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!

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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.

                                   

A SOLDIER LAMENTS

I saw him fight  that night

Not against an enemy at the front 

But a few unreasonable minds

Bent upon degrading

Things and values

He held uppermost

As the love of nation was being termed 

'Forced nationalism '

And shouting abusive slogans

Against one's own  motherland

Was being justified

In the name of freedom

Of expression.

Even the emblem of national honour

The Tricolor 

Was made a topic of heated debate.

And  the veteran soldier's heart 

Could no longer contain 

His sorely injured feelings

 At the most unsavoury  reasoning

Offered by the so-called liberals

And we saw him react  and burst,

Pour out his anguished  heart

Like a thunderbolt at first,

Then  shouting with a lump in the throat

And  helpless tears  at last

His voice silenced all 

And made everyone  realize 

That he was in earnest to react

And  express his strong feelings

With that unusual retort.

That the nation and its honour

Are over and above all else

Are the succour we all live by 

For who lives if the country is dead 

And who dies so long as it is alive  .!

SIACHEN SORROWS

                                            
   O you killer peaks of Siachen!                                Cruel has been your whim,

  Ignoble and insane,  

 To unleash your deadly assault,

 On duty-bound   sentinels,
 Without giving them a chance,
 To fight and prove their mettle.

  Look, every sensitive  heart,,
  Is  struck with a rude shock,
  Wondering what prompted you,
  To play a game so unfair.

  Wasn't it an act of deceit,
  Vicious and  cruel,
  To trap them so unawares,
  In that most unjust warfare?

   Had  some evil impulse,
   Overcome you all of a sudden?
   Mischief so mean  otherwise,
   Couldn't be your normal action.

    Or did you feel challenged,
    Insecure or belittled,
    By the superhuman fortitude,
    Of the heroes posted there .?
                                      
    No, they  hadn't been there,
    To dare your sky-high stature,
    Nor disrupt your pristine solitude,
    Or blemish your snowy splendour.
                                            
     They had come there trudging, 
     The tough mountain terrains,
     To guard the precious lone posts,
      Bordering their own motherland.
                                 
      Just to keep a silent vigil,
      On and around the fields,                                                                                                                                Lest some evil eye should dare,
      Desecrate the sacred portals.

      Yes, they were there braving,
      The most inimical  climes,,,
      Performing their duties in earnest,
       As sacred, religious rituals.
                                 
      Then why did  your cruel avalanche
        Hit  as if they were your foes,
          Buried  them alive in ice,
         Hiding their very existence?

      But be not proud you agent of Death!
      Of cutting short their  physical beings,
      For stories of their matchless courage, 
    Will   keep echoing in the air  around you
     And in the mind and heart of the nation !!
                                        

                                       
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IT'S SPRING HERE ONCE AGAIN!

            Hail to you o charming guest!
          The most awaited and  cherished,
          Landing majestically onto the earth
          With the ceremony of a  real king!

       The one whose  advent does signal,
        Sure retreat of  winter's biting chill --
        A season  harsh and  unkind  indeed,
        With killer snow and cruel wind.

          Its truly atrocious ways,
          Were  borne  with  patience only because--
          Of  the deep-set  hope,
          That you were following close on its heels,

          And would arrive,  as ever,on time
          To bring an end to the winter's reign,
          Making the departing cold give way, 
          To pleasant sunshine  life- giving warmth.

              Like a child, I watch in awe, 
            The good earth rising up in cheer,,
             As if from slumber  long and deep,
             Now wearing a look vibrant and fair.
       .

            All  around me I  see and hear
            Birds of varied plumes and  sounds
            Singing in glee in  joyous flights
              Or hopping about in sprightly cheer.

         The koel's musical notes come  drifting,
          From mango orchards in full bloom,
          Bearing promises of fruits to come
           On the wings of warm spring air.

           Even the dry and pallid landscape, 
          Is now abuzz with life's business,
          Dressed in green,  she strands refreshed,
         With a host of living beings around.

          The diligent  bees  are  busy as ever,
          Dancing around the friendly flowers,
          Collecting nectar  they need to make,
          Honey for themselves and for others.

          Joy  abounds  on the earth and skies,
          Nature is smiling, and with it goes on,
           Celebration of life and re-creation,
             Leaving behind all past losses.

           These shows of  gaiety and exuberance,
            Are sure signs of your blessed presence,
           Mirrored in the world of living beings,
            And even in so-called insensate things..

           Hence, hearty welcome o royal guest!
           Though  as a visitor on a sojourn  here,
            Pray, stay with us  for  a little longer,
           Extending the bliss that you kindly offer.










         

Unusual Homecoming

   

                                          UNUSUAL HOMECOMING
                       



                                    Home he did come that ill-fated day,
                                     But  none had thought the way he did,
                                     All wrapped up in the solemn tricolour,
                                        Sure symbol of ultimate honour.

                                     Truly it was the most befitting honour,
                                     For a braveheart so  bold  and daring,
                                     Who put himself at stake without fear,
                                      To ensure that the nation doesn't suffer.
                                                                                                                                                                                                            Devotion to duty was his prime concern,
                                     Fighting till the end to foil the attack,
                                     Paying  his flesh  and blood as the cost,
                                     He set an example of supreme sacrifice.

                                     The strike having been foiled  now,
                                     The guns are silent  for a while,,
                                      But the sounds of anguish still resound,  
                                      Inside and around the home he lived.

                                      Which had  hoped he would, someday,
                                      Come back alive, secure and gay,.
                                       Instead came the bolt from the blue,
                                       Bringing him home this gloomy way!

                                       Heaps of flowers and wreaths offered,
                                        Tributes and messages of condolence,
                                       Are but poor solace to the   kins,
                                         Shattered by the sudden blow.


.                                        Words and gestures of sympathy,
                                        Can hardly lessen so profound a grief,                                                                                                           What can compensate  the loss,   
                                         So immense and beyond repair?

                                        The only healing thought is that,
                                        He gave his life  for the country's sake
                                        And that will  keep his name alive,
                                         Forever in our minds and hearts.
                         

                         
Written as a tribute to the martyrs of Pathankot terror attack.

Musings over a Passing Day

            It's new year eve again,
            And I am happy,
            But a little bit pensive too.,
            Silently I hear the clock tick,
            And watch the tiny moments,,
            slip from my hands,
            Like grains of sand,
            In the hourglass.

               Time ---the mightiest of the mighty,
               The subject of  eternal wonder,
                wrapped in folds of mystery,
                 Defying all human wisdom,
                 At defining its peculiar history.

                    I, too, often wonder,
                    As to how its unseen hands,
                     manage this vast universe,
                     Its myriad life forms,
                     And even insensate things.

                     Like a traveller ever on the move,
                     It goes on forging ahead,
                     Turning days into months and years-
                     Centuries and millennia.

                      On what fateful day of yore,
                      Did it set out on this unique voyage,
                      What undiscovered  continent,
                      Is it headed forever to ?

                      And here we are trying,
                      To bound its eternal run,
                      Into the frames called tenses,
                     Past, Present and Future.

                     But where are the lines of  divide,
                     Or do they at all exist?
                    My mind is dwelling again,
                    On this perpetual riddle -

                     About the  nature  of  Time,
                     That always seems  beyond,
                    The knowledge of human  minds,
                    Through all the ages bygone.

                     As to how its magic wheel,
                    Carries us always forward
                    On the cycle of  past and present
                    To the future ever unknown!