Skip to main content

Midnight

At the stroke of midnight for most the date changes but for some it's life that changes.
every new day has a new story to be penned,
every new day has a new picture to be painted,
every new day has a new song to be composed .
But, for some at the stroke of midnight it is the time for a eulogy to be written in their memory. 
At the stroke of midnight for many a new life starts.
In the middle of night a new hope is born,
in the middle of night a new milestone is set to be achieved,
in the middle of night an unsolvable riddle , a mystery is solved.
But, for some in the middle of night an obituary note is inscribed on the headstone of their grave.
At bewitching hour for many destiny is jotted down with golden letters,
at bewitching hour for many certain blessings wait to see the light of the day.
at bewitching hour for many something novel and enriching is going to be produced.
But for some unfortunate ones at bewitching hour final decree is scribbled down with black letters and it's made sure that nib of the pen is broken.
Whatever may be in store at wee hours should be accepted without protest,
since the Almighty chooses the priviledged ones to taste the bitter,
 to bear the worst,
 to face the hardships,
to bear the distance, 
 to face the rejection and dejection
 to endure the pain of separation from the dearest ones,
to sail through the sleepless nights with the fortitude not all can boast of.



Comments

  1. How true it is!!
    Beautifully written poem

    ReplyDelete
  2. It is so relatable to me ❤️ such a pure piece of art!

    ReplyDelete
  3. Wow, what a thing madam... As soon as midnight approaches, the picture of people changes... Some memories and history are made and some make history. Very nice creation. Amazing and unique. Salute to you and your writing.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow, what a thing madam... As soon as midnight approaches, the picture of people changes... Some memories and history are made and some make history. Very nice creation. Amazing and unique. Salute to you and your writing.
    सुझाव

    ReplyDelete
  5. Wow, what a thing madam... As soon as midnight approaches, the picture of people changes... Some memories and history are made and some make history. Very nice creation. Amazing and unique. Salute to you and your writing.-----Dr Om Pal Sharma
    सुझाव

    ReplyDelete
  6. Beautifully described of how our perception can be changed by just thinking about things in a different manner

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Do leave your comments

Popular posts from this blog

Working Mom

  The title of this write-up may make no sense and might seem whimsical to some. Yet, I couldn't think of any other, though I did try to run the horses of my mind for hours to replace it with a better one. Anyhow, its content, I hope, is worth reading. This may sound contrary to me,a language teacher who always guided  pupils to choose eye-catching and gripping titles for their work. Yesterday, a phone call from my twenty-one-year-old daughter led to a discussion  about the parents’ rights over children. I, being a mother, feel that a mother—being the carrier of her baby in the womb for nine long months and then bringing the baby into this world with unimaginable pain has rights to advocate. I told her about how difficult it is for a mother to stay away from her children, especially toddlers. I shared with her the hardest choice I had to make when she was just one and a half years old and my elder child was  three. It was one of the toughest years of my marriage....

When Skill Meets Determination:A Salon, A Story and a Salute

Since time immemorial, both men and women have wished, ventured, and craved to look good, better, and sometimes the best. In every nook and corner of the world, whether in a bustling city, a quiet suburb, or a small village, salons and beauty parlours stand as testimony to this universal desire. With each generation, the dependence on such services has grown, shortcuts have become acceptable, and professional grooming has turned into a necessity rather than a luxury. This observation isn’t a conclusion drawn from research; it is born from personal experience with my twenty-one-year-old daughter. Having recently begun to manage her life independently, she is particular about her appearance and outlook. For the past three years, she has been living abroad and returns home every December for a month. During this time, she sweetly wishes to be pampered in every possible way. One such indulgence is getting her hair washed and blow-dried at a salon so that her curtain bangs remai...

Silence

Silence is serene. Silence is solace. In several ways, silence saves the savage soul. Silence is static, strong, like sky-kissing mountains circling a sleepy hill town. Silence is somber when it stems from sadness. Silence strives to sleep over sickening strategies. Silence confers the childlike sleep upon the soulful, while it steals the peace of the soulless. Silence smiles and silences all conjectures. For a few, silence is a sweet remedy; for others, silence is a malady. For some, silence is a question impossible to crack. For others, silence is the answer to every crux. For some, silence is a shield. For others, the sharpest knife, the searing scythe. Most times, aparently silence saves bonds. At times, it breaks them into forms unrecognizable. Silence wears the face of a silent sage, yet stands indisputed as  a symbol of untamed rage. Life screams. Death silences. silence is a voice in itself, raising walls too high for unwanted noise to climb. Silence is a misunderstood path...