Payo ji maine

 Payo ji maine raam rattan dhan payo

Like the pied-crested cuckoo, 

thirsty, parched and dry, 

Thy Meera, 

seeks Thee, 

yearns for Thy name-water, 

the priceless elixir, 

the valuable gemstone. 

The blessed downpour of Thy grace, 

Meera sings Thy name, 

and Thee satiates her longing. 

A treasure to cherish, 

she loses all 

to find Thy richness. 

And thus blest, 

radiant with joy, 

she follows the melody of Thy flute 

and Thee leads her to salvation. 

Mesmerizing, the play of love and devotion. 

The pied-cuckoo is always quenched.

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. 

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

Deep within, our heavens

Lavish skies, heart seeks
that tempting plush plenitude.
Heaven, deep within.

Linking with

Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 184, #SpecificForm

That black cat

Stretched on parapet, 

in sultry summer morning,

inertia, envied. 

Hitchhiking for 

Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 182 #PhotoPrompt

Challenge prompt : Image by Huda Nur from Pixabay

I saw one lazying beneath the frangipani this Friday... Inspiring the micro-poetry in 5-7-5 format. 

Welfare unto all 

Rab rakha 🤗 🤗 🤗 

A dash of hope

Earnest hopes, served raw,
from the dawn’s sacred threshold,
with dash of sunlight.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly#Haiku #Poetry Prompt#Challenge #256 

Roof

The roof.
Just a ceiling on four walls.
Underneath which we breathe.
We love. We laugh. We cry.
This chirpy living, this zest,
converts the brick and mortar
into a heaven called home.
And it is this
symphony of life,
complete in itself,
that pours like elixir
and rattles like raindrops
on the canopy,
underneath which we breathe.
The roof.
First thing in sight at sunrise,
the last one before we drift away in dreams.
Etched to perfection in heart.
Secure semblance to mind.
A yearning retreat for wandering feet.
This all and much more,
beneath the shelter of roof.

Linking with Thin Spiral Notebook : 100 word challenge : roof

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?

The hawker

Between 7:30 to 8:00,
when the dusk blends in night,
I wait for his distinct shrill call,
loud and ringing,
“Vegetables“.
Occasionally, I run out ,
to stop him,
preferably at the turn of the lane,
right beneath the streetlight,
so that I can select the right veggies in emergencies.
I see his hands, rough and soiled,
his old face withered,
his body leaning on his cart,
his legs damaged,
bent by the burdens and travails,
and I suppress a shiver.
As I pay him for my purchase,
I see a faint glint in his eyes.
The exchange over,
He moves away in the dusty dark lane.
As I bolt the gate, I can see his bent silhouette
dragging the cart by his body weight,
his call for vegetables fading.

Courtyard

A lifeless ageing courtyard,
across the fence
that marks the territory
of our dwelling,
was littered with
crisp decaying foliage
until a short while ago.
Today,
after a few rains,
it looked transformed.
The lush abundant greens,
shimmered in sunlight.
Like life,  in all its verdancy,
beauteous and resplendent
and just like life,
the rustling leafage whispers
that there is always a hope.

Spirit

Not the flightless birds
but those airborne daring dreams
buoyant and carefree.

Linking with Ronovan Writes : Dare and dream

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

Impermanence

Shimmering beach sand,
footprints on wave-kissed shorelines,
all recedes with time.

Linking with RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #113 Beach&Time

Court of love

In the court of love,
There can be no status quo,
only blithe spirits.
And still, all heads bow.
The hearts of kings and cowherds,
yield before divine.

Linking with Haiku Horizons: Court

A happy rhyme

Trickling through my quill,
ripe words, scrawl a happy rhyme.
would you love to read?

Linking with Five Minute Friday: Happy

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

Day-begin

Deliberately she wipes the clothesline,
with a dusting cloth,
to remove the specks of dust that might have gathered
on the thin iron wires
drawn taut and tight between three angeled iron holders.
But sitting in my balcony and leafing through case file,
I sense her anxiety.
Her daughter has been standing at the corner of road,
for over 15 minutes now
and that rickety yellow school bus has not picked her up yet.
The girl's school bag is sagging with the weight of curriculum
and shoulders, perhaps with the weight of expectations.
She sneaks another look at her daughter,
her hands pausing for a moment
and then she returns inside,
probably to attend to her laundry,
only to come back in less than a minute
and peep again.
Her visit this time is synchronized
with a screeching halt of Tata Winger.
Her daughter boards the bus,
just as she hangs the first cloth to dry,
grey skirt from her daughter's school uniform.

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

The framework

Some bare and stripped bones,
striking similarities,
till the hollow core
is draped in thin skin stretched taut
and replications are dressed.

Linking with Light and Shade Challenge

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.