Imparting knowledge a teacher says , I am just human like any , Frail am I and flaws I have many , But try I will my best to draw out , The goodness within each child .

Minds that are different they teach , Some brilliant, some playful, Some bashful, some just rebellious. A prodigious task they field daily , As they try to find in each , Their talents and their gifts .

Building character, imprinting values , To help the children stay rooted , In their faith, in their culture , Guiding them in ways noble , A teacher helps create , The ones who lead our tomorrow.

Showing the children that failure , Doesn’t really define a person , But is a stepping stone to success. A teacher reveals the beauty inside, Instils a sense of pride in each child , Giving them the freedom to dream , Teaching them to choose wisely .

The children are our future and , Great is the responsibility to teach them well , To help grow their flair their skill , To teach them to strive and create , For the collective benefit of society. Into the hands of the teachers we place , Our trust, our hope for the new generation.

Putting pen to paper , Stringing a few lines together, Though not always very coherent , With a rhyme my thoughts I write , And am told , a gift with words I have .

Am no Shelley , no Wordsworth, or Keats , Not the contemporary Maya Angelou either . With no academic excellence to my credit , Nor with any claim to a literary career, Pretty modest and simple am I .

My talents and skills can at best , Be described mediocre and yet , Am the one who recently discovered, On a day beset with the mundane , The art of making simple poetry .

When God created the animals , Each one he gave a gift . To the lion he gave the roar , The hare the fleet of feet , The nightingale a song , To enthral every ear .

They lined up one by one , Each to be endowed a favour . Until it was the turn of the worm , The least of God’s creation. He took a sliver of his light , And gave the worm a glow .

How much more then has he bestowed, On each of us his favourite creation ? Let us find that sliver of light within , Turn it into a beacon and hold it high , For those our sisters and brothers , Lost in the dark, along the way .

We are all but actors on the stage , A popular line from Shakespeare. Not knowing our roles or our lines , And of course the script unknown, We arrive on that stage, with a feeble cry , Of protest or joy, we are yet to decide .

Those early years pass, uneventful , Carefree scenes through which , Our parents and teachers guide us . We make it without much ado , But too soon we are adults. And with sadness must bid adieu , To our happy childhood.

Armed with the confidence of youth , We set out on that stage to conquer. With our conviction as our shield, We chase our vision with passion. Until those missteps make us bungle , And our lines crack and we stumble .

The cast and crew they change , They come and they go while we stay . Much to our misery and grief we learn , The reins of this stage is not in our hands . We face those cruel tricks life plays , Whether it is our best act to cut short , Or the botched ones to prolong .

With each failure our dreams dissolve, With each disillusionment our ideals crumble . No closer to the fate we sought , In futility we try to rewrite our destiny. Seeking answers we turn to religion, To books of knowledge and tradition. If we are fortuitous wisdom appears, Descends on us in small measures , Most often , much too late .

Comes the time when our act is over , No encores , no ovations, greet us . Bowing we exit silently , still wondering, Did heaven have a plan , a purpose ? Or are we merely random beings , Poor victims of our circumstances?

Guess we will never know , But in hope we cling to the faith that , God in His wisdom created each one of us , And we belong to His Cosmic story , That our lives , though fallible , Have purpose for His Divine Glory .

In unity we stand as one Nation , To celebrate this our independence, Of three score and thirteen years ! With pride we look back at our achievements And in sorrow we dwell on our misfortunes.

Vast and great is our Country , Her civilisation over five thousand years old . Home to many a religion and culture , Which she lovingly unifies , Under the umbrella of her Tricolour .

From north to south and east to west , She stretches in her graceful beauty , The colours of her land undulating . Her lofty mountains and the rivers , The flora and the fauna , A wondrous sight to behold .

Her people gentle and kind , The age old wisdom she taught us , The virtue of symbiotic existence, With respect to all creation , Be it man , animal or nature , For we all belong to one Universe.

Heirs we are to her legacy , Her proud and glorious heritage. Humbly we acknowledge those , Great men and women of valour, Who laid down their lives , To secure for us our freedom.

A Mother she is to each one of us , Nourishing us with the fruit of her land . She imparts to us the ancient precepts. Of love and service to all , Even to the least of our brothers . To practice nonviolence always and. To extend charity and hospitality to all

Oppressive powers there are many , That inflict blows to our Motherland . Of hatred they preach to breed conflict, To chip away at our integration. But let us inscribe her teachings, Of Bhakti ,Ahimsa and Daana On our hearts and minds .

On this Independence Day , Her prayer for her children is , That we remain safe and healthy. Through this pandemic, And emerge stronger than before . That all divisive and destructive forces , Those within and without, are vanquished . She prays we stand together, forever, As one family, United though Diverse .

Jai Hind

Lockdown rules the world over relaxed, The cities are limping back to normalcy . Streets are busy with traffic again , Long lines of commuters we see , As business establishments restart and, People go back to work once more .

With the reopening of shopping malls , Cinema halls , pubs and restaurants, We are spoilt for choice afresh . Delectable food we missed awaits , At our favourite eateries and bars . Our evenings need no longer be boring .

Parties, lunches and dinners we can have , To meet , to laugh , to exchange anecdotes. Once more we can shop till we drop , Visit that spa and salon . We can recommence our life of old , Before this unwelcome interruption.

But no , none of that matters anymore, For we have newly learnt that , The most contented we are with family, In the time spent together at home . We have recently learnt that less is more , And in simplicity we find happiness.

We have freshly learnt that joy is found within , And chasing excesses is no longer fun . That time spent on our knees praying, To the Almighty is gratifying and rewarding , For we have recently been reminded , Of our fragile mortality.

We have newly learnt that more than , Trendy and fashionable clothing , A simple mask can save our lives . That food cooked at home and shared , Is more healthy and nourishing. That house hold chores once challenging, A simple task now and quite easy .

But how long before our next transgression, Before this lesson in humility is forgotten? How long before our greed sets in , And simplicity is termed as failure? How long before we over reach , Stretching the boundaries of nature ? How long before the next retribution?

On the brink of sixty I stand , the start of another decade . Peering into that golden age of seniors , With it’s wild perks and concessions, that some may say demeaning, as is with incontinence .

Growing older am definitely, but not necessarily sage. I still feel the same as in the 50s, maybe even as in my 20s, if my memory don’t play truant . My steps falter a sway I have, some call it sexy , others find it vexing, but I just try to hold that balance .

At times am startled by that mirror, when a glimpse I catch in passing. Who is that stranger in my room, with hair so white and a sagging face ? My heart clenches for a moment, and then I say , well that’s the circle of life .

Practice the smile for the photographs they say, it helps hide them wrinkles, but before the click of the perfect shot, the bones ache, the muscles cramp, turning the smile into a grimace . Running up the stairs no longer suited, I take it slow, one by one , only to forget when at the top , why I climbed it .

In the voice , once strong now with a quaver , I utter cryptic words of wisdom at times. Some call it profound, others say it’s drivel , but I still speak my mind . My hands once steady now shaky, the letters I write are no longer legible, but much like a doctor’s scribble, and needless to add, the reading glasses are my new best friend – surely am growing old .

I maybe different, turning into an ‘ old dear ‘, but a wise woman I would like to believe. Like the aged wine that holds the flavour of time, I am the repository of untold wealth Of knowledge and experience gained over those many years of life. And when I leave my earthly abode, a legacy of love and compassion, I leave as gift to this world.

Oh dear friend , what lies beneath, That graceful smile you wear ? Are those shining eyes glinting, With laughter or unshed tears ? Is that confidence you drape , A veil to cover your weakness ? Are you the hero or the victim , In the grand scheme of life ?

Are you haunted by the choices you made , Or weighed down by shattered hopes ? Do you suffer from the anguish , Of neglect and abandonment ? Are you mourning the loss of a loved one , And fighting the grief of separation? Or is it the onset of infirmity that you fear ?

What then my friend, troubles you ? Do speak , lest I fail to see , That for which you seek comfort, That which you suffer alone . Mask not your pain behind good cheer , For the burden is heavy to bear . Pray speak of what ails you my friend, So together we can carry the weight .

For are not shared sorrows lighter , Are we not stronger together? Is it not easier with a helping hand , When on that dark and lonely road ? Together we can fight those demons, Confront the monsters , conquer them . Together we can break free from the , Shackles of fear that bind us .

On this friendship day

The winds of change are blowing, The end is at hand , they said . Is it another revolution, a dictator , Or another freedom fighter? Is it a super power readying for war , Or another terrorist , another bomb ?

The daily papers are rife with news , Of unsafe streets, of ravaged young girls , Burgled homes , crimes of passion and greed . We shut our minds, stopped the papers , Buried our heads and continued our race , In the pursuit of pleasure.

Is there fire raining from the sky , Perhaps a tsunami from the melting ice ? Or an earthquake, another tornado? Maybe it is that plague from hell ? But we didn’t care , as we ran our race , In the pursuit of pleasure.

There were whispers of a deadly enemy, A virus invisible to the eye . Disguised in love , they said it could kill , With a kiss , a hug or even a touch . Social distancing, became the new chant . Fear lurked in the eyes of mankind , Yet, we didn’t halt our pursuit of pleasure.

Who is to fault us our single minded , Pursuit of pleasure, in life’s cruel race ? Have we not suffered many a tragedy, Ridden many a storm ? Who can say we cannot drown in The comforting indifference? Who can say we have had enough? But we ask,, is this the end ?

Now with our freedom lost , Still looking for those moments of joy . Our wings cut our pursuit crushed, Our families scattered, our career gone , Are we going to wither away , Like those flightless birds ? Is the choice still ours, I wonder ?

The answer lies surely within each of us ! Let‘s choose to emerge from this scourge, Victorious, stronger than we were before. With our skills and talents honed , Let us like the Phoenix rise , With a collective conscience to , Benefit the world , to sustain life .

Let’s come together to rebuild, To help humanity see another day .

COVID 19 and 2020 , what a time it is !! Running through the gamut of fairy tales , I feel like the girl in every fable .

Sleeping Beauty , With COVID 19 we have bitten off , More than we can chew . Lodged in our throat, it can be fatal if swallowed, I am told . In lockdown we await the kiss of a vaccine, To wake us from this nightmare.

Cinderella, Svelte and stylish we were , until COVID 19 . Now gone are the days of ‘Ella’ And ‘Cinder’ is here to stay . Well groomed we are no more , But in the kitchen all day , Covered in soap suds and grime , Pots and pans our companions.

Rumpelstiltskin , With COVID 19 our resources are depleted , No longer do we have endless means. Gourmet meals we try to turn out , With limited groceries and skills , Much like spinning flax to gold .

Rapunzel , With COVID 19 the salons and spas are shut , My hair has grown like that of Rapunzel. Locked away in my tower , The terrace is my only solace . My long braid I can let down , For any masked one who dares to call .

😀😀

The world through a glass today . Not a looking glass nor a window pane, Oh, not that crystal ball either , But the glass screen of our many devices . Be it the computer, lap top or mobile , The television or the tablet .

We are glued to it for various activities. Children for their online education, Adults for their work and entertainment. Meetings are held , discourses conducted , Discussions had and decisions made . Doctor’s consultations are held on the screen , Ailments diagnosed and treatment prescribed. Even religious worship live streamed for , Viewing from the comfort of our home .

There are webinars where speakers expound, Conferences for people to participate. Zoom calls for families and friends , To gather on occasions, to celebrate. Weddings no longer splendid affairs, Are attended by loved ones, far and wide , On the screen they bless the couple , Raise a glass and then each to partake , Of their own homemade feast .

The young teenaged lad, bounding with energy , Whose passion is football and friends , Finds himself, suddenly confined to a desk , In front of the screen in virtual classes . All outdoor activities banned , He is shut in , within the walls of his room . Despondently, he wonders if he will , Ever kick that ball again.

The sixteen year old , almost a woman , Dreamed of freedom in high school. Of parties and wearing make up , Of romance and her first kiss . But now she is stuck, with all activities, On that screen , while her life goes by . Woebegone, she tearfully asks of her mother , ‘ Will I ever be sixteen again ?’

Strange are the times we live in , Where the screen is our window to life . The world it brings to us, virtually everything. Be it Beethoven, the Bolshoi or Broadway, The Cirque du Soleil or the Louvre . Little children content with their screens , No longer miss the ‘ Outside’ . Will we then soon forget the life we had , Beyond the walls of our home ? Will we henceforth live our lives through a glass ?