Wednesday, 16 March 2016

                                        The Feathered Wonders

               These  wondrous creatures
               with beautiful  plumes
               Painted   meticulously
               On the boundless canvas
               of the earth and sky

               Models of Nature's perfect art
               source of delight and wonderment
               Emanating pleasure with their beauty                          All around them ,  perpetually  . .

               As if  deeply dipped in  paint
               Prepared in Nature's own secret vault
               Vibrant and glowing and vividly rich
               As rainbows in their unique  splendor
                And equally blessed do they sound
                With voices varied , alluring and sweet
                Chitter, chatter, chirrup, and peep
                Warble  and  coo  in melodious tweet .
                 Who but Nature is the super artist
                 That ordained this inimitable blend
                of colors, sounds, mirth and movement
                And put it all in these tiny creatures ?
                Oh how I wish to borrow and feel
                A  little of this enviable grace
                Though , for a short and transient phase
                 It would still be an immense bliss !


Wednesday, 2 March 2016

Patriotism --- Is it an out dated word ?

Breathes  there the man with soul so dead
Who never to himself hath said
This is my own my native land!
                                                    Sir  Walter Scott ---- 1771-1872

Wonder why I begin with these queer and curt lines written by a poet from the 18th century in a far-off foreign land ? The poem learnt long back in the school days, has suddenly surfaced itself from the pages of memory onto the present scenario, and is compelling me to pen down my own adherence to it.
    In the first place, I wish to reaffirm the well-established truth that the love and concern of people for their homeland is an almost universal phenomenon.  It is undoubtedly, an inborn, natural feeling of belonging, leading to the unquestionable love for the land of one's birth, that further culminates in a sense of pride in it. The curious blending of these fine feelings can be summed up in a peculiar word called Patriotism.
         The word has such a magic about it that poets all over the world have found it the most favourite subject for their writings. Some of these creations have become immortal in their universal appeal and relevance, like the one quoted here.
                    In  view of the situation prevailing in the country, the   musing of  an immortal bard from a foreign land in the distant past, seems absolutely relevant even today, that one who does not love his native land and indulges himself in activities against its interest  , - by word or deed , -directly or indirectly  ,must be one with 'a soul so dead ' that this soulless person will forfeit all his honor despite owning high  titles ,power  and riches He will spend a worthless life and   at the end of it----

                              doubly dying shall go down
                               to the vile dust  from whence, he sprung
                                   unwept, unhonored, and unsung.