A joy ride on mobike...! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Arms around your waist,
And hairflying in the air,
That first joyride on mobike
On Delhi roads sealed our fate.
A lot can happen over coffee,
The best in town you will find,
As we walked hand in hand
Through a plush hotel lobby.
As we sat, you said say yes now,
What, we have just met, I protest.
I know for sure, it’s destined
Please just don’t ask me how.
Love at first sight,
I laughed out loud,
Happens in Mills and Boon,
As we slipped out at night.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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An untold Story of a Pebble
Blissfully, at sunrise, walking
On the white sandy river beach,
I folded my denim jeans,
And bent down to reach
Out for some pebbles
Resplendent in the Sun’s rays,
Below a moss covered rock
In the palest of hues,
Childlike, picture of
Innocence…
Please, I beseech
Let me rest a while,
Am tired of an arduous
Journey…
Did I hear
A silent plea
Or my mind as usual
Was in overdrive…
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Festival of Lights- Deepawali! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
While drawing a multi hued Rangoli,
Tying a string of sacred Marigolds and mango leaves
At my door, to welcome the Goddess of prosperity,
Lakshmi, I pray for a wealth of different kind:
I want compassion and peace of mind
And eyes that don’t pretend to be blind.
Please light my path all the way,
Give me courage to not go astray
From my chosen path today.
As I mindfully walk to light each wick
with awareness striking a match stick,
Dressed in my finery and ethnic
Wear, I bow with reverence at the altar and pray
Seeking blessings of merciful Lord Ganesh,
To help me overcome challenges on my way.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Paradox
One day,
We are all
Going to die.
But we
Choose to deny
It in everyway.
What if you
You are diagnosed
With a deadly illness,
And told
Your days are numbered.
Or if you live,
To bed you will
Be confined.
After you are flooded,
With overwhelming emotions:
Shock, denial, anger
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Alienation
Email, internet, laptop,
MP3, SMS, mobile, IPOD
Are my competition,
For your attention.
Connected to the world,
While I wait to put in a word.
Each person has the world in his room,
While the rest of the house is filled with gloom
Our eyes and ears are on TV monitor
Exchange good nights and close our doors.
Still everyone talks of lack of space,
Bewildered I look at their face.
I wait for you till late in bed
And remember when we together read.
Had long deep conversations,
And shared our aspirations.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Snapshots
Just across the busy road and the crowded cityscape,
Ocean waves playfully froth and undulate, while I gape.
All you have to do is to turn your back to the city,
And captivated, feel filled with serenity…
From the distance hooting, leisurely ships approach,
I walk towards a beckoning rock, shining and smooth.
Sail boats from afar; appear as colourful, tiny dots
My mind’s eye is busy capturing the snapshots.
Tanned fishermen return with the day’s catch and nets
Sun is spreading its amber steaks and aura in the west.
Soon city dwellers flock to the cool sandy beach,
How lucky, it is walking distance and within reach.
Taken by surprise, a huge wave drenches one and all,
Children go on screaming with delight and play ball.
Rejoicing in the company, I watch the distant horizon,
It seems the sky has come down to converse with the ocean…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Playing Make Believe...! ! ! !
Like a child today I play make believe,
And have bought all your favourite things.
Guavas, purple grapes, dark chocolates, I bring
Telling myself, while arranging, not to grieve…
So young, vivacious, funny and vibrant
With infectious zest, prodding everyone to live
Ailing heart, yet forever ready to share and give
Spasmodic breathe… last words to our parents,
Lament not, thank you both for everything…
But now I must go… a soft smile…God awaits.
I need rest, feeling weak, its kind of getting late
Drifted like an autumn leaf, though it was spring.
I look at all the colourful fruits in the crystal bowl
With quivering lips I try my best, sis to hold
Back my tears, for elders have always told
If you cry and mourn, it hurts the soul…
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Gandhi, the brand! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Would you believe- Gandhi world’s reigning brand
Ask pen is mightier than sword, house of Mont Blanc.
Proud to use his name on limited edition luxury pens.
All of 241, just for eleven lakhs something plus tax.
I couldn’t help wonder how Mahatma would react.
He gave me a broad toothless smile and said in fact
Wonder, why they want to dig me now out of oblivion.
Nothing to do with ideology, a gimmick to make millions.
By the way, tell me does anyone use pen these days.
Oh yes, I replied to sign the cheques, have to anyway.
He was quiet and turned his attention to the spinning wheel.
With bated breath, I waited for sometime sitting on my heels.
Man of a few words, I felt he was deep in meditation.
I was waiting patiently for a message to the nation.
Suddenly he waved his hand and winked at me.
Following his finger, I saw three mythical monkeys.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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When Someone Shows you the Path...
At dawn under the cool shade of the tree
Sitting and listening to his loving speech,
My eyes were brimming with tears.
I could sense he was aware and could hear,
The commotion silent cry in my heart.
Felt afraid I’ll break down and fall apart.
He looked directly with compassion at me,
Clueless, mere glance filled me with equanimity.
My intense pain was transformed into joy,
And my spirits were instantly buoyed.
Isn’t that’s how a mother‘s gentle caress
Reassures a baby crying in distress?
Joys and sorrows are like day and night-
Don’t suppress or deny or fight.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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I aspire to be a flower! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Eagerly at dawn set out for brisk walk.
For cheerful angels await me in park.
A nip in breeze after last night’s showers.
Sneeze; unfold my sleeves, to brace for the hour.
Purple flowers are spread on muddy path.
We exchange greetings and smile as I pass.
I avoid puddles, careful, watch my step.
Do they feel pangs of separation from stem?
Passers by ask as I kneel to pick some.
“What do you do with them”? “Float in an urn;
Its hues light up my day and living room.
Each time I pass by and glance, we commune”.
In their silence hear message of Divine.
Frank, open, kind, calm, by no means fragile.
See, what is without is what is within.
Flowers simply teach art of self giving.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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