THE SPRING

Out of blocked and piled rainwater of emotions of days,

You began to flow downwards in to my valley of heart.

I went on to add the tributaries of my emotions,

Trusting your sources to be pure, pious, and perennial.

We went on flowing in luscious rhyme and rhythm,

In unison forsaking our individual entity.

Now that the stream takes the shape of a vast river of love,

The fear of breaking the banks creeps into your mind.

You want to control her flow and my tributaries,

That too by putting a barrage of sand of restrictions.

But how is it possible to stop the entry of rainwater in my flow?

Will it not be tough for you contend your secretions within your heart?

Will it not overflow the banks of our mind and devastate our peace?

Will it not be wise to use the flow for better vegetation, greater achievements?

Love and spring cannot be blocked by anything,

 Once they originate and begin to flow.

THE PIGS

So beautiful is the heaven on earth, our apple garden,

But the pigs of the neighborhood eye to rule over it.

They want to make a hell as they made theirs,

Want to sing an unmelodious song in chorus here.

For that, they trespass the fences from time to time,

And pluck unripe apples, smash buds and litter in the ponds.

Sordidness is their nature; to create havoc is their essence,

As they are the worshipers of violence, brainless dogmatic pigs.

The impurity in their blood, restlessness in their soul and brainwash,

Provoke them to make a hell of this heaven on earth, our apple garden.

The law protectors need to take on the law breakers high handedly,

War was this time necessary for the restoration of peace.

Rod is the logic of fools, then how could they sit on a table

The beasts understand their own language, the language of violence.

Hence, the new guardian of the apple garden hunted the pigs in their hideouts,

The guards sneaked in into their camps to teach them the pain of bloodbath.

Now silence all over, violence nowhere, peace got the last laugh,

They learn the lesson that the new protector knows their language.

He is neither a sympathizer of the hell nor weak in his will power,

As his predecessors ever since we are neighbors.

THE BOATMAN AND ME

I board your boat of love to surpass this river of my life,

Having tremendous and unquestionable trust on you and your qualities.

The water is deep; the current is swirling and vigorous,

Infested by wild aquatic creatures waylaying to drag us into it.

The weather is unpredictable and not dependable,

Offering us limited options of having a great and pleasant journey.

Why to ponder about the weather or the depth and swirls of the water,

Or the risk involved in the way or about the distance to cover,

When I trust you from the depth of my heart, swirl of my emotions,

Risk of my tears and the distance of my imagination in this adventure.

Now we already are on the sail and in the middle

With mutual consent, maybe whimsically, reluctantly, but willingly.

Now neither of us can desert the other, nor get back to the origin,

So it’s wise to amuse, encourage, care and respect each other.

Whatsoever will become of the boat will be about our fate as well,

Hence, it is better to croon in unison and be a muse to each other,

With better rhythm, clear vision and absolute understanding,

So that the voyage will pass pleasantly for you and me as well.

TRUTH OF A SOLDIER’ FAMILY

You remain away from home for months together

Leaving behind old parents, young life-partner, growing kids,

Friends, relatives and their affection, caring and warm touch.

To feel the truth of the members of a soldier’s family,

We need to grace a visit his native at the time of a war,

To witness how confidence and proud overpower anxiety and fear.

Old and ailing parents praying for the safe return of their dear,

Eyeing on the television screen, keeping close to ear the radio set,

For their blink-free eyes, days pass like months, months like years.

Feel the invisible pain of his newlywed wife, his soul mate,

Who silently weeps, but carries out rituals of karwachauth,

With merrymaking neighboring women in the absence of her man.

Watch how his tiny daughter without seeing him for months together,

Rushes to the ringing cellphone uttering “papa, papa”,

Gives smile of contentment getting a good-morning-kiss from her father.

Think what might be her mental state,

When she witnesses other kids in festival gatherings roaming gladly,

Enjoying ice cream and buying balloons holding the fingers of their fathers.

His sister waits anxiously for the last train of the day,

Expecting him to come home in Raksha Bandhan as per his words,

Without seeing him, she throws away the rakhi and sinks dejected in her bed.

Imagine of the mental condition of a soldier,

Whose leaves stand cancelled due to some emergency,

Arise out of a natural calamity that we face or a cross border conflict.

I salute the womb that sheltered, kiss the soil that nurtured,

The chevalier of the nation, my beloved soldier,

Whom we all should owe our life, pleasure and existence.

SACRIFICE OF A SOLDIER

When the Sun of youth rises on the blue of your life,

And the flower of conjugal journey blossom with colorful dreams,

You bury yourself in the burden of responsibility of safeguarding the nation.

The age in which human mind wishes to have wings,

And fly in the wildness of unguarded merrymaking,

You confine yourself to strict disciplines, stipulated guidelines, code of conduct.

It establishes that you are makeup of a different soil,

Or the essence of patriotism plunge into your soul,

Polishing and shaping your mindset to live and die for your nation.

When we enjoy social functions in the tenderness of our relatives,

You remain confined to only some community entertainments,

From the day, you take the oath as a soldier, as a fighter, as a winner.

The day you lend your soul to the mother nation,

Duty, discipline and alertness become your being,

Rest other aspects of a normal human life become insignificant.

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How silly of those who regard reel-life workers as their heroes of life,

Whereas our soldiers deserve true appreciations, recognition, respect,

As real-life heroes, leading gallant and factual life without retake.

I bow hundred times and extend my support, sympathy and respect,

To these true saviors, honest sons of the soil, proud of my heart,

Wish and pray all happiness and pleasure for them and their family.

THE INDIAN ARMY

Pradipta bows his head in deep respect to those pious feet,

Of soldiers whose life, youth, ambitions, desire, aspiration,

Are sacrificed on the altar of patriotism and philanthropy.

I salute those humble hearts of our army men,

That blaze in the hardship of duty, discipline and devotion of the nation

To make us live in the light of comfort, peace and tranquility.

Leaving behind your family, relationships, native, sweet memories,

Setting aside the golden period of your youth and enjoyable days,

You work hard at minus temperatures of the Himalayan heights,

Beast infested terrains and humidity of coastal areas,

Amidst heavy cross border shelling and continuous threat to your life,

But never repent, complaint or protest rather work as an iron shield,

Just in order to protect your beloved motherland and fellow compatriots.

In the times of natural calamities, social unrest and terror attacks,

When a situation of civilian concern goes beyond control,

The nation needs gallant and great hearts to respond,

Your compatriots stretch their hands with much expectation,

You extend yours happily and with all your sincerity, honesty,

Endangering yourself without hesitation in rendering services.

We sleep peacefully in the safety of our warm rooms,

And dream of a nice, prosperous and secured tomorrow,

Because you are awoken and vigilant in those cold terrains,

Lifting huge loads of rations, arms and ammunition.

Hence, when you achieve martyrdom serving the nation,

It is our job to respect and care your grieving parents, widow,

And deserving proud offspring as our own kith and kin.

Koh-i-noor

                             The world possesses one Kohinoor,

               Values it for its material and physical worth as a diamond.

                  For them Kohinoor is nothing but a carbon element,

              Hence, they will not hesitate to cash for their pleasure pursuits.

                   I proudly own on my crown the second Kohinoor, my pooja;

                          My solitary pursuit, lifetime achievement, love,

                     As I don’t see the material or physical aspect of her being,

                     I will never part with her at any cost any day until I exist.

                              They heavily guard it in an iron chest,

                              For the fear of larceny or displacement,

                              Block its glow by keeping it under cover,

                              And make it just a name and nothing more.

                             My trust on my Kohinoor is her guard

                              As she is safe in the safe of my heart,

                              Rapped in the silken cloth of my love,

                   Polished continuously with affectionate words to glow.

                   That Kohinoor took a blood bath on every coronation,

                   And represents the arrogance of imperialism, colonialism.

                      Example of greed and egoism of human character,

                A knick-knack worthy of use, amuses and display of power.

                    My Kohinoor is a unique instance of splendid emotions,

                     An example of the most subtle quality of human nature

                She is the Muse, patron, encouragement, elation, elevation

              Adoration, devotion and satisfaction of a poor but fortunate man.