A sneak preview...! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
A sneak preview
As winter makes
Its debut…
Eateries launch
Steaming
Soup week.
Hawker sets up shop
Under Asoka tree;
Spice up the noon.
Young couples
Snuggle
Behind shrubs.
Stoles and sweaters;
Colours
Galore.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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In Despair
What is the world coming to?
Though carrying weapons is taboo
Children are happy totting the gun,
Whether to settle scores or just for fun.
When did innocence get lost and things changed?
It some how seems shocking and strange.
Too much T V, films is the reason
Reason elders for this violence and aggression.
Isn’t there lack of communication?
This has had deeper ramifications.
The young yearn for someone to share
Their confusion, but no one has time to spare.
If you are not there when your child needs you,
You will be the last to know what he brews
When he turns to his peers
To share his angst and fears.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Beyond life span! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Tracing features of your face from memory,
Could see time deeply engraved its footprints.
When we met, your luminous deep set eyes
Crinkled as we laughed at most mundane things.
Who can look time in the eye and defy It.?
Does one manage to go unscathed through life?
I remember, just married, you carved desk
From a wooden carton, decorated with white paint.
Not to forget the brass knob and knick knacks.
And mounted it on wall, with my books stacked.
I forgot to say how pampered I felt.
But I rushed to you with both arms outstretched.
You held me, where was there any need for words…
Your stubble and the warmth of cheeks rubbed.
Today as dusk fell, I like, birds smelt rain.
You handed me paper and fountain pen.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Love Rekindled
I fondly remember when I first saw you-
It was at that Restaurant called West View.
Our parents had chosen the venue.
And as I looked over the menu,
You sauntered in much in style
Wearing a disarming smile.
In your clear gaze I saw an honest man,
And knew in a blink it was a divine plan.
In no time we were man and woman.
every moment felt like heaven.
Oh yes, we had our tiffs and fights,
But we made up by the night
In time children came,
Life after was not the same.
Tired when I slipped into the sheets,
You would tenderly message my cold feet.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Voiceless! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Climbed the stairs slowly due to arthritis
Rummaged in the bag for the house keys.
Unlocked the main door, and wearily stepped in
Laughing Buddha seemed to mock and grin…
Kept her stuff, and rushed to the refrigerator.
Took out frozen food along with a bottle of water.
The house was quiet, after the din of work place.
Badly, needed some solitude and her own little space.
Just then she got two messages from her family on mobile.
Hubby- sorry, a client meet, she read with a taste of bile.
Son- ma, last moment decided to go for Oscar winner,
‘Slum Dog Millionaire’, so please don’t wait for dinner.
Was she mad or glad when she threw the TV remote?
She took out her pen and made some notes.
Later, she made a salad and chicken roast
And had it with chilly pepper and garlic toast.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Are We Civilized Anymore?
Last refuge of man,
Home is no longer sacrosanct.
Today children feel unsafe
From those who vouch to protect.
Family and filial bonds,
On the verge of death.
The sense of belonging and bonhomie
Has been replaced by anomie.
Self above everything else,
Even family can be exterminated
For personal goals and success.
So what if it’s an inhuman act.
My heart bleeds,
As with shock and tears I read,
That it's possible a father
Killed his own daughter.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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I Feel Blessed
So many people have touched my life,
With their wisdom and kindness
I recollect in hindsight
With fondness.
My father, who taught me
When the chips are down
Count your blessings,
And don’t lose your perspective.
My mother who suffered a great deal,
And had nerves of steel
Taught me to face every calamity
With forbearance and dignity.
My teachers who showed me my strengths
When I had doubts about myself.
My sister all of twenty,
While taking her last breath
Told my parents not to mourn her death.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Bougainvilleas! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
After summer solstice,
We earnestly pray for rain
In north Indian plains,
Drained after a long unforgiving summer.
Gulp down lemonade
Or a drink made of khus, almonds and melon seeds
Or juice of roasted raw mangoes, sweetened
And spiced with crushed cumin
Black salt and fresh mint leaves.
I glance at the sky
From my balcony
Eyebrows knitted,
And sigh in dismay
As I watch clouds gather
Tease and leave.
I can smell rain in
Some far off hills,
As wind carries
Wet earth’s fragrance.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Jungle retreat A humble tribute to William Wordsworth! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Earth has nothing more fair to show
Than the trees growing row upon row;
Tall, green and majestic; silence speaks.
My weary eyes just rest on those peaks.
The beauty of the gurgling river,
Water so cold, sends a shiver.
Sparkles like a diamond in morn.
And the day slips into a shimmering gown.
The ducks leisurely swim in wetlands.
Some flutter their wings on white sand.
Others playfully tease their mates in tall grass.
I smile as I watch a few furiously paddle fast.
Hiking through the forests of Sal, now steep,
Now low; I feel the quiet oh, so deep, so deep.
Dear God, I feel so blessed for this trip.
For now I know, oft from city need to slip.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Age old issue! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Times were when an auto rickshaw
Drove over my dainty toes
I said ouch, there was a momentary pain;
Shouted and moved to the next lane.
Times were when I could wear stilettos,
And even walk on slippery snow.
When young, you set your limits
Couldn’t care and get away with it.
Now, when my toe gets struck by a chair,
I end up with what they call a mild fracture.
Stay in bed, in a cast, hair dishevelled.
As the pain slowly up my spine travels.
One slice of pizza with tomato and cheese
And little bit of fried food with grease,
My belly aches and I long for a shut eye,
But sleep seems to have said good bye.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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