FORESTS IN FLAMES

           
             A forest on fire!
             The most terrible sight,
             Haunting one ever after,
             As a dreadful nightmare!

              Brings untold  sufferings,
            To the myriad forms of life,
             From the soft  green grass,
            To the bushes and tree lines.

              Hosts of ants and tiny  insects,
           , Bees, butterflies and  birds in nests,
             Mammals with newborn offspring,
             And even human beings close by.

               All are  madly running for life, 
 .             Here and there in  utter  distress,                                                                                                                  Looking for shelter in the very jungle
             .That had been their own sweet home.

              What caused this most terrible scenario,
              Is  a question that troubles  everyone,
             Was it  nature or some human  being,
              That planned this criminal misdoing?

                 Was it a spark created unawares,
                 By someone's acts of  negligence,
                 Or the result of a deliberate offence,
                 Planned with some selfish intent?

                Whatever the  reason be, but  now,
                 The bitter truth we sadly  face,
                 Unable are we  to fight   this  blaze,
                 However hard we go on trying.

                 Hence as the  ultimate resort,

                 We are turning to you Rain gods,
                 Pray, put an end to this suffering soon,
                By pouring your cool showers down !!!
     


       

         

         

         

The Good Earth

    

                                         A  day set apart in the world calendar,
                                          In honour  of the great good Earth,
                                       Is aptly in keeping with the need of time,
                                          And a wisely thought of gesture.


               It's time for us to owe  allegiance,
               To this benign, silent benefactor,
               Express our gratitude and concern,
               Just we do to our own dear mother.

                                                A day not only to observe as a  ritual,
                                               But  pledge ourselves to safeguard her,
                                               From the threat of rampant  destruction,
                                                Caused by man's insatiable greed.

                 High time we  acted in earnest
                 As hers and our lots are but interlinked,
                 Let us stop plundering  her further,
                 Or we hasten our own sad end.

                                                      She is not merely soil and sand,
                                      .               But a spirit with  rare virtues,
                                                      Endless patience and  kindness,
                                                      Beauty, grace and elegance.

              No less adorable  than a mother,
              That gives us birth and brings up,
              Allows to grow and play in her lap,
           .  And offers firm ground to stand upon.

                                                     Now, shall we as ungrateful   children,
                                                     Neglect, ignore  and damage her  life,
                                                      Chasing madly our selfish  interests,
                                                      Putting in danger her very existence?

              For millions of years has she sustained,
              Sources for us to survive and flourish, 
              Shouldn't  we protect this  rich heritage,
              To be inherited by the children to come?

Mother India ....... forever adorable , forever loving !

    She is our  Mother!

    Yes, she is.
     By any definition.
    She is the one that gave us birth,
    Nourished, nurtured and enabled us,
    To live and enjoy this beautiful life.

            Though not visible  in flesh and blood,
             She is a unique,  immortal spirit,
             Conceived in our minds and hearts,  
             A sacred entity in herself.

            To be felt,  adored and glorified,

             With epithets most brilliant, 
            She is known as the land of birth,
            The Motherland..

           The proud mother to millions of children,
           Of varied merits and  ambitions,
           Hailing  from diverse  backgrounds,
           With different mindsets and emotions.

 

            There're people with seasoned thinking,
             And also immature and devoid of reason;
             Adamant at raising voices of dissent;
               Only to feed their selfish intents.

             But this magnanimous matriarch;
            Treats everyone with equal fondness;
             Doles out her gifts  to all fairly
             Without the least discrimination.

             Whether they be sensible and grateful,
              Or most  arrogant and thankless,
              She treats  them with benevolence, 
             That's the mark of an ideal mother. 


               For, firmly she follows the  law of nature, 
               To love and guide  her children  always,
               And let them decide for themselves,
             Whether to be grateful or do otherwise.

               So what if you sing not her praise aloud,
               Or even refuse to pronounce her name?
               Over and above these rituals she stands,
               Intact is her glory, you uphold it or not!

वसन्तोत्सव ......

पहनकर बहुरंगी  परिधान
 धरा करती  किसका आह्वान ?


भ्रमर लाये किसका संदेश
तितलियां  देतीं  क्या निर्देश ?

सुरभि आप्लावित  वातावरण
दे  रहा  किसको आमंत्रण ?

पवन की गति होती क्यो मंद
कर  रहा       बोझिल  क्या मकरंद ?
  पत्र पुष्पों   की बंदन वार
 लगी क्यो वन उपवन के द्वार ?

कोकिला ले कर पंचम तान
कर  रही किसका गौरव गान ?

पाँवों    से सिर तक खिला पलाश
छलकता किसके प्रति उल्लास ?

किसलिए बौराया  है आम
कर रहा झुक-झुक  किसे  प्रणाम ?


छा रहा चहु दिशि  नव जीवन
भला किसका यह अभिनंदन ?

अतिथि वह कौन अनूप विशिष्ट
स्वयम वसुधा सुंदरि  का इष्ट  ,

 व्यक्त करने आदर  , अनुराग
 बिछाया पथ  पर  राग पराग

   हुआ  मन  भी   वासंती  आज
   आ गये   सचमुच  क्या ऋतुराज ?


    ,

The Road Through The Woods

                                           
                                        The Feathered Wonders


               These  wondrous creatures,
                With beautiful  plumes,
               Painted   meticulously,
               On the boundless canvas,
                 From the earth to sky.

               Models of Nature's perfect art,
                Source of joy and wonderment,
               Emanating pleasure with beauty,                                                               All around, perpetually.

                  As if  immersed in the paint,
                 Made in Nature's secret vault,
              Vibrant, glowing and richly coloured, 
                  Each one, a rainbow in itself.
        
                Equally blessed do they sound,
                With voices varied and sweet,
               As  they Chitter, chatter and peep,
              Warble and coo in melodious tweets.
             
         
                Who but Nature is the super artist,
                That  created this  living blend,
                Of colours, sounds, and patterns,
                And put it in these tiny frames?
         
                Oh! How I wish to borrow and feel,
                A  little of this enviable grace,
                Even for a short and transient phase,
              It would indeed be an immense bliss!

.
         
        
            
               

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.