The pink on your cheek
Tell me that you are not weak
But may be the cold wind had it beat*
Or, much of roaming* in the heat.
...
My life has changed, people say, and so have I,
Some hate me, while some cast an evil-eye; I was a busy-bee;
I met you, I transformed. You Changed Me!
...
In my thoughts, I go back the old way,
Where I enjoyed, lived, laughed and played.
Childhood for me was tension-free and sober.
Those days were diamond, gold. This is copper.
...
I was born on 9 Dec.1975. After my mother's death in 1981 and my father's remarriage, I faced many hardships in life including the obviously disturbed social background. For an academic-average student with a struggle-only life, there was still sunlight. My grandmother aided my study financially. To support myself till my graduation, I had to do odd jobs including being a gatekeeper of a premise. Another odd job was writing poems. Some of my poems, written in Hindi then, have been used in political speeches by stalwarts. Some have been sung as hymns. I joined a school of repute as an assistant teacher. My academic ambitions and pursuits helped me in my professional and financial development. However, what was missing is a goal in life. My reporting heads once, Shri Kiran Patel and Smt. Uma Anavaratham, unknowingly, guided me through many professional tempests and, Nirali, my wife, helped me reach the bank safely. None of them, frowed, fretting, and fumbled. It is their love that has made me what I am today. A flow of inspiration, from the same sources, has led me to join here.)
Colours I See In You
The pink on your cheek
Tell me that you are not weak
But may be the cold wind had it beat*
Or, much of roaming* in the heat.
Your brown iris on the white
Say you are to win every fight
And enjoy the rainbow of joy so light
When your enemies bid you goodnight*.
The blue of your mood
Speak that you are saddened under your hood*
May be a problem remains unsolved*
Or, a feat*, you are yet not involved.
What your face does not show
Is the silver of your wisdom and its glow
The effect of the green-eyed monster's last scream
When you killed it, last night, in your dream.
Despite all physical and mental colour mess*
I like you for your character so very colourless
You do not have tones and shades*
Different for me, the men and the maids.
Relatives always make you happy. Some when they come, some when they go.