Stories Untold

Many stories lie in the back of my mind
Daring to be expressed in words rude and kind
Unpolished languages that moisten the eye
Fiction and fact from far below to the sky
Stories that these lips just cannot say
Stories from the past that do not decay
Stories that wish to be spoken out
In crisp lines that could be recited aloud
To fall and spread like autumn leaves
To overcome blocks stuck in the throat like beads
Forbidden by voice with a pain captured within
Tears blur the vision; eyes closed - no more is seen
These stories weigh on me to scribble a few lines
A few words that have been unspoken so many times
But the words are captured in my heart like a cage
And another day passes just like another age

That Woman

"Hello", I called out and smiled at you
You looked with disgust, "Do I know you?"
I'm neither well-dressed nor a pretty face
But insult me not with scorn and disgrace.

"You know me, as I've often told you
I am that beggar woman you see across the street
That you pass each day, with no sympathy
That woman struggling daily to make both ends meet.

"You know me, as I've often told you
I am that old lady that was shunned by her only son
Like an inanimate object that would not protest
Still waiting for her inconspicuous son to return.

"You know me, as I've often told you
I am that mother who sold herself every night
In youth, to feed her baby crying in her arms
Hiding him in her aanchal from dust and light.

"You know me, as I've often told you
I am that woman you left at another crossroad
When I was breathing and living and eating
Why do you feed me on my shradha now?

Footnote: Shradha is a ceremonial fire or yajna in India that devout Hindus perform on the death anniversary of their parents for their souls to rest in peace. Among other things, he feeds the fire with food and sweets so that his parents do not suffer from hunger in their afterlife.

This poem is inspired from a small reading of Shree Madh Bhagwat Gita that I happened to attend a few days ago where all the holy shrines are said to rest in the feet of one's parents and by offering service to one's parents, one earns the blessings of all the Gods.


Stairway to Heaven

The mystic’s eyes glistened with gleam
His lips curling in upward stream
To point to the Heavens above
That now lay within his reach
A journey he had sought to beseech
To spread his message of love.

And although he could read the sign
He double checked the beautiful rhyme
Cause a verse can give two meanings
There’s a brightness on his face
That clearly shows his confidence
And the surge of subtle feelings.

And he walks towards the Heavens
Through rough highways and small by-lanes
Spreading his message of love
He sprints, flints, with a calmness so rare
Joined by hundreds and thousands in his dare
To take them directly to Heavens above.

Spreading his word on universal love
The man ascends peacefully with a smile above
His soul no longer bound to earth
But his message lives for men to see
A path he had uncovered in his destiny
To get rid of the cycle of rebirths.