FranKophone

What is with this smile Mamma ?  It follows me everywhere, in good times And in pain. During journeys and at nights I rest. Remember how you read me my Nursery rhymes and the alphabet Mamma ? Remember how you waited for me To arrive from school ? Our banters And the laughter that followed. Look ! My library is bigger now, Almost as large as that of yours. Yet, I long to hear a lullaby from you. Sing to me Mamma ! Just like You did ages ago. Don’t walk away like that Mamma ! See, I am your little girl in tears. You taught me how to fight my battles But weren’t you my shield ? I am you girl, grey and portly, But I still need to hear my lullaby.  

When does a mother feel proud about her child ?  Is it when the baby walks for the first time ?  Or is it when the child calls the mother for the very first time ?  No, it must be when the child runs wildly with glee.  Ever watched a mother caress a baby ? No blemish or mask. A pure emotion that awaits a definition. The very next moment,  The baby leaps out of the mother's reach. Who can contain the  breeze of  childhood and innocence ? The mother watches.  At every birthday, a cake is baked. The guests change, children too. When does a mother feel proud about her child ? Is it when  The child attains adulthood ? Or when the first earning is put in  The mother's hands ? I do not know, but the mother knows.  It is every time the child smiles, every time the child speaks, Every step the child takes, every hurdle the child crosses.  Every time the child runs to her for a missing button, some...

Ever since you flew away, I have been conjuring up your image. In the midst of my thoughts, you light up a smoke and offer it to me. Everything ceases to be right, I palpitate. I am supposed to be lonely as the cloud. You make me forget the sound of fleeting music.  In the background, a portly man laughs. In a puff of drowsy numbness, I catch a glimpse of your sparkling eyes.  What are you, I wonder. How could you, Love was it, then ? Like a waterfall in a desert ? After that brief encounter, you vanished. I looked at you as a figment of imagination.  My body wore the tell-tale signs of time. I believe I saw the best of dark and bright, Or was it the crazy trick of reflection ? One fine evening,you landed at my doorstep. I was old and so were you. Beauty had Served its purpose. My nest was empty.  I had flowers at my feet,you were real.  Sometimes I ponder about you. I should  Have known. You were capable of hurting me.  You w...

L ost in nothingness, I look for unformed words. I nsides bursting, verses still not finding a way. V ictory, defeat, murder - everything seems uninspiring. I n the cauldron of wordlessness, the creator is killed. N umbing nerves collapse, I give up. G oing for a walk might rescue, I assume. W ithering leaves, dry roads, dusty paths - no one cares. I n a flash, a young thing gets trampled. T ruck or a carrier - I know not what. They ask me, " H ave you noted its number ?" A shrug answers it all - "I have been running away from numbers", I scream. P eople disperse, crowds gossip, ambulance arrives at last. " O ne down, millions to go", someone shouts. E vening falls, birds go home and I choose to follow. M aybe I need to check some numbers now.

Caged Bird BY MAYA ANGELOU A free bird leaps on the back of the wind    and floats downstream    till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky. But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and    his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing. The caged bird sings    with a fearful trill    of things unknown    but longed for still    and his tune is heard    on the distant hill    for the caged bird    sings of freedom. The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn and he names the sky his own But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams    his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream    his wings are clipped and his feet are tied  ...

   "The day shall usher in a new era of liberty when a large number of men and women, taking courage from the idea of serving humanity and liberating them from sufferings and distress, decide that there is no alternative before them except devoting their lives for this cause. They will wage a war against their oppressors, tyrants or exploiters, not to become kings, or to gain any reward here or in the next birth or after death in paradise; but to cast off the yoke of slavery, to establish liberty and peace they will tread this perilous, but glorious path."  ~ An extract from “Why I am an Atheist” by Bhagat Singh  This verse from Bhagavat Gita loosely translates as :  "For the upliftment of the good and the virtuous,  For the destruction of evil, For the re-establishment of the natural law, I will come, in every age.” I faintly remember a poem by Rabindranath Tagore which went like : We are God's children, who is the...

Right before my very eyes, A storm gathers every day. Hell breaks loose, vultures feast, Little birds get trapped. I do nothing but walk away. Courage eludes me, fear numbs me. I try to save my skin, Yet the aftermath haunts me, Nags me, reminds me of The blatant display of cowardice. Nests break, hopes shatter. Before they pick themselves up, A new storm gathers.

Last summer I fell in love with you. Even though I never meant to. Those looks I would never forget. To me they mean the world. Hopes and dreams pale from sight, I yearn for you every passing moment. Memories of that insane banter underneath the starlit sky. Singing in those hoarse voices, scaring ourselves. I remember your eyes doing the talking Cutting across all barriers unknown. Promises we never made, pure reckless affection. A silent parting - sans promises, sans words. You are the perfect stranger.

Yun tumse milkar aaj woh puraani baatein yaad aa gaye , Woh wafayein yaad gaye , woh deewane yaad aa gaye. Shayad tumhe bissra diya thha, tumhare shabd yaad aa gaye,  Miley jo thhe kisi mehfil mein kabhi, woh taraane yaad aa gaye. Bhuley nahin jo hum kabhi, woh nazraane aaj yaad aa gaye, Bataye nahin jo kissey kabhi, woh afsaane yaad aa gaye. Dekhe thhe jo khwab kabhi, woh bulandiyaan yaad aa gaye, Ki nahin kabhi shikayat jinse, woh anjaane yaad aa gaye. Gul jo murjhaaye thhe kabhi, woh bahaarein yaad aa gaye, Dil k kisi koney mein sajaaye huye armaan aaj yaad aa gaye. Tumhari woh muskurahat , woh giley shikwe yaad aa gaye, Yun tumse milkar aaj woh beetey zamaane yaad aa gaye.

On mornings like this, When gentle streaks of light Play hide and seek with darkness, I crave to hold you real tight. And never let you go. In a spur, I abandon my hesitation, Cross the space between us. You often take cue  and recoil, Just like my true lovesick man. Slowly our tale begins and then I hear you whisper a name With passion and trepidation. I pause , I listen. It isn’t mine, someone else’s. Fantasy shatters, heartache entails. On waking up, you forget all. I act like I know nothing at all.  Pic Courtesy : Google

No mourning or wails. No flowers or tears. No fancy coffin or pyre. No lovers or foes. No prayers to be said. No reverence please. I am just a corpse – Nothing to give or take, No stories to tell Or  tales to share. A  wish to mingle in the air. To reach I do not know where.   Just  forget me, As if I was never there.

I have loved flowers that fade, Within whose magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents: A honeymoon delight, A joy of love at sight, That ages in an hour My song be like a flower ! I have loved airs that die Before their charm is writ Along a liquid sky Trembling to welcome it. Notes, that with pulse of fire Proclaim the spirit's desire, Then die, and are nowhere My song be like an air ! Die, song, die like a breath, And wither as a bloom ; Fear not a flowery death, Dread not an airy tomb ! Fly with delight, fly hence ! 'Twas thine love's tender sense To feast; now on thy bier Beauty shall shed a tear.

Concealed by dark clouds You keep shining. Bright streaks of light Dazzle me. Enchant me. And keep me waiting.. Waiting for you.

I once had a dream Of happiness and joys Of kisses and toys. One fine morning The bubble vanished Ugly reality rose its head. There lay my dream Smashed, butchered. Slaughtered heinously. I walked over it. Dragged by the moment. Tearing me apart. I gave a fake smile. I had to move on, Inspite of a dead soul .

Imprints of love they are Deep and ruddy. Peeping into my soul - I find it untouched, Unloved.

I cannot remember my mother, only sometime in the midst of my play a tune seems to hover over my playthings, the tune of some song that she used to hum while rocking my cradle. I cannot remember my mother but when in the early autumn morning the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air, the scent of the morning service in the temple comes to me as the scent of my mother. I cannot remember my mother only when from bedroom window I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky, I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face has spread all over the sky. ~Rabindranath Tagore Note : This was one of  the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished. 

The eyes which knew nothing  but love… Are not on me today. The lips that did nothing  but seal to mine.. Are wordless today. The hands that did nothing but caress with passion… Are away today. The heart that did nothing but cherish me… Is stone today. The soul that was  entwined into mine… Is in a different world today.

Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep. I am in a thousand winds that blow, I am the softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in the graceful rush Of beautiful birds in circling flight, I am the starshine of the night. I am in the flowers that bloom, I am in a quiet room. I am in the birds that sing, I am in each lovely thing. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there. I do not die.   ~ Mary Frye  

I thought they were perfect. Strokes of happiness. Tales of love forever. But I was wrong…. They were half-done When the brush slipped. Never to be picked up again. My artist was gone… I never knew, where. I wish I weren’t An unfinished painting , A toy in the hands of a mortal….

Before you turn away Let me tell you… I smelt those flowers you brought Before putting them in the vase. I noticed the new look in your eyes Long before you knew. I saw the gift that you secretly bought To surprise me…Its not lost…Its with me. I heard you sigh when you thought You had lost me. I was apprehensive…about us… You and I seemed not so right together.. But I was wrong….You are the one. I wish I could speak…. Only to say “Yes, I do.”