(This verse is painted for my Loving Daughter P Suzanna Christy on her 8th birthday)

It was the day she began to move out,
She’d been in the cradle of her mother’s womb
Some seven years before silently in her dreams,
And her dreams! Who knows? But He knows.

Her mother, yea, yet to be a mother then!
Then in her travail, yet rejoicing in God’s Gift,
With her friend and neighbors close by she was wriggling.

Her father, yea, yet to be a father then!
Then in his journey, anxious, yet praying all the way,
None but the Father in Christ is beside him.

She reaches the eighth milestone of life,
How she hath reached is by His Mercy.

I remember the day of entry into the world,
She made a cry within and it was not heard unto us,
We could not know why she had cried within,
But we know for she had prayed within,
And now we’ve learnt that her first cry would be to Him.

Her mother’s friend took her in his arms,
And showered thousand kisses on her tiny forehead,
And it is he always the God-sent providence unto them.

Her mother rose from her anesthetic sleep,
And her every breath, it’s the fact, pronounced THANKS unto HIM.
She longed for her God’s Gift and took her in her arms of love.
I watched her imprinting kisses on the silky cheeks.
Every one wept and there were tears of joy,
I collected those tears in the deep of my heart.

She hath reached the eighth milestone of life:
She flutters as the dancing star in the sky,
Like the tiny trout in the running brook she plays,
Sweet like the ripe apple ‘midst the orchard,
‘cross the horizons of joy and laughter she traverses,
Dressed in the Blessings from Above,
She looks purple with floating frilled skirt,
She wears the smiles of her mother,
Filled with friendly wishes from her school mates,
She walks amidst the song of her little blooms.
I can’t hold her joy she experiences,
And so her mother shares it with her
And too with her for she hath carried my prayer in her womb.

She grows with the Heavenly Grace,
And does proclaim the Glory of Heaven in her life.
Now she’s a little plant to grow more flowers,                
And every flower shall be the message of His Mercy

It was the day of fire crackers,
And they said, it’s ‘Diwali’,
And every one would play with fire,
And dangers too they are aware,
But what for the burst crackers,
It lies in the human understanding,
But God hath no meaning in it.

She was sitting on the step of her house,
And her delight was derived in her close watch
That the crackers burst in glitter but die in ashes.

A ‘rocket’ launched in its flight drifted in its way,
It dived straight into the skinny tummy of the little girl.
She trembled in fright; she screamed in terror,
Her mother in an instant hid the little girl in her arms.
The neighbours around them ran unto her with their helping hand.

Clinical treatment was given, and the physicians said, she’s alright.
Her mother wept that her daughter’s pain had grieved her.
There was a slight dark patch on the soft skin,
And the little girl stood then brave, that the wound shall go.

This verse is written on 23 Sep. 2011 remembering the occasion of my Loving Daughter SUZANNA CHRISTY’S CHRISTENED DAY

It is the day she was christened with a name
Which bears the Rock that’s built on Glory
Whose matchless love being showered each moment on her.
She was brought in the arms of His servants
Whose prayers caressed the infant’s soul
To grow in the Lord with His Wisdom and Mercy.
She was laid in the cradle of prayers and blessings
And a great congregation of friendly stars offered its light,
And the happy blooms fluttered around the infant.
She looked happy and with full of smiles,
And every moment of hers penetrated his heart
That he took paint and brush to draw her enthralling portrait.
He read a poem penned on her, and the little soul smiled in joy.
God’s servants proclaimed her with the name ‘SUZANNA CHRISTY’,
For she hath been God’s Gift answered to their supplication.
The little soul winked its eyes and whispered back ‘THANK YOU, CHRIST.’
He heard the little soul’s voice of joy and they shouted back ‘THANK YOU, LORD.’

(This verse is dedicated to the teachers teaching my loving daughter Suzanna Christy)

Thou are the guiding stars to her in the garden of learning:
Every alphabet she utters is thy endeavor for her,
Thou lift her hand to write and sketch what thou hast learnt,
The circles thou make are the ones she learns about the world,
The lines thou stretch are the ones she draws her experiences,
The squares thou measure are the ones she weighs her knowledge.
Thou hast shown the ladder to soar by steps,
Thy frivolous rebukes may strike her tiny errors,
And she learns from thee how life takes it route on its way.
Thou hast laid a way for her to carry out tasks,
Thou hast trained her to read herself in her own way,
Yet with the way that has its own ethical values,
Thou hast made her walk on her own,
And thy words of law and ethics still ring into her heart.
Thou art gardeners while she grows with fragrance,
And she shines with her fellow-blooms.
Thou are every-shining brooks carrying tiny blooms towards rivers,
And she flutters on her way with wisdom and in joy.
Thou art mother birds feeding their little ones in the nests,
And she imbibes wit and humor.
Thou teach her science, numbers, signs and gestures,
Thou hast made her a living genius to shine with her genii,
And so, let me paint thee in my lays, and it’s my tribute to thee.
And so, my heart rejoices in my daughter’s fragrance with thee.

Wisdom                                                          F­oolishness

begins with Jesus,                                          begins to deny
walks on HIS Footprints till death,              Christ and HIS Eternal Life,
ends in HIM in Joy.                                       ends in agony.

Pleasure plays its game when obeyed the voice of desire,
There sneaks into the chamber of peace a ghost of darkness
Invisible to the eyes of flesh and bones with the wand of evil.
Looking at the world busy with mundane philosophies
Each moment of time exploited to reap corns out of weeds,
There sleep souls stained with lawlessness and unrighteousness.
Each rule of the game dictates the conscience to slip and fall,
And the conscience, buried underneath the coffin of deception
Once kept for sale on the Tree of Knowledge ‘midst the garden.
The souls never wake up, and the conscience looks bargaining with the ghost.
The bargain looks heavier than the product laid for sale.
Countless souls fall in line to buy the coffin of deception,
And there breaks out rupture and chaos in dramatic monologues.
The ghost never speaks of the warranty of the product,
But fills its ghastly den of glittering darkness with the fallen souls.
Time and again there strikes the conscience with the voice of Heaven,
But sin and pleasure hath shrouded the sleeping souls with their wand of deception.
The Word of God keeps knocking the door of the souls,
But the souls run down with the charm of wealth and wine.
The ghost of darkness hath sit on the flesh of the souls.

And there appears the Cross drenched in blood and shame
For HE hath laid the curse on HIMSELF for the fallen souls to breathe again,
And HE longs for their repentance and forgiveness to take them back with HIM.

Oh, My Soul! Where art thou when my body lies in rest
That cares and worries have shrouded it day and night?
Wilt thou guard my corpse close sitting with a rod
That the messenger of death shall take it away?
Or wilt thou sleep close to my corpse and escape cares?
For when my body is at rest I know not what happens unto me
Whether my presence on earth is real or a mystery,
Dreams flash across the horizons and they’re strange and eerie,
Is that thou, my soul, art working in my dreams?
Oh, my soul, tell me, is this rest a rehearsal of death imminent
That I should prepare the way of death to Way of Life?
Ominous dreams lash threats at me, and art thou aware
And pleasant dreams caress me, and art thou aware?
Unravel this mystery unto me, O, my soul!
Every wink of my eye carries each of the day’s cares,
Tell me, O, my soul! Where art thou when my body is at rest?
Art thou not shrouded with attires of fatigue and distress?
I know my eyes shed tears if thou art agonized,
And thou art one in me, yet where art thou when my body is at rest?
I know thou art distressed with my worldly cares and needs,
And I know my body reacts when thou art distressed.
But tell me, O, my soul! Where art thou when my body is at rest
That I shall know how mystery of life works in me.