I WILL…

I WILL…

I will prove myself that I am not a loser
I am not an underdog, I am a winner
I will be my next mother…
I don’t want to prove anyone other than me
That I am the best; I am the same as everyone
Yet I am unique…
I believe in me, I will fulfill my dreams
My dream of ubiquitous joy beyond all realms…
I will remain happy; I will not lie to myself
I will care me and at times chide me
I will be my next mother…
I will be my best friend, my alter-ego
And I will let me go to present the show…
To fly highest and still be invisible
To open all gates but not all doors
To roar and still not heard
To be my next mother
I will be always…

Perceptions

Perceptions 

The night sky was free from clouds. It was full moon day and the moon inundated the whole of sky with its pale milky light. Stars seem to lose their significance as it was the moon that was the face of tonight with its radiance more lustrous than ever before.

It was New Year’s Eve. But even the freezing temperatures didn’t seem to minify the cheer and exhilaration of audiences at the Kavi Sammelan (Poet’s Conference) going on in midst of the Central Park. The poet started his sonnet extolling moon’s beauty “Oh moon your glow is so divine, even the fairest of the fairy would envy you…”

Just a mile from the park at the Model Town slum, a group of few men, sitting round a piece of burning charcoal which seems as if hundreds of bees are vying for a spoon of honey, were smoking. Narayan was ailing with high fever for past three days. As he was the only earner of the family, there’s been no food left for today. Kamla, his daughter, quiet with hunger just went outside the hut for relaxing. Suddenly she shouted and called her mother, pointing to the moon she said “look at the moon maa (mother)! It is appearing like a crisp and hot Roti (Chapatti) just down from tava (pan)…”