Let us burn a lamp of knowledge
for those who are egoist and small,
Small neither in age nor in wage,
But potted & brittle clays those,
who are miles away from the God.
The God who is omnipresent & omniscient,
but, innocent like a nascent child,
In the divinely stretched and limitless sky,
Like an aloof but flying & singing kite.
We are most often fools,
But he is always wise,
He lives close to us
But, unseen and unrealized.
Away from the God, I mean those
who are confined to self & supercilious in this zoo.
The zoo not only of birds and animals
But which comprises all i.e.he, she, me & you.
Let us,
Share our cognizance with them also,
if not the whole then, just a little mole,
As it may facilitate them in achieving MOKSHA( salvation from physical existence)
a long cherised life- goal.
Methinks, then,
It would be the beginning of a new era,
All around people blissful & stout,
The whole world whirling in mirth,
and nothing to be worried about.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 1:22 PM UTC
Meticulously dressed
in an
expensive, modish suit,
Swaggering opulence & lacerated talk,
Small-hearted, sagacious,
evil-minded and
having sinister design,
I am
pretty sure
He is
a zippy,
Zombie,
Educated and
Diplomatic URBANITE.
BETTER
to be a rustic, uneducated fool,
in whose heart always
Simplicity, naivety and magnanimity rule.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 12:00 PM UTC
I don't visit
any Temple or Church
or any other
place of worship,
My mother is alive
and
She stays at home.
Under her sacred feet
Floats heaven and reside my God.
Why to be an idiot?
Leaving palatial mansion in search for a far away shanty,
When seeds of eternal love & bliss
sprout here in plenty.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
You can
Never
Win over
Me,
I'm
Never
In fight.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 7:40 AM UTC
A destitute, half-clad barefoot, sickly, bony & starving child,
distended visible chest-ribs, sunken eyes and drenched belly.
With folded hands in deep faith,
Sitting on threshold of a temple,
in freezing December winter dark night.
For last 5 days he has eaten nothing,
He is badly waiting for miracle to happen,
His mother is in hospital,
suffering from last stage cancer.
Doc says she has only 6 days life.
Today is the last night.
I doubt any miracle to happen.
I know these seldom happen,
Science rules and besides, Doc doesn't tell a lie.
But novice child does not know science,
He has indomitable faith in some miracle to happen
which will ****** his mother's life from clutches of death.
Fateful 6th day arrives,
Doctor is sure,
elderly mother is no more.
To convince his little brain is an arduous task,
Badly shaken I have no word to say,
If miracles do happen, I know,
India needs millions of them everyday.
Thy ways are inscrutable.
Should the innocent child be smug with your name and cling on?
Or
Discard all faith, take the life as it is and just move on?
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
Wafting in the air the resonant sound and words
Of hatred, cuss, jealousy & taunt.
Language of deep silence is esoteric, I love
Gibberish, arid & acerbic talks, everywhere haunt.
Loquacity is shallow, I loathe
Silence is deep and pure gold,
Words touch only eardrums & mind,
Silence bestow character a spiritual mould.
Silence has echoing & loud sound
I practise daily as life-goal,
Travelling through the heart it creeps slowly,
Deep and straight into the soul.
The words are hollow promises
and misaligned perception,
Silence is cosmic and real,
Physical world is just a hallucination.
Our words, images, screams & eulogies
All are superflous, futile & bovine,
Deep silence- a path to God
It nurtures nature and is purely divine.
I feel it everywhere in the air,
In swift winds and deadly storms,
In engulfing volcanos & devastating floods,
Feel it in my breath & blood flowing through the veins,
In wide highways and in narrow lanes.
It sinks in deep drenches and vast sea,
Hugs high plateaus & mammoth imposing mountains,
Mingles with rays of bright sun and coolness of flirting moon.
Words can be abrasive,
If misinterpreted, can be source of strife & division,
Deep silence abounds in love and peace,
Being holy & celestial, it leads to unison.
Aug 7, 2016
Aug 7, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
Forced to act on the stage of life
so humble, feeble & half-clad.
Daily swapping of dreams for a few coins,
He is shunned, lonely, starving and sad.
No rhymes, no stories
No pen or pencils,
No book, no papers
No colours or stencils.
No playground, no park
No friends to talk,
No love, no kisses
Only a lonely walk.
Compelled to sell both body & soul,
Toiling hard, he does his best,
Story of hard work, wounds and pain,
No joy, no fun and no time to rest.
The present is all gloomy & dull,
lacking colours, excitement and vim,
Shattered hopes with no dreams,
The future is touching, dreary & dim.
With deep anguish, I weep and yell
cuss myself for his ill-fate,
Losing all hope, I wish to revolt,
I need to speed up before it is too late.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
Frequent meetings and seminars-So many,
Often the days stressful & hectic,
Bunkum & lengthy talks of higher authorities,
full of diplomacy & shallow at the core,
Job sometimes seemed a burden and
such a suffocating bore.
But, now I miss those days.
for I smelt the flowers of friendship, respect and unfathomed emotions,
Divine fragrances I hold close to my heart,
Even when we all are now miles apart.
I miss----
Old ***** chairs, tables and benches
But thronged by pretty & gorgeous wenches,
Their lovely, mesmerizing, broad smiles
with piercing, alluring & hypnotising glances.
I miss--
The wits and wisdom of all
wafting through the chilly air,
friendly souls & faithful buddies,
like a joint family-all did take care.
I miss--
for what a joy it was
learning, teaching, guiding & helping,
Listening to songs, making repartees and cracking some funny & clean jokes.
Where silence weighed more than the spoken words,
We all sailed through the same boat,
When someone's absence pinched but,
welcome presence meant a lot.
Alas: this golden time is over, forever
We can never embrace again.
But, it is entrenched in my memories -so sweet and full of mirth,
Sure these will stay with my soul
till atleast my next birth.
Sometimes with smile & sometimes with tears,
My memories will take roots & grow throughout the years.
The world can beguile and relations can turn fake,
But my memories are my true buddies
for these shall stay till I am alive and awake.
Oh Lord,
Let the brightness of sun to vanish
and the moon too lose its shine,
Even you can take away my breath---I won't mind much,
But till I am alive, please let my memories ripen and my true friends be in my touch.
Mukesh Kataria
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
On a busy roundabout in buzzing Delhi,
Fake wealth smirks & luxury car creeps,
When red light stops,
Fast panting life gets a pause,
Dullness riding on killing air,
Only gloating eyes and putrid thoughts.
Nearby, my eyes halt on a poor, destitute girl,
Sure, I know, not of sweet sixteen
Few heart throb with love and care,
Though number of passers- by is umpteen.
Her ugly eyes embedded in chronic pain,
Gloom abiding on her wrinkled face.
She is ugly, bony & sickly
Tear- ***** flecking ***** cheeks.
Foul smelling with flowing nose,
******** dressed with ragged clothes,
Callous cool breeze shivering her emaciated soul,
No brotherly hand for her rescue & no divine aid to her console.
Delhi engrossed in sensuous talks of love, *** movies and romance,
No one cares for her real plight,
Why charity and pity in independent India?
Methinks, a graceful life is her genuine right.
When she stretches her wounded hands,
Begging for a loaf of bread,
I cry & weep deep inside,
Losing hope, I feel so SAD.
I wish swapping of my destiny with hers,
Can u please tell?
Am I a bit out of senses or if I have gone totally MAD?
Mukesh Kataria
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
I visualise seeds of pure thoughts taking roots everywhere
*** and age never does matter
Plants of noble deeds spring around
Sweeter the fruits & I feel better.
Stainless character & right aspiration does flourish,
Hearts be heavenly mansions
of peace & joy
Goals & values be high and firm,
Body of ageless steel and no soul to be frail & coy.
All of us be master gardener of our soul,
weeding out all the ******* & wrongs
Flowers & fruits grow of our right desire,
No sorrow, no pain but only gladdening songs.
Mukesh Kataria
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC