"mahatma" poems
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi ka samman kiya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha sabhi logo me ekta hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha atithi ko bhagwan ka darja diya jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha aurato ko devi kaha jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha hindu muslim sikh esai sabhi bhai bhai hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha mata pita ko dharti ke bhagwan mana jata hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha sabhi log desh ke liye marte hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha mahatma gandhi, Bhagat singh, Subash chandra bose jaise beero ne janam liya tha,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jaha par sanchai aur ekta mishal hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain....
Jaha ki nadiya sudha jal deti hain,
Hum us desh ke vashi hain.....
Jise log bharat ya india kahte hain...
JAY HIND
JAY BHARAT
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
The world has always been here to welcome lives on it without any kind of objection..
Take a minute to think about what we are giving to it in return..
Pollution
Deforestation
Contamination
some places have been turned into open sewage..
Are those things what our planet deserves?
Mother earth is suffering,not as we do,but somehow it is suffering..
but wait..
Is it suffering alone?
We human beings,the flora and fauna are all suffering ..
As days go by
the consequences are much severe
but the decision remains in our hands
Together we MUST change the fate of our world,
together we can change our fate..
"Be the change that you wish to see in the world"-Mahatma Gandhi
-Sharvish
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
“The future depends on what you do today.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
Nakakapagod ang mangarap, yung naglalakad habang nananaginip ng gising, para ka lang gago na pabalik-balik, walang simula at walang katapusan. Walang ipinagiba sa mahabang dalampasigan habang sa taas nito ang hindi masukat na kalawakan, oo ganito ang mangarap at umasa ng dilat. Kung bata ka ayos lang na managinip kahit paulit-ulit lalo na kung hindi ka makatulog. Pero hindi kana bata, matanda kana – maanghang na ang utot mo hijo.
Sana ang buhay ay isang pangarap, sana lagi na lang ang tao nangangarap. Subalit ang buhay ay isang banyuhay kung saan ito’y laging nagbabagong hugis at anyo. Kailangan matuto kang humarap at sumabay sa mga pagbabago kahit ang mga ito’y sadyang nakakapanibago. Matanda kana hindi kana bata, ihinto na ang mga panaginip at kumilos ka ng ayon sa tawag ng kasalukuyan. Ang bukas (kung aabutan mo pa ito) ay nakasalalay sa iyong ngayon.
Matuto sa aral at karanasan ng iba pero ‘wag na ‘wag **** susundan ang kanilang anino, gumawa ka ng sarili **** liwanag. Maging pantas ka gamit ang sarili **** panulat, padaluyin mo dito ang laman ng iyong utak. Hindi lahat ng magaling mag-isip ay matalino kaya’t ‘wag **** kalilimutan na gamitin ang laman ng iyong puso. Bigyan mo ng respeto ang iyong sarili, ‘wag kang mangopya dahil hindi ka naman si Tito Sotto.
Ang lupa ay matagal nang sinalaula ng mga mapagmahal kuno sa bayan at ng mga ipokritong nagsasabing maka-diyos daw sila, utang na loob ‘wag ka nang dumagdag pa. Itigil mo na ang pananaginip mo ng gising dahil tanghali na, bumangon kana at gumawa. Gumawa ng mga mabubuti at kapakipakinabang na mga bagay. Mahalin ang sarili at ang kapwa na tulad sa’yong sarili. Iwasan mo ang umangal kung ibig **** maging marangal.
Sinunog at winasak ng mga ulol na tao ang mundo, laganap ang kahirapan, ang kaapihan at naglipana ang mga patay-gutom na walang tunay na kumakalinga at gustong tumulong. Panahon na para bumalikwas ka sa’yong pagkakahimbing, gawin mo ang inaakala **** magaling basta’t hindi ka makakasakit sa damdamin ng iba.
Hindi ka isang propeta pero sige sumigaw ka sa ilang kung kinakailangan, tawirin mo ang mga hangganan at gawin mo kung ano man ang tinitibok ng iyong damdamin. Ngayon ang tamang panahon upang ihasik ang iyong sigasig at mga kaisipan dahil kung hindi ay wala kang aanihin pagdating ng bukas na ‘yong inaasam.
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Mahatma Gandhi
Young visitors in a gallery,
Stood before a portrait of Gandhiji,
Charmed by his toothless smile,
Eyes sparkling through glasses round
And an old watch dangling from his waist,
With his chest bare and a **** cloth
Covering his lean , frail frame.
While they wondered how the good old man
Could shake the mighty British empire
And fight without weapons of destruction,
They were thrilled to behold a vision rare -
The smiling Gandhi emerged from the frame,
Saying that his weapons were invisible,
Yet, they could vanquish the most powerful
Without hatred and shedding no blood!
His loving voice and childlike smile
Combined with an unbending will,
Wielding the power of truth and nonviolence
Could conquer his mighty ruthless foes
And turn them into everloving friends!.
Feeling amazed, the visitors stared
At the Mahatma moving back into the frame;
Begged him to remain and lead them again.
"My countrymen," he said "seem to have forgotten,
" The bloodshed and horror of partition.
"Terrorists and fanatics **** and burn
" And innocent victims feel miserable and forlorn.
"Twice a year, on my 'samaadhi', flowers are strewn,
" While helpless millions struggle and groan.
"In these days of endless greed and senseless crime, "
"Guided missiles and misguided men,
" My words seem to have no relevance,
"Yet, if they listen to their own conscience,
" Give up greed and serve with compassion,
"The India of my dreams will arrive soon."
Sad and surprised, the visitors stared:
Though the figure vanished, his words inspired
And they resolved to follow his noble ways
And strive for the welfare of all mankind.
********* M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India. [email protected]
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
“Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.”
― Mahatma Gandhi
Malaking bahay, maraming pera at katakot-takot na mamahaling mga bagay-bagay. Ito ang pangarap ng marami at pinagsusumikapan ng halos lahat ng taong nabubuhay. Kunsabagay walang masama sa mga ito, ika nga libre lang ang mangarap. Pero hindi lahat ay pinagpala, hindi lahat nagkakamit ng pangakong gantimpala. Kaya nga may mahirap at mayaman. Habang may mga nagpapala sa initan ng kalsada may mga naka-de-kwatro na salaula at mga mapang-upasala sa loob ng aircondition na ‘kwarto.
Masarap maging mayaman, yun bang masagana at hindi kinukulang. Yung kahit anong oras ay ‘pwede kang mag-abroad, o di kaya naman ay kumain sa mga mamahaling restaurants kahit anong oras mo mapag-tripan. Tapos pag summer time na syempre maliligo naman dun sa Boracay. Foam Party sa gabi at katakot’takot na sosyalan sa buong magdamag. Sarap talaga ng buhay ng isang mayaman. Pero anong halaga ng lahat ng mga ito? Madadala mo ba ang laksa-laksang karangyaan na tinipon mo? Diba hindi naman?
Karunungan, ito ang higit na mahalaga – higit pa sa kayamanan. Hindi katalinuhan na nakukuha sa mga aklat at natutunan sa mga mamahaling unibersidad. Ang maunawaan ang katuturan ng buhay mo yan ang importante sa lahat. Ang lubos na maunawaan ang mga hiwaga na nasa pagitan ng pagsilang at ng kamatayan ito ang tunay na kayamanan. Ang umibig at yakapin ang minamahal na parang hindi mo na makikita ang bukas. Katulad ito sa sanlibong sinag ng araw sa iyong puso. Ang makita ang paglaki ng iyong mga anak at makasama sila sa hapag tuwing oras na ng kainan. Ito ang mga tunay na yaman na walang katapat na halaga. Ito ang mga bagay na dapat nating pagsumikapan na makamtan.
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
It must be said
Once again
No matter how you tire
Of sin
And hopelessness
Where God lives
Is love
Understanding
Selflessness and wisdom
The Mahatma
Courage
Achievement
Humility
Without rank
Without ambition
Morality
Merit
Human
Determination
Dignity
Sacrifice
Pain
Patience
Kindness
Principle
Standards
Where oppression exists
There is no God
With power
Comes differences
Rank
Superiority
Predominance
Hierarchy
Religion
Patriotism
Nationalism
Jingoism
Legacy
Birthright
Force
Class
Pride
Privilege
Hypocrisy
Corruption
Humiliation
Indifference
Cruelty
Violence
War
All faiths
Should be considered equal
Before a God of all faiths
Acceptance
On Earth
You cannot **** God
By killing his believer
You cannot **** a believer
And be loved by God
No man or woman
Is subservient
To another
No man or woman
Is held above
Any other
All kneel before the maker
Worship
No man
No victory
No wealth
No fleeting beauty
Honor
Charity
Empathy
Tolerance
Diversity
Culture
Art
Justice
Freedom
Creativity
Fairness
Deference
Humanity
Where do you sit?
At the head of the table
Or at the foot?
What do you wish for?
Riches?
To be respected?
To be feared?
To be loved?
What do they say about you?
Do you know?
Do you care?
Are they fools
To be exploited?
Is life only for your gain?
Can you be trusted?
Can they count on you?
Or do you count on them
For your achievement?
For your glory?
For your power?
For your face to be carved in stone
Above men
And God?
Is that you?
Is that what you want?
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 1:28 PM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Un-Scrupulous Malaise, must you too bleed
Then savour the Sauce which makes your Thoughts sink?
I could bill you for Libel; Or if need
To saddle the Horse called Radar-Stone-Pink
Her Name makes no sense; And purposely so
More than the Watch to her Father she gave
My Thought's own Mystery comes with a blow
That such single comfort would make me brave
Give to Mind Mind's Self; If it does exist
As one Mahatma told me through and through
Placate this Red Farm; Be strong to resist
Your stubborn Barn from which the Wind it blew.
Life would be feathery if you just dance
To this Musical but Simple Romance.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
(This poem is on the earthquake that people in Sikkim,India had faced on 18 September 2011. I was one among them too! P.S- on this very that is my brother's birthday! So i remember it more profoundly....just read on to find out more. Certain words mean the following out here-
MG MARG- MAHATMA GANDHI MARG.{Marg means street.}
LAL BAZAAR-refers to a marketing place in the capital of Sikkim,i.e,Gangtok)
MAAL ROADING-Maal road is generally found in most of the hill stations in India. But in my college, Maal Road has a different and funny meaning.)
DISCO COMMITTEE-refers to the DISCIPLINARY Committee in our college,which takes stringent actions against the guilty.)
18 was the date-
When a bunch of girls had decided
to travel through the city.
But I was the one who wasn't prepared,
As it was raining pretty heavy.
The girls planned to eat,roam and shop about,
through the MG MARG and LAL BAZAAR!
Fortunately for me due to some unavoidable circumstances
the plan got dropped....
And all I could see was girls making unbearable pouts!!
In the evening,
when people go out MAAL ROADING,
I went to the shop with a company
for buying a recharge card as done daily!
Though I bought it,
I somehow forgot to scratch it, I rather kept it inside my bag.
Strolling down the campus
We sat on the football field
Watching the players kicking the ball in glee
With their boots,shorts and tee!
At exactly 6:10 pm, there was a great turbulence,
which caused a whole lot of purturbence!
Yes, that was the 6.9 that shook us!
People running to and fro to save their lives,
some shirtless,some barefooted and some in towels!
With buildings shaking and cracking
there was nothing
but utter horror and shouting!
People seemed like Refugees,
With no phone networks to contact friends,relatives and families!
We were told to sleep with our room doors open.
But how could we when there were still tremors coming?
SHAKE! and people would be out on the streets!
Such a day it was, when Mother Nature had terrorised us!
Still the authorities couldn't help themselves from separating boys and girls!!
If they happen to meet each other,
They would have to face the DISCO COMMITTEE all together!
Huh!! When will you get rid off this mentality?
So that we can live joyous and peacefully!!!
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 2:23 PM UTC
Mahatma gnaws at World War hungers
Reincarnated forms of Wild West lungers
Spatially realigning to a kosher and beloved state
Krishna stands ignored, can’t help feeling irate
Walrus tusks dig into the carpenter’s brow
As an eight armed saint is revealed as a cow
Scriptures packed and rolled, exhaled in suspicion
Prophets praised for violence incurred, act of sedition
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Love was the fragrance of every flower
in this city, of celebrated gardens,
not long before,
Why i sit here, nursing my uneasiness
in this bus with out a destination board,
I don't really know,
all I hope is this:
my belief that it would take me to
it's last stop- love- would not fail,
Once there ,I know,
my redemption would be easier.
I don't see any one bound
to that destination,
not even one whose face i recognize,
night has no language, like a dumb man
i have to be contented with signs,
in this overly lit long, red bus, too sleek
for everyone here to feel happy about,
i feel the shock of change, from every side,
The city is busy shedding its old skins
and its soul, the villager and his words
that spoke of rain, crops of corn and harsh summer,
almost in a poetic vein, is alien now,
they aren't invited here anymore,
sulking, loitering around a bit, they have left, before sun down.
We are racing towards deadlines,
roads everywhere are blocked, broken, changed beyond
recognition, one's own street, needs introduction
work is in progress even at midnight,
new flyovers, elevated roads, sky scrappers
you easily lose count, and crawl through a maze,
all for a make over, to a global city of electronics,
from a sleepy town, embracing villages
to somewhere, the world feels flat, in an illusory grandeur.
Trees died horrible deaths,
a loveless and forlone look takes over, even on young faces
the sparrows, disappear, no one knows where
they have gone, bees and butterflies,
what would be their fate, studies are on.
A lady in the front seat
gets jittery, she is not sure where she goes,
the driver doesn't pay attention,
there is none to reassure,
we are on the move, fast too.
I was looking for Mahatma Gandhi Road, but the signs
are all gone, hope, those would be back pretty soon,
but would love come back?
OOO
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 8:03 AM UTC
Looking at me, you see a pure, young soul.
But look inside me, you sweet summer child.
Inside me are so many people
I am Che Guevara with the lance of poetry
I am Vladimir Lenin with the shield of quick wit
I am Petőfi Sándor with the armor of ambition
I am Mahatma Gandhi with the horse of music
I am Fidel Castro with the arms of an endless mind
I am Spartacus with the flames of unending hope
But I am The Uncharismatic Man with the burdens
The burdens of a tired arm
The burdens of a twisted tongue
The burdens of clipped wings
The burdens of a deaf ear
The burdens of numb thoughts
The burdens of a dying sun
I've risen up and gone down just as quick
My rebellion was for naught this time
I've grown exhausted from the fights
But I'll never put down my arms.
I'll never cease the struggle.
This war never ends.
So fight with me, brother.
Fight yourself, goodfellow.
Defeat the oppression, comrade.
And never give up...
Not until I give you the call to surrender.
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 1:23 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
As its social phenomenality
Grows with zeal and verve
Humanity of love befits
Beautifully Elaborate explanation
To enable both young and the elderly
To have clear and useful
Knowledge and insight
Of what is love;
Shakespeare in the prime
Of his bardness decried it
A foul protégé of individual beholder
Christ confused it for self-immolation
In the succor of the universe
Leo Tolstoy thought that
It was minimal ownership of land
Umberto Eco in his scriptorium
Declared it man’s impaired judgment
Kenyan cubidmaestroes deem it human foully
To create a leeway to keep change of a Casanova
Mahatma Gandhi called it caste blindness
Mandela called it zero apartheid
Both in Luther King sang the song
Of nonviolent revolt
But me I will boldly clash
With the precedent civilizations
To call love foolishness of a man
And shrewdness of a woman
As for both man and woman the very love
In un-fangled in truth that it can’t pay bills.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 8:49 AM UTC
Karen Carpenter, bridged sued cap d'hiver,
(which I hear will be very en vogue this summer)
fringe falling, as gracefully as music flowing through her veins,
(a Pucci jumpsuit, a throwback to times, of rock and roll)
Pinned hair, taped face to secure a wig cap,
(a daily communion bonding her soul to her self)
those Miu Mui boots, leather wrapped sewn to her body
(to which is laying amid candle light gypsy retreat)
A left thigh, glance of the subtly disguised tattoos inscribing her body,
(do we mark our body, to impress others or to claim our own bodies)
silk Chloé gown, gypsy princess of Parisian quarters,
(Jakarta may someday be a resting place for an unsettled soul)
Placing pencil to paper, poetry writes me as lyrics write her,
(do the ivory keys of the Grand Piano fuse inspiration)
piercing red nails, grasping left handed she writes writes writes,
(maybe notes of her future travels dreams aspirations)
A 70's heroine, born to the wrong era standing in the past,
(Yoko Ono Led Zep Stevie Nicks, mahatma's of a lost scene)
innocence purity porcelain ******* torn from a womb too soon,
(not at once a smile, reflective nostalgia unwavering past future)
A fallen tear drop, a hopelessness of peace in her eyes,
(one can see both tattoos of present; ARTPOP, of past; peace symbol)
a fallen angel, legacy leaving her mark on a generation of those lost,
Her left wrist shows a peace sign as a commitment to such peace
Will this ever be a possibility on a planet we call earth?
© Sia Jane
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
Stand up
Stand up for something
Anything
Sing out about the way
You want the world to be
Learn to listen
Learn to look for people
Desperately in need
Learn to love to read
Learn to love
Expand your mind and empathy
Be brave
Stand up and speak
With as much a voice inside
This your precious body
As Jesus, Budda, M.L.K.
Five foot five Mahatma Gandhi
"Be the change you wish to see.."
A world full of people
In much greater need
The things you say
And things you do
Can effect the world
Not just a few
Every person's
A link in the chain
Not thinking you matter
Causes disarray
Everyone has something to say
Especially sensing one's
Prone to feeling pain
If you don't speak up
And make a stand
It won't just go away
Beliefs don't make you better
Behavior makes that change
Speak for the weak
Not next week
Now
Do something
Feel proud
Not for you
But for the good you do
They'll try to shoot you down
Action scares those prone to shunning
Often those who surround
Are rut stuck, change haters
Trying to share their frown
They'll work to make you drown
Those efforts will abound
But anything that's worth the fight
Is not easily found
E.Poe
January 2014
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
A POLICE MAN CAN DO ANYTHING
Why compromised are the police men?
From all over the world, policemen are sellouts,
Policemen arrested Jesus Christ and flogged him,
Others tortured Galileo Galilai for intellectual cross purpose,
Some of them vandalized Martin Luther King, and his wife,
As they also put Fidel Castro on the tilted trial,
The same are the ones that arrested Mahatma Gandhi
In the same tandem of Colonel Afrifa organizing a coup
To effect putsch against Kwameh Nkrumah, or Mandela to Robben gulag,
They tortured Rubia and Matiba in Kenya down the abyss of mental breakdown,
They kicked in the teeth Abdulla Abdalladiff at Kamiti prison
Then they ran off for a decade to effect the ****** of Robert Ouko,
Their evil tendency was never quenched until
They abducted the County parliament speaker
Of Maembe hamlet in the Nyake Kingdom of potato eaters
And held him in the spine chilling captivity for days and days
Only to release him when he sufficed to stay in dumb freedom.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:11 AM UTC
Walking a lonely road, stepping over the dry leaves;
Waiting for the sunset, to leave me alone with my thoughts;
Observing the reality is not simple, but feeling it is even harder;
This always follow a change, when u feel theory in real;
For every stand u took, for every right u did;
For every step you took back, for every voice that was suppressed;
A laughing comment may be the reason, or a smile or a ignorance;
Good’s became good joke, deeds became dramas;
Prophets preach love everyone, reality ends in loving ourselves;
No sorry no thanks, rude a person becomes without acknowledgements;
Follow your heart, stop taking free advices, ironical part we do;
Edison said 'value in disaster, start all over again', how hard it is to do;
Ideal is a word that has no practical example;
Even Mahatma Gandhi was only close to ideal;
Resistor to transistor, ideal behaviour has bookish domains;
And what a irony, even great of greatest are running towards this misconception;
Fooling someone is an upcoming talent;
Your last laugh, was it on a ***** act or someone loss??;
Listening advice is a harder job than firing suggestions;
Selfish is a attribute necessary to adopt;
Opening book on a regular day sometimes become crime;
Everyone pretends to be last day hero;
Hardly one dares to take a stand, for someone unknown, for public benefit;
Forgetting, one could be in same place;
Here conscience becomes a vital part;
Doing what it allows, or changing it accordingly;
Does varying conscience have a value? Choice enters in play;
Choice to be what you should be or what you are accepted to be;
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 9:46 PM UTC
Death only uses violence,
**An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.”
― Mahatma Gandhi**
Standing naked in front of a mirror of truth
Did you gasp for a moment?
Or did you grasp the robe tightly by the string?
Our mirror the body shaming objects
Our brain Positive or negative to the truth:
As we stand in the front of the mirror of truth:
Our eyes become terrible liars
Fat stigma is spreading around the world: everyone is our mirrors
body shaming us into believing that skinnier is healthier:
The three rolls at the side of your body a reminder that those
Thanksgiving mini apple pies was a **** lie too,
Everything in Moderation is only sweet poetic words
**Saints have no moderation, nor do poets, just exuberance.”
― Anne Sexton**
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 8:05 AM UTC
He brought us up with dovish love
He cautioned us to be serpent wise,
He took us to schools each of us
In a genuine dream to forestall future misery
He fed us well from his meagre earnings,
He discriminated not love among the siblings
We grew up united in family bond,
He made us all to walk tall and proud
As sons and daughters of credible father,
He taught me in particular to read Mahatma Gandhi,
He inspired me with love for Napoleon Bonaparte,
He named me Alexander as a nomenclatural ritual
To procure spiritualities of charm and intellect,
He did us good and indeed we must all agree
As evinced in the love he gave to our mother,
We saw no fearful stress of threatening estrangement
As our mother always clang to us with superior enthusiasm.
He only began to feel pain on every swallow,
Saliva, other liquids and solid stuffs he painfully swallowed
He lost and lost weight on each day as we could do nothing,
But his wisdom and sense of humane picked,
Phenomenally usual precursor of impending death,
He got emaciated and weakling, his feeding decimated,
I desperately took him to hospital and surrendered him
To a man wearing humongous glasses on his bearded face,
The community of that place called him a doctor,
He checked my father and came out with a stark tiding;
Young man, your father has throat cancer!
The barium swallows has indicated all these,
There is eminent presence of tumors and carcinoma
Known for their foul perpetration of oesophagus cancer,
I received this dooms day news with mild trepidation,
He was discharged back to his village home
He died two days later in his hut, on his marital bed
The wooden bed with wick-work of strappings and strings
Crafted from stone hard animal hides and skins,
And it was Christmas day of December 2000,
At three in the afternoon, when my father died
Succumbing to death caused by throat cancer.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 2:34 AM UTC
We have never really talked,
But I think I can,
Knowing I am the son of the same soil that anointed you,
And I come from the same city you started it all,
Before I say something I would like to touch your feet,
Pay my respects
I don't know where to start from,
Probably, in school they taught your lessons,
I didn't know back then it was a blessing,
Instead I made fun of you,
disfiguring your picture in the textbook,
Now I think, How could I?
I hope you can forgive me
And you said "hate the sin, not the sinner",
But it was 2nd October and didn't miss your movie,
It feels so nostalgic to me,
My grandfather once saw you,
He used to tell me stories about you,
How a nation was saved,
And the struggles you braved,
They say your thoughts are obsolete,
But not for me,
What you have instilled in me is priceless,
Beyond caste, color and race,
I wish I could tell you face to face,
From shaking the empire to your fasting,
Time in prison to the Salt March,
I wish I could take a part,
Shaking the foundations,
To making us a proud nation,
Bringing to us that moment of Salvation,
From Indigo to salt to cotton,
You fought them,
To millions under starvation,
Making us think from a common man's point of view,
It was you,
From self reliance,
To defiance,
You did it,
And all that without use of force,
I wished you could have stayed longer,
Bless some of the lost souls,
Left some of us on crossroads,
And they say Jesus told us what to do,
You taught us how to do it,
Forgive me, younger me was stupid,
You paved the way for King Jr. and Mandela to aspire,
And many others feel inspired,
But the sad part is that,
Against you they still conspire.
Living free,
Not knowing you did it for us,
How a thin barely clothed man could do wonders,
You taught us to stand for injustice,
You don't need a Nobel Prize, the only true ambassador of peace,
And the loyalists still follow,
Your word is never leaving,
Words are not enough,
But I feel your sorrow,
You made me believe,
Anything is possible
If you stay focused and work for it,
There's so much more to learn,
Nothing but gain knowledge,
And I try to pay homage,
Statues around the world,
Left us true word
The legacy lives on,
No matter how much I say
It will not be enough
Nobody can fill your shoes
Even if they try to,
The world calls you Mahatma, I call you Bapu*
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
My brother Phillip was a smooth operater
I called him. Mahatma Dandy.
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
Made them sigh.
Dandy was always flying off to somewhere.
Charming and disarming. Six feet four.
Smiling like the cat from Cheshire.
But bigger.
Dandy loved all and all loved him
A heart of gold but subject to frosty weather.
Dandy could never seem to get it all together
But. The boy. Had style.
Should have bottled it and sold it.
Easy street.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
This is a tribute to the greats,
The ones who we really rate,
We know we're not all saints,
Like blessed Mr. Mahatma,
Or now Saint Teresa,
This is a tribute to our greats,
Normal heroes we all rate,
Like police and fire brigades,
Who protect us from troubled days,
We rate volunteers and 'the nurse',
Without them, life would be worse,
Folk like them make life a better place,
A tribute to our mere human greats!
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
Every year on 26th January I turn on my TV at 8
To watch our soldiers marching, planes gliding and tanks rolling through India Gate
Watching these soldiers march in their handsome uniforms makes me extremely proud
And on this day we also mourn the losses of people who, for the Nation, wore the shroud
This day, unlike others, isn’t just a holiday for me
It symbolises the day when, from British rule, we finally broke free
The sacrifice and struggle that Indians went through then were huge
In their own country, they couldn’t be a refuge
Jawaharlal Nehru, Mahatma Gandhi, Subhash Chandra Bose were a few who fought for our country and shot to fame
But what about the thousand others who sacrificed their entire lives, but we still don’t know their name!
Do you know why 26th January 1950 was the chosen date?
Because exactly 20 years on the same date the INC proclaimed the Declaration of Independence after winning the debate!
This day celebrates the coming into force of India’s constitution
This is the world’s largest document and respects every institution
But after all these years is India still an independent republic
Or is it a monarch hiding in the skins of general public?
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
One of the disciples of
Swami Vivekanda,
The great Indian sage.
Asked him a question
“ Can we change the world?”
Vivekanda replied ,
“In the absolute sense no
In the relative sense yes”
You may wonder, What is this mess?
And think it may be a fuss.
You can’t root out poverty
But you can help a poor man
You cannot remove all the vice
And make this world very nice
But you can change one’s heart
Through your great art
A squirrel can’t lift a mountain
But can carry a little sand
Mahatma Gandhi, a great pacifist
Once said, “If I want to choose
Between inaction and violence
I choose the latter”
Because any action
is better than inaction
You may not change the world
but you can change your friend
Do something good as little as you can
And great happiness can easily be won
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 4:45 AM UTC