Giving Wings To Dreams

Rest assured my love will find you wherever you may be, When you will fumble or feel dearth of words. Even when you may not wish to give voice to your thoughts or screams. My heart would intimate me about all your whims. Rest assured my love will soothe you wherever you may be, When your days will be dark and nights will be dreary, When neither friends' company nor cosy bed would aid, My heart would alert me to reach for you wherever you may be. Rest assured my love will coach you wherever you may be , When you will step on marshy or barren lands, When roads would be tough and rough to hamper your growth, My heart would gear me to be your lamppost.  Rest assured my love will comfort you wherever you may be, Caught in the whirlpools or tornadoes of life , When wind would be too strong for you to handle,  My heart would foretell me to be your windshield.  Rest assured even when this heart would no longer beat , And would not be a part of the world or would no where to be fe...

Month of March, as always brought a back breaking workload to be accomplished. Being a fortunate educator in one of the most famous schools in the city March meant month of home exams, CBSE exams, evaluation of non- board and board exam answersheets. From day break till late at night papers evaluation first of IX Class and then mentally and physically gearing up for taking up the CBSE work kept me and all other teachers occupied. Life on the whole round the clock was about rushing and running from dawn to dusk and even till late. This is the month when all colleagues enjoyed a couple of hours sitting together in their particular staff rooms which was otherwise not possible during the regular classes due to the respective time tables of all. At home also l found that the clock would move a bit too faster. Waking up to the call of my daughter from Ottawa at 6 or 7 in the morning, rushing to the workplace , in the afternoon between 2 to 3 talking for a couple of minutes with my son in Bri...

21 years gone still wound of separation hasn't healed. February 1, 2003- February 1,2024. Papa, if you had to go at all Weren't you supposed to inform  Or those who loved you deserved to be disclosed that that was the time chosen by you to never return back. Papa, if you had to go at all Didn't it ever strike you that who will take your children's call When the clouds of stress and sorrows,  depression and dejection will overcast their skies? Who will be there to wipe their tears and handle their strifes? Papa, if you had to go at all Did you feel or you had made up your mind that your children weren't your liability any longer? Did you make sure that those all who had under your shade hadn't carried an ounce of burden would be able to carry burden of this dismal fantasy called life on their inexperienced shoulders? Papa, if you had to go at all Didn't you feel you needed to chide, to guide, to prepare, to warn, to point, to pat, to say one more time that wa...

How difficult a task it is to be a parent was the question that was constantly knocking at my agitated rather traumatized mind, while helplessly standing second time within eight months at terminal 3 of the Indira Gandhi International Airport, Delhi. I was holding on to the false notion that It was a dream that was going to get evaporated once l would wake up from my slumber. The beads of perspiration were glistening on my forehead trying to as if compete with the tears which were flooding the corners of my eyes as if to drown my very being. I stole a glance towards my life partner to analyze his condition,  to peep into his thought process. He was behaving strong like the Himalayas which stands tall to shield us from enemies that might threaten us. Yet, at times he was unable to control the strong surge of powerful emotions which was trying to weaken him. As is said, whatever is destined will take place and that human hand is too feeble to alter the manuscript penned down by the M...

The tormented soul had been yearning to liberate itself,  From the cruel shackles that were too heavily bound on its delicate feet. The poor soul had the awakening that  liberation needed a pious earning. Of course, that was something terribly lacking. On a distant hill top she knew  resided the piety where there lived otherwise a fragile hope.  The hope was an angel incarnation.  Angel, the incarnation; the soul knew was constantly on guards. Alas! getting even a fleeting glimpse of That soul satiating angel so far wasn't the fortune of the wandering soul. Though it couldn't deny that for a while a few months back she had quenched the thirst of its doleful eyes by savoring the divine angel's sight. All it had wanted was to lock that sight that very instant forever and ever but soul was too earthly and soon realized that for that it needed to be blessed.  Alas! That couldn't be and the beautiful sight was soon misty and finally transformed into a shade of g...

Like the birds that fly and kiss the vast skies, like the fish that swim and caress the deep ocean waters, like the rivers that constantly glide unhindered, uninterrupted and have no dams or barriers to stop their slide. Like the gusts of winds that blow with a velocity chosen as per their own whim, I wish to sail to a land of eternal bliss where tranquility sits on the throne, And it being queen banishes all frights of being picked and pointed, being judged and convicted, being tarnished and tormented, in and around that land, love, peace, harmony and equality is by order proclaimed.  Where soul is its own sole companion, where the walk is with oneself, where destination is one's own deep inner realm. where explorer and explored are one and same. where there is no urge of name and fame, where there is no race for pelf and cash. But that land is difficult to find, Since, life on earth is perpetual voyage through Hades. The promised Land is a myth a mirage which mostly slips through...

A sudden knock from the past has brought back trillions of memories of the bright beautiful days gone by, gone by as if with a blink of an eye. So much was left to be done and undone, So much was left to be said and heard. The time when there were no hurries and no worries,  When mom of two teens was herself a teen. When book of life had only rights, When fights with friends and siblings was the tastiest spice. When examinations were all about texts, and life had no stress. When there were no such terms like what about next. Sun or storm could never harm since shield was our bereaved father's strong arm. Kitchen at that time was rather than being present days' battlefield  was a treasure house as it had no dearth of delicacies cooked by our sweet mom. When there was no fear of fiery looks or strong judgements.  When a simple statement wasn't considered slip of tongue or audacity. When each and every gesture was ignored and never invited biting tongues. When there was no p...

Health , wealth, happiness and eternal bliss is tied on every brother's wrist with a thread of trust. Thread of trust that is more precious and prestine than the costliest gems or jewels. A silent prayer is woven on every brother's wrist to protect him from evil eyes. The bond between sisters and brothers is cemented with the sacred thread of trust. Sweet, bitter and naughty memories of the childhood,  Heated ,loud and strong arguments of the teenage, Fears and phobias, joys and sorrows , secrets and adventures of the youth, Responsibilities and liabilities,ups and downs of the later stages all are shared with the thread of trust. An assurance is credited that far or near the hand with thread of trust is there to wipe sisters' tears. Once every year all relations go in the background and bond between siblings is garlanded with the bright colours of the thread of trust.  From home, city , some other state , distant land or may be from heaven at times a promise is kept to gua...

One fine winter morn a little  bird perched on my window sill. Its sweet twitter was the sweetest sound ever in my vicinity heard. It was more black than the raw coal with a beak as yellow as a mustard field. Its presence was enough to lift the pall of sorrow,  Its chirping was a sure shot  promise of a happy and cheery tomorrow.  The little bird was my guest for just a while as it gave no indication of prolonging Its stay. No nothing whether a cup full of maize, corn or tempting wheat could interrupt its flight. I had no other option  but to honour its right to flight. I wish l could borrow its wings and reach the heaven to greet my long lost father from a distance may be. Since, l knew that was something that wasn't ever supposed to be. The only thing that my heart wished was to pray the little black bird with the yellow beak to sway, Where lives my child and hum its sweet song all along his way. The way on which he will have to tread upon all alone so far awa...

Morning mist will cast its spell  Over the vale, Over the hills, by leisurely descending towards the land, Bringing heaven on earth by its mystic magic wand. As long as it lovingly brushes the mountain tops, As long as it lingers on the heights where fearless kites and eagles soar , mist is a welcome sight. But, it being master of its own will If wishes comes quite down the hills, as if to fondle the low lying grass. It veils the view around, It flimsily blindfolds every eye, that ventures to look from its balcony  towards where  a few days back stood the hope. Hope of being in the view of the long lost dear ones, Whose hearts once beat in a unison. Though separated ages ago they had not stopped beating for their cherished ones. Mighty mist seems reluctant to hear their pray that it should stay majestically high in sky and shouldn't hinder the reverie of the broken hearts by stooping down.