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When I was traveling in the train,
With no strain on my brain,
Only peeping through the window,
To have a look of nature.

The flying birds, the grazing cows,
The race of trees in opposite direction,
The green green fields, the great mountains,
Lovely ponds and walking rivers.

The muddy huts and the children playing,
That was all that I could see,
My soul went somewhere else,
And I was thinking, what is life?

The gift of God, or the curse of devil,
Life is to enjoy or to suffer,
Many answers floated in my mind,
But the journey finished with answers incomplete.

Thereafter, I bombarded this question,
to each and every person I met.
A philosopher told, Life is sorrow,
A Scientist told, it’s an invention.

It’s a game answered the player.
No, it is a play, told the actor.
I went to a sage to get the answer,
Devotion is life, I was told.

Life is an ambition and dream,
Answered rich and cultured youth,
But the other youth not agreed,
Because he believes, it’s struggle.

Life is a chance, said the gambler,
No, its dance of happiness and pain,
Answered the classical dancer,
No, Life is Renovation, told the Archeologist.

Life is knowledge, said the teacher.
Life is thought, said the thinker.
“Life is a matter of self realization”,
It cannot be defined, defined the absent minded professor.

I met a roadside preacher,
That’s poor little creature,
Totally filled with confusion,
Said, ‘Life is an illusion’.

I asked this question to the driver,
Who picks me daily for the school?
He said, Life is like a bus,
Running on the roads of time.

So many answers, all were right,
But all were somewhat incomplete.
So it was difficult to compile,
And get the answer as a whole.

I keep on thinking all the time,
Deriving the answers as solving equations.
At last, I concluded as a whole,
That Life is Hope and Hope is Life.


A School going Child, Simply Exploring What is Life?
She hugs the life out of me,
Not in that second of passion
Before the moment of death
When an animal is chased
And grasped in lioness embrace.

She kisses the life out of me,
Not with mid-day sun lips
Which smoulder dangerously
Like a dampened forest fire
Lying in wait for that first shallow breath.

She loves the life out of me
Not with the garment of childlike innocence
Lasciviously cast aside by a woman in earnest.

And with all the emotion of someone
Glancing up at the station clock
Then turning a magazine page
On a deserted railway platform,
She scares the life out of me
When she says quite simply,
It is time for me to go.
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