The Minstrel's Ode

I am a poet for a few moments
Who plunges into the ocean of veracity
He lives and dies in his youth
But hopes his ode is there for eternity

To decorate the dais of this orb
Before me, many a bard have come
Few faded into the dark oblivion
Few created monuments under the sun

They were also a moiety of their times
Today, at least for this moment, I am a part of you
But soon this moment will be an anecdote in history
Someday forever I will bid adieu

To infuse life into your whimsical vivacity
As a new breed of minstrels, they will be born again
For you to smell the gardens of life
Nurtured by their sweat and pain

But these words will be soon erased
From the people’s mind
Buried in a grave of dust , for ever unseen
Along with this poignancy, its existence
As though till now it has been….

The Mahatma Reincarnated

You feel; disillusioned for
Your country that is falsely elated
Without a path or a leader
The leader you wish was
The Mahatma, reincarnated
But can he stop the chaos
Or the mother’s tears
Whose son is in the battlefield
Living in perennial fear.
Can he stop the war?
Against the invisible enemy
Whose only aim is to instill fear
In this time of eternal darkness
Can he be the torchbearer?
Can he stop the people fighting?
In the name of religion, caste or creed
The deaths of the starving farmers
With his hands, can he feed?
Can he guide the wandering minds
Of the nations fatuous youth
Teach them to be kind, resolute
And the essence of truth
Can he stop us, humans
From becoming insane
To be able to see the new light
In our souls the Mahatma has to be born again.

Borrowing from the Beggar

It was another hot afternoon..
With the sun on his shoulders
But Karan was worried about something
That was in his heart
Heavier than boulders.

Today was just like last time
When he was dejected and cursing
To the gods above him, he swore
" Hard work always pays!!! Huh!…"the saying
it was piercing…

"No it does not..!!" he shouted back
with a hint of a tear in his eyes
Again , he has to cheat himself
Make a timid face and tell
A string of lies

How will he face his parents,
Failure was the song of the day..
" Its my fate !" was so consoling.
"Nothing I did wrong.." to himself
he would say

"What if they come to know?" he questioned
the answer , was more terrifying
But to escape that day
Would require another lying….

Like so many times before, today
He would make them believe,
"No, the results arent out yet!!"
He will shout, and to his room
he would leave

With these thoughts in his mind,
He strolled along , his head
Falling down.
The image of his teachers
Will bring on his face a frown..

Then suddenly he saw the beggar,
He saw everyday
No legs, no arms, no tongue
But his grueling eyes, that had
Something to say

Karan tried to not to look at him,
Afraid of him, so to say
"How does he survive?" he thought
Begging , crawling, lying on the pavement
Night and day

He reached home , the time passed by
After being unusually quiet, he
Slipped into his bed that night
But he couldn’t sleep, not a bit,
Because the beggar was in his sight

They would haunt him
No matter how much he tried
Those eyes had something to tell
For a long time..
"But what??" he cried

Then he realized , he was quiet fortunate
God has given him all he could ask
He can stand, he can walk, or even
Run to the glory in which he could bask

The answer was within himself
No reason
To let his head down
"I will be proud of myself, even..
if others think I am a clown!!"

He woke up next day
And spoke the truth
To his surprise his parents didn’t scold
Saying " Failing is no crime!!"
" It indicates you should work harder..
Better luck next time!!"

Karan turned a new leaf
His friends, his teachers wondered for a while
His confidence, his zeal, his spirit
His acceptance of failure
With a silent smile.

He started believing in himself
"One day definitely I will win."
Trying your heart out is a virtue
And losing is no sin

That day came soon, and many
More did follow.
He made more friends than enemies
With days filled with more happiness
And less sorrow

What’s Karan secret,
"Never say die " come what may
That spirit my friend
Was borrowed from the beggar
You can say