of wisdom & lore.

His face lights up when he sees me,
“Long time son”, he in love greets
I feel young in his thoughts,
As we stroll down the beach.

He points at our footprints,
And says, “Son, an hour & it will not be”
The tides of time sweeps away memories
The good, bad & the ugly.
At peace you are now, when you look ahead,
Not fearing the scars, left behind.

We sat on the rocks beaten by
Waves in stubborn determination
Watching a ship tossed navigating
Guided by a lone lighthouse.
O captain brave, a friend somewhere
Is looking out for you, till you anchor weigh.

Its late in the evening now
Got a wife to go back to
I close my eyes & get a final whiff
Hear sounds of Ol’ friends,
Playing in water & sand,
Now in lands & seas between
Goodbye, good old beach of mine.

You have a story to tell too!

I had written this first poem of my life when I was thinking about my life, about making a difference & about achieving something. I am sure that all of us at some point have walked this path. This poem takes me through a journey of despair to a promise of hope that we all need to cling to.

Just another day I said to myself

Lifes for the rich and bejeweled

People like me don’t matter

This world isn't getting better

Been here for long I mused

Still roaming without being enthused

So many questions in my brain

Oh God! Am I going insane?

Every morning I face myself

Try to pump in energy and verse

But still I hang over the cliff

The balance just stays stiff

The clock seems to be ticking

Soon the bucket I will be kicking
But the thought of me hollow

The debts I leave- gives me sorrow

Wanna owe nothing to no one

Giving all and only taking some

But it ain’t happening my way

Oh dear God, help me, I pray!

Many before me have walked this road

Carrying borne-guilt, such a heavy load.

Crushed beneath, they never rose

But I ain’t grinding to the ground my nose

Thought I didn’t have a story to tell

A book on my life would never sell

Who would be interested in your tale

My pal to the coffin hit the final nail

Assumed I couldn’t make a difference

Till a passing smile of assurance

Lifted a waning lifes spirit

Jumping he hugged me in a iron clad grip

Now I know I have it in me

I am as important as can be

A book I will in certainty write

The story of my life day and night

Somewhere we all have, hope; a friend

Courage (when) in distress he sends

And in sure finery he descends

When in all faithfulness one is bent

So take my hand God I pray

Till to the ground my head I lay

And my soul crosses the threshold

From this world thats grown so cold.