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Vineeta rai Apr 2019
Ek ldki apne pure jeevan Me kya kya sehti hai ish kavita ke madhyam se batana cahti hu....

Waise to Laxmi, durga, saraswati kaha jata hai ladkiyo ko..
To kyu uske janm par mara jata hai ush masum ko....
Ladka hai to hamara chirag hamara vans aur ladki hai to sir ka bojh...
Jara yaad kro aise soch walo ladki na rahe to kahan se laao tum apna vans apna chirag...
Jo tmhe har khusiya De uski jra izzat ni krte....
Samjhte pair ki jutti **...
Are suno bewakufo...
Bina aurat aage ni badh sakte **....

Ladki ka to pura jeevan hi aisa hota hai... Ladki kabhi apna nahi soch sakti suru se maa baap Ka kaha manana aur fhir pati aur saas sasur ka... Apni khusiyo se jada pariwar ka sochna khud ki khwahiso ka Gala ghot sabki baat Manana....girls don't have life of there own... Chaliy aage dekhte hai.... Jb ldki ki saadi ** jati hai...

Ladki ko to suru se paraya dhan samjha jata hai....
Kyuki ushe vida hokr dusre ka ghar swarana hota hai...
Apni maa ka anchal chod...
Kai nae rista nibhana hota hai...
Kisi ki bahu kisi ki biwi kisi ki cachi 1000 riste bn jate hai...
Un sbko pyar se nibhana hota hai...
Ladki ka to naam hi tyag hai...
Kyuki suru se usne apni khusiyo ko tyagna sikha hai...
Kabhi maa baap ke majburi ke karan..
Kabhi society ke karan...
Aur fhir apne maa baap ko chod sasural jana hota hai...

Jara puchna cahti hu un ldko se... Kya tum apne maa ka saya chod reh skte **... Nahi na... To socho ek ldki kaise rehti hogi.... Wo tumhare liy apna har kuch chod skti hai... To kya tumhara farz ni ki uske khusiyo ka khyal rkho... Itna hi to ek ldki mangti hai.. Aur afsos tum log ushe wo bhi Ni de skte... Ldke bus apni jimmedari saupte hai apne faisle thopte hai... Ldki ke saadi ke baad to ushe apne mayke tk jane ka haq ni hota jbtk pati raazi na **... Kya ldki ki koi life hi  nahi...
Hum niyam to nahi badal sakte par itna to kar sakte hai na ki uske khusiyo ka bhi dhyan rakh ske...Kabhi socha hai ek ldki ke andar kitna kuch chlta hai par itne risto Me wo bandh kar kuch nahi keh pati.... Jara samjho ushe jo tumhe ache se samjh jati hai...
Tum kya khate **... Kya pasand hai... Kya kaam kb krte **... Tumhare kapde se lekar jutte tk har cheez ka khyal rkhti hai... Aur tum uska bhi khyal nahi rakh Pate...

Waqt chlta hai ldki maa banti hai....
9 mahine kya kuch seh ke ek bache ko janam deti hai....
Ush 9 mahine wo kis daur se gujarti hai wo wahi janti hai...
Sb kuch Sehti hai par chu tk ki aawaz nahi nikalti...
Aur ladki ka dard koi samjh ni pata...
Ek bache ko achi parwaris deti hai ushe Bada karti hai...
Ek ladki ki puri lyf ek battle field se kam nahi hoti...
Ladki janam se maut tak bahut kuch jhelti hai...
To apka bhi farz banta hai ushe samjhna....
Uski khusiyo ka khyal rkhna...
Ajj jada nahi ek baar Akele baith kr socha what a Girl do for uhh...
As a mother, sister, wife even ur girlfriend...just think ND try to understand her....
Ek khusi ushe bhi dekr dekhiy... Sach Me ldki ishse jada kuch nahi cahti...

Last Me itna hi kahungi...ladki dusro ke liy jeete jeete apna antim saans leti hai....
Pls I request to all boys and men.... Stop to hurt ur wife sister mother or gf just respect what they do for you.... And app bhi kuch krna sikho... Unke liy...

Let’s beautify our yards and homes
With the vibrant colours of Rangoli
And  welcome the Goddess Laxmi

Let’s decorate our doors and windows with festoons of marigold flowers and mango leaves,
to ward off the evil and sprinkle positivity

Let’s brighten the evening sky
With sky lamps and fairy lights
May the earthen lamps be lit
To illuminate every corner bright

Let’s celebrate
The Festival of Lights,
Diwali
With friends and family
And bring cheer to our lives


Happy Diwali to all !!
7-11-18
Henna Nair Jun 2013
Helpful.
Holding Hands.
Chatting over email.
Have a lot of fun.
Always there for each other.
Go getting manicures with each other.
Playing soccer and kickball with my friends.
We got to the movies,mall,and restaurants together.
Bella, Jenna, Darla, Saanvi, Rebecca,
Caitlin, Isabella, Thalia, Laxmi, Sophia.
murari sinha Sep 2010
1.
when the morning sets in
with the sun rising in the east
i put on the dress of a beggar
extended up to the horizon
and the canto of my begging starts

i beg
beside the big-bazar
beside the fly-over
beside the college-campus
beside the cow-market

you then put your elbow
on the body of the day
giving a perfect and unbiased pose
to attached to the album of life

people of the working-class
spread hither and thither
to write some more decimal fraction
on the notebook of life

2.
in the dusts and soil of rural-bengal  
in the testament written by the grass
i am a son of the immortal

my begging-bowl is the most
favourite go-ahead of a alone man

then speaking around are
the chop singara aluposta

and the love-story of a hyacinth  
blooming in the pond
blind by mud

also in the overflowed dustbin of the city
waiting rightly with an erected head  
the excitement of your absence

3.
coming to this canto of begging
do you know
i  enjoy both
your intensity and your sharpness

your secret current flows me to the pore of the skin
of the body of the puller of a hand-barrow
your cold attracts me
towards the syllabus of waning moonlight  

i do realise now that the stale afternoons
saved in my pocket
stitched so many new muscles
with my vocal chord

and i’m howling in joy…

4.
what’s an enjoyment… hahaha…day after day
spending too much chaos
and living to so little extent
tell me is it the least

within the left-over on the leaf-plates
after eating by the baboos
i can discover more and more
love

the mango tree the grass-hopper my begging-bowl
and from the tune of the laxmi-panchali
coming from the middle-class houses
listen, how flourishing is my mother-tongue  

5.
all long the day i beg

i beg rice pulses oil salt
royal blood

in exchange i also distribute
peace… peace… and peace…

and the horses of the gypsies making
a dip-swimming in the peace-water

in the canto of my begging
holding a whole body of love
i learn how to be burnt
by the shadow of the trees  

i give up all my courage
to book a room in your youth
only for me

6.
going upstairs on the railway foot-bridge
i see the strong light of neon-lamps

the girl from the avtar of the flex
induced trance

the aroma of chhatim-flower in the air
and the song of a blind-beggar
with tambourine

those neon-light flex-women
beggar’s-song and flower odour
i see they are all alive
in the canto of my begging

under the evening-star

7.
in the canto of my begging
at the day’s end
the moon that rises behind the rain-tree

i put up in her hands
the lemon-leaves the water-balloons the goal-kicks
that i have had throughout the day
by begging

and i beg from her the magic-wand
by the touch of which the date-palm
that was someday burnt by a thunder-bolt
in front of the church
looks very infatuating

and my dress as a beggar gradually
becomes a royal-dress
Raj Arumugam Aug 2011
You want me to talk, Sir?
I’d relax and you can paint better, Sir?
Maybe, Sir…maybe, but what shall I say, Sir?
For I am not used to talking
to important people like you, Sir…
Why do you laugh, Sir?
It is true, I’m just a girl from the village, Sir
attending to Laxmi and Ganga –
those are our family cows, Sir;
and I milk them; and my father
and I bring the milk to the market
and to neighbors who can afford to pay for them…
We don’t carry them in these fancy pots Sir,
you make me pose with
but just earthen jars, Sir…
But this morning, Sir, my father said to me:
Come, Mina – you shall pose for a famous artist;
India has never seen such an artist
and he shall pay well
and perhaps with that I shall buy a third cow;
three neighbors owe us money
and will never return them in this life;
and the old woman in the sixth house has died
owing us money for these last four years…
You just have to stand there
before the artist in your cleanest sari
and use borrowed milk pots…

And that is what my father said, Sir…
I normally don’t dress in such clean clothes, Sir;
the saris I have are saris my mum used
but she died when I was little, Sir…
Sir? You want me to keep talking…but I am boring, Sir
and I talk simple words and I am sure you’ve heard…
Oh Sir, I’m more used to talking to cows
than important men, Sir…
All right Sir, I will tell you…I will tell you…
I do have dreams, Sir
and it is just the dream of all the
girls in my village:
I’d like new saris and jewels
and I’d like to be married
before the year ends;
Arun from the next village
always looks at me
in our town fairs
and Oh, would that he’d marry me
and we’d have a home and a farm and cows
and we’d have children
and we’d live our quiet lives
in our secluded village…
Sir, that is my dream…I have nothing more to say, Sir…
I hope you are done…
Or maybe you should talk, Sir…
Poem based on painting: The Milkmaid (1904) by Ravi Varma
It's Diwali Tonight Festival of Lights
Celebratory Mood Festive Food
Gifts and Treats, Sharing a Delight

The House Well  Lit
Decorated in Bridal Colours

The Courtyard and Front Door
Decorated is the Floor
In Colourful
Rangoli
Designs and Patterns  

The Porch Lit Bright
With Earthen and Sky Lamps
And Decorative Lights

Welcoming The Goddess 'Laxmi'
For Good Luck , Wealth and Prosperity

Fineries Adorned
The Family comes together in the evening
Reverently Offering Prayers
Following the Rituals .

Friends come visiting
Sharing the Love Warmth and Light
Mithai and more Mithai
Calories not bothered About
Once in a year it's a Delight

Children burst Crackers
And Light  up Sparklers
The Night Sky lights up Bright
Yes it's the Festival of Lights
Spreading Happiness and Cheer
The Light within Burns Bright
Mithai -Sweets
Rangoli- Powdered colours used for drawing designs on the floor.
flower petals are also used to make Rangoli  designs

Happy Diwali my dear friends
Benzene  Nov 2021
🕯🕯🕯
Benzene Nov 2021
A very Happy DIWALI
To
All of you
And
Your family.
May godess laxmi
And
Lord ganesha
Bless
You with
Good health
And
Good fortune.
Raj Arumugam Feb 2011
You can call me Po-dae
if you’re Korean…
hic! – you got every right to mispronounce it if you aren’t;
and the Japanese might call me – hic! –
Hotei…hic! hic!
And of course those ancient Indians
in their radiant romantic way might call me Laxmi
(but then they’re too reverent, those Indians
and you can’t joke about any these days)
but me – hic! hic! – hey call me Po-dae
and yes, the more erudite of you might know
or the Indians out here would have guessed by association –
HIC! HIC!
yep- I’m the good god of fortune, ancient drunkard!
(That guy who wrote “The Richest Man in Babylon”
he asks you to court the Goddess of Fortune –
Silly ******! He doesn’t know Goddesses don’t drink, does he?
Ah, well modern *** Goddesses might smoke and drink,
and all that)  -
but hey, I’m Po-dae - HIC ! HIC! – fill up that cup and invite me in
and I’ll give  five or six tips to fatten your wallets
better than the ones that American God
George S. Clason throws at you
(Pay Yourself  First, and all that miserly pedestrian living)
But fill my cup, dear – and I’ll show you how to fill your wallet –
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Oh **, **, ** yum – where do you get this stuff…?
These modern drinks really drive me crazy, baby!
Hey, hey, hey –
I’m Po-dae
and for watering me, baby
I’ll tell you the dao of fortune:
I come drunk
and I never move straight
and I walk side and side
Oh baby, I’m Po-dae
your miserly elusive fortune!
HIC! HIC! HIC!
Prrrrrrttttt…..!
Sorry about that, guys –
once in a while I also make wind!
Hic! Hic! Hic!
poem on a painting of Po-dae by Kim-Myong Kuk
Aradhana Singh Dec 2017
She rose from a lady, strong and healthy,
Little did she know for her family she was wealthy,
Being born in India, she was regarded as Goddess Laxmi.
Yes, she is a woman.

With her lips curved in smile, with a twinkle in her eyes,
Strong in herself, in strong bonds her family she tied,
And inherently waved all the darkness sweet goodbyes.
Yes, she is a woman.

She knew how to balance phases of life,
Daughter it is or whether it is wife,
Protected her knowns from wounds of knife,
Shielded from the worldly sins and strife.
Yes, she is a woman.

From the dawn of her education, to the epilogue of her big day,
She takes cares that it's the least that her family has to pay,
Amid responsibilities and desires, she is exuberant and gay.
Yes, she is a woman.

From planning the wherewithal of household to penny pinching her impulse,
Shielding from contingent darks and dulls,
She will always be there to pull you out of null.
Yes, she is a woman.

Yes, that woman who makes you strong,
Yea, that woman who protects you from all the wrong,
Yes, that woman who was there all along,
Yet her eminence is forgotten and long gone.

Pause,
Ponder on the cause,
Work to make up for the loss,
Yes, it's you who has to make a start,
Heel the damages, aim your dart,
Reward her for her art with all your heart.
Anshika Raj Apr 2020
Handed down through the ages,
Humanity in hearts and reverance for the sages.

This place is more like a heaven on Earth,
Myriad of religions are taken here birth.

Our emperors were too kind to invade any country,
Million of channels telecast it's documentary.

Jai Hind and Satyamev Jayte resides in our heart,
Our sand handles both a motor and a cart.

The holy Ganga flows from the bottom of Himalayas,
So is worshipped for being called a gift like Matthias.

The Himalayan is fit like a crown on our mother's head,
Climatic variations and monsoon rainfall are so evenly spread.

World's economy has an immense eminence of zero,
Invented by Aryabhatta; Ramanujan- the Maths hero.

Bhagat Singh, Laxmi Bai had been an epitome of strength,
Education is vastly spread and immeasurable in length.

Variety of raiment is seen in every state,
Twenty two languages and each with a feel of sedate.

Vendors working daily amidst tumults on roads,
Poetry scribbled by poet as their respectful odes.

Colours of rainbow is reflected here well,
Luscious cuisines grabs heed by the smell.

Geeta, Qur'an, Adi Granth and Bible,
At different hours, they worship their idols.

Vaisakhi, Christmas, Holi and Eid
we stand together as a pillar in every need.

Writings are not only read in books,
But scripted on walls, painting on hooks.

Folk arts, tribal arts, feet beating on rhythm,
Dance forms are many, depicting their vision.

Here, women are treated equal to men,
Delhi and Mumbai got their place in the list of wen.

We treat our guests as the heavenly God,
One can visit here either by plane or brod.

Weddings are held by following every ritual,
Our ways may differ but our hearts are mutual.

With so much of glory do not mistake it as Neverland,
As this Golden bird does not fly but stays on land.
IncholPoem Jan 2019
The  Hindu  wealth  Goddes
'Laxmi'  left  a
youth's   mind,body
and  soul.

He  became
wretched.

Rupees  did  no
   become  Dollar, Pound.

Rice  plate
  did  not  become
Biriyani plate.


River  became
water less.

Reverse  became
  boomerang.


That    one  became
  wretc­hed.


His  future  and  destiny
  became  'wretched'.
HAPPY WOMAN'S DAY

Request I the Lord, on this auspicious Woman's day;

To make her stronger physically n mentally day by day.

May no Radha have to constantly yearn for her Krishna

May no Meera be forced to drink poison physical or emotional.

May she be as strong as Maa Durga n Rani Laxmi(bai)

May she earn to self-sufficient be, like Mata Laxmi.

May she as knowledgeable n artistic be, as Maa Sharda Saraswati.

May the kind Lord bless her with beauty, love n "sanmati".

Most importantly,  may Every Girl, every Lady, happy n safe stay.

Please O Ahura,  accept  my wishes; To Thee I sincerely pray.

Armin Dutia Motashaw

— The End —