Missing hills

I miss hills.

 

Hills,

With crisp drifts;

With spick spirits;

 

With livid, living

firs, birds, wilds, griffins,

hid in thick mist.

 

In tip, is rift

stirring with kith-n-kin.

 

This shifting scrim,

this rill singing still.

 

Nigh! Right thing is,

I miss hir diggings,

hir kind.

 

I miss hills!!!

Welfare unto all

Rab Rakha

Through the narrow walkways #writephoto

That narrow earthy patch,
through the heart of hills,
the sidewalk, now rendered barren,
by infinite footsteps
that have passed over it, for eons,
gradually settling into
the shape of a footpath,
suited only for those confident strides,
humbly balanced
on that treacherous stretch,
inviting focus,
awareness and alertness.
A pilgrimage, a journey,
through the winding maze,
like meditatively walking
through the folds of life,
the subconscious contemplations that follow,
so very revealing, so therapeutic.
Through such footpaths,
to the valley yonder,
in the lap of luscious greens,
where the life flows,
at its own pristine rhythm.
Through such walkways,
towards home.

Linking with Sue Vincent's Daily Echo - Thursday Prompt

#walkthroughhills #walkthroughwoods #greenhills #footpath #narrowfootpaths #embraceyourjourney #journeytohome #micropoetry #freeverse #poetry #amwriting  #poetrycommunity #poetrygram #poetrylovers #welfareuntoall #rabrakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Waste to wonder

Last month we had a family get together and we visited this place in New Delhi - The Waste to Wonder Park - a unique theme park. The park features the miniature replicas of iconic seven wonders of the world, created from industrial waste,  auto parts, cycle chains, car engines, truck springs, petrol tanks and what not. From The Taj Mahal to The Colosseum, we relished every single creation... Delhi sun, street food, family... Some memories...my throwback to the visit in 100 words

Crafted from waste,
scrap here, cast-off there,
the metallic replicas
of wondrous monuments, glisten.
Something like,
broken cups remade with gold.
History playing hide and seek
on that sunny Sunday noon.
The curious explorations,
bewildering;
revelations that follow,
mesmerizing.
Happy squeals,
zealous spirits,
awe-inspiring moments.
The structures,
coming alive
with our innocent laughter.
Oh! One perfect world tour.
From waste to wonders
and a walk
through those wonders, wonderful!
Throwback to that tickled time,
spent with tribe.
Throwback to that history class,
attended with friends.
Throwback to lively fragments
of time frame.
Handful of pictures.
Bag full of rich memories.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Buck up

Days come to an end, dreams don't. There's miles to go before we sleep...

Twilight,
wild wings
seek sheltered nook.

Fledglings,
back home,
await their gifts.

Disquieting,
lurking what-ifs
raise their heads.

Unheeding
sunset ahead,
deferred dreams instigate.

Hurrah!
some elbow-grease,
you’re almost there.

Linking with

Flavors of Robert Frost and Langston Hughes in this post

Welfare unto all 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Essence of Diwali

Exuberance in the air, 
that come what may attitude, 
the warmth, cozy vibes of love, 
heavenly perfume of home, 
little lamps light up fresh hopes, 
this, essence of Diwali.

Welfare unto all 
Rab rakha 🤗 

Haven

At the eventide,
that purple twilight hour,
when the day is done,
and the tired birds
return to their haven,
I too retreat.
To my sanctuary, my refuge.
Destination, home.
Synonymous – you.

Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt #126 Haven

Ripples in the wind

Ripples in the wind,
the whispers calling you home, 
to the waiting arms.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly#Haiku #PoetryPrompt #Challenge 

Home-coming

The lush greens,
the darks, the lights, the mediums, the browns,
blending in perfect proportions,
washed,
rather bathed and cleansed with rain,
dancing and swaying merrily
in refreshing cool breeze,
hailing, heralding,
extending that embalming hug.
The glacial bite seeping through pores,
reviving the parched soul.
Thirst quenching.
Oh! It had been a while.
But, what a welcome?
The hills are happy.
The daughter is home.

Linking with Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt #110 Glacial

Come soon

Spick and span,

fragrant with the bloom of your favorite flowers,

the house is ready to greet you, my love.

Come soon!

For the daisies will wilt,

and dust will gather

in the crevices

of that designer wrought iron railing.

And darling! I am growing old now.

The dusting, the watering, the climbing of stairs

have all become once in a daytime things.

Amidst the places to visit and errands to run,

I long to hear you ramble

from the diwan bed in the lobby,

munching the home-cooked culinary delights.

And my arms are aching to hold you. Come soon!

 Linking with Friday Fictioneers 

PHOTO PROMPT COURTESY : ©Ceayr

Kinsmen

Keen ties of kindred,
knitted blood knots that run deep,
kinsfolk and our tribe.

Linking with Blogging from A to Z April Challenge 

Familial-fun

From parents’ laps
to holding di’s hand,
and having fun with cousins,
I brought the entire trivia with me.
While you all were busy packing
my “trousseau”,
I was stuffing my heart
with our shenanigans .
And when it was time to say good bye,
I trusted myself totally to
the power and prayers of
the blood bonds, the “rakhi” bonds,
the friendship bonds,
and crossed the threshold.
One lifetime with you all
is so insufficient.
Distant now, ever in my heart,
I miss you all.
I literally order
the gathering clouds
and whispering winds,
to shower my hugs. Daily.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100-WORD-CHALLENGE- FUN

Monsoon cooking

Familiar fragrances
of the traditional monsoon platter
waft in the air.
The rain washes my grown-up heart,
breathing life
in the pores of my skin and soul.
“Do you know how to cook this?”
I nod in negative.
And there begin my lessons:
A dash of this, a pinch of that.
Some grilling. Some flipping.
Some abracadabra mom special magic.
Recipe, perfect in every way.
As I gorge upon the second helping greedily,
I wonder if I can master it. Ever.
I tell her I’ll need more lessons
but first
I rush out to greet
the fresh bout of rain.

Linking with 100 word challenge : Cook : Thin Spiral Notebook

Growing up

He made me see his presentation.
And boy! I was so amazed
with the use of animations and effects.
Some presentation.
One look at him, one at his project.
My eyes watered.
There was time when he used to sit in my lap
and learn paint.
Today I felt I could learn PowerPoint from him.
Earlier in the day too, he had surprised me.
I had asked him for a glass of water.
Not finding any unused glass in rack,
he washed the used ones.
Four of them. One for each person in the room.
One bottle of water.
Balanced the glasses on the bottle strategically.
And smilingly, he served us all.
My heart swelled with pride.
They do grow up fast.
Don’t they?

Homecoming

Every sundown,
he anxiously watches the dusty lane.
As her rickshaw halts,
he calls out to her, sonorously.
The intervening four flight of stairs,
notwithstanding,
she answers him back,
her exhilaration matching his excitement.
As she ascends,
he gives joyous halloos.
Thoroughly tempted,
he descends the last unlit stairway,
and engulfs her in tight crushing embrace.
The grouchiness of day dissolves
in the warmth of that
tender, lovesome rendezvous.
He literally drags her,
venting himself
until the mother and child
are lost to the privacy of their nest.
Today, I left the staircase well-lit,
lest the nipper trips in dark.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 Words: Grouch

Unripened

Verdant green springs laugh,
in the courtyard of my home,
leaves rustle in breeze.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #116 Home&Leaves

Your voice heals

Ma! Papa!
Ablaze with fever,
like I am being cooked all over.
Yeah! I took the medicine
and made myself,
a light nutritious meal
but it doesn't taste half as good
as the palate you serve,
even with those mysterious
sour home remedies,
tonics and potions,
though bitter but far more effective.
More than that, your voice,
that heals me inside out,
an assurance,
that renews my soul and spirit.
And the comfort of
laying my head in your lap
listening to melodious chanting,
prayers to ward off all evils.
And of course,
falling asleep in your arms,
knowing that all will be
miraculously mended,
cured and made whole.
But there are miles that separate us
and for the time being,
I have to make do with your phone call
and knowledge that
I am in your prayers.
Ah! If only I were home
in your lap,
your hands stroking my forehead,
your soothing voice lulling me to sleep.
If only, I were not burning with fever ...

Linking with Five Minute Friday : Heal

Visit by ma

I was at page 214
when I succumbed to slumbers.
For the umpteenth time.
Unknowingly. Automatically.
The edges of my spectacles
digging painfully under my eyes.
Wincing, I woke up.
Bright white light overhead,
an open book beneath.
Ma used to visit my bedroom silently,
closing my books,
removing my glasses,
turning off the lights
and running her hands through my hair.
Then, I left home.
To make something of my life.
While 14 years later,
I am not sure if I succeeded,
I definitely miss those silent visits.
Grudgingly, I let sleep over power me.
Emotions, however, can wait.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: emotion

Caprine jam

Gaddis are on move,
for food and fodder and life.
Large flocks of sheep
and some goats,
the wherewithal of this nomadic cult,
block the highway oftentimes,
that treacherous mountain road
with its serpentine circuits,
steep falloffs and dizzying heights.
The slow but sure-footed bleating caprines
making their way through hairpin turns and narrow hilly lanes.
A sight to behold in itself.
There is a beautiful melancholy in their move,
a harmony, a congruence of elements,
a comfort in this roadblock.
A couple of blind lefts and rights,
and I will be home.
Home, that I carry in my heart.

Linking with Friday Fictioneers

On silent streets

A stuffy airless June night,

nothing resonates outside,

no leaf ruffles, no crickets chirp.

Some dreams are being woven

comfortably on sidewalks,

in soiled vests,

mosquitoes buzzing around

sweat-stained faces,

hands and feet calloused

and hearts cauterized

with labors of the day;

while we perspire,

beneath the shade and comfort.

And when the weather will shift,

cold winds will shuffle the leaves,

freezing the veins,

and nibbling the fingers and toes,

these dreams will weather that too,

unflinchingly;

while our coats will numb us to our souls.

On silent streets,

some dreams find happy homes in hearts,

while we wander.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 words: Weather

Linking with FRIDAY FICTION with RONOVAN WRITES Prompt Challenge #28-A Dream.

Farewell

My mother is packing my bag,

because I am too lazy to do it myself,

and because I stack things in a horrifying manner,

and also because deep down she knows,

I am being dramatic;

That my postponing this exercise

will not change the fact

that I have to leave tonight.

My father is hovering around

hiding a green apple or two,

or maybe mandarins this time,

between the folds of my clothes,

our protests notwithstanding,

And I am staring at the

fluttering list of holidays.

All my bags packed,

I leave an important part of me behind – my heart.

Linking  with : Thin Spiral Notebook: 100 Word Challenge: List