Wednesday, 16 January 2019

The Edge

Those eyes trapped between thick lines of kohl, frigidly stare
But yet glued to the screen.
Those eyes tire with the glare
But are possessed by a power unseen.

A hundred emoticons fast as a pulse
Yet none stir her expression less face,
Nor, was there a moment of impulse
As she typed with a practiced pace.

She did not not notice as a breeze blew her curls,

Nor when the screen blurred her eyes,
She was busy abbreviating her words
Finding solace in a world of lies.

He painted a rosy escape, dragging her to the edge,

The edge of an abyss, an abyss of his love.
His words lifted her, prepared to fledge
Far away from the chaos above.

The breeze failed to stir a single ripple in the abyss

She dreamt of gliding through it
Soaking in its bliss;
For as long as fate would permit.

She waited on that very edge, where she was told to wait

The edge, where her heart beats too fast.
She curls her toe, undaunted by fate 
His love, she knew, would have it recast.

                                                 - Niharika Prasad

Saturday, 2 December 2017

Not In Stone,But In Life

Through the multitude and noise, I hurried up the stairs,
They say in one of the most pious of your claimed abodes.
Swiftly pushing a few, but without interrupting my prayers,
I watch the head priest, the blessed one, as the theory holds.

I almost stumble as I catch my breath, giant lamps glimmer far away,
I rush past pestering beggars,but stopping at a second thought.
Suddenly scared, at remembering what the elders say,
Blessed is he who donates at this holy place,as always I have been taught.

I watch in awe from the indefinite queue, I peep to catch a glimpse of you,
I sigh then continue my chants, repeating a complex hymn.
Words that I could barely pronounce,but ones they claim you well knew.
I pressed my face against golden bars,I was so short and the light so dim.

Hundreds of lamps fed on pure ghee, lighted up my way
Decorated plates with colored powders,all left me amazed.
The men in saffron took it all,piling it all, far from where you lay,
I strained my neck to where my mother pointed,to the God they all praised.

As i neared your shrine, my feet felt uneasily wet,
I saw some pour milk on you,which formed little streams on the muddy floor.
Hungry faces of the poor outside haunted me, I would never forget,
I clutched to a box of sweets, feeling guilty as never before.

I knew you'd tell me the truth, I leaned closer to have a look,
True to my imagination, I saw idols dressed in silk and jewels,
But your face so expression less,while a hefty man,offerings he took,
You did not even notice him,as louder and louder he rang the bells.

Your devotees seemed spellbound, few almost stamped me under their feet,
I called out for your help, but you still stared far ahead.
I dashed the other way, stopping only at the temple street,
Little beads of cold sweat, cooled down my spinning head.

Down the street I saw few kids,one glaring at my box of sweets,
He stared at me a little scared,his eyes met mine.
I stretched out my box, apologizing to gods on golden seats,
His eyes widened with a sparkle; could mortal be divine?

Not in stone,but in life
Not in chants,but in deed
I close my eyes, whenever I find myself in a strife
Image result for meditating
You,a part of indeed.

-Niharika Prasad     


Monday, 24 July 2017

Global warming

Melting ice is a major problem because of its contribution to sea level rise, but it also affects wildlife in all kinds of ways. Polar bears are the poster child for changing conditions in the Arctic. As their frozen hunting grounds melt away, some polar bears — like this one — are turning to cannibalism and eating their own cubs.
Melting ice is a major problem because of its contribution to sea level rise, but it also affects wildlife in all kinds of ways. Polar bears are the poster child for changing conditions in the Arctic. As their frozen hunting grounds melt away, some polar bears — like this one — are turning to cannibalism and eating their own cubs

The price we must pay

I am lost staring at the sky,
like an artist's palette, colors merging and creating new
With wisps of breeze and a bloody dye,
maybe just his leisure, but how patiently he paints you.

The sky hugs my view, bare of concrete it lay,
no neon lights to spoil my view and none to blame.
Stars who thought they could outshine the sun
by fear of ridicule hid, before it came.

Unaware of the whirling storm in my cup
I have been stirring my coffee, absently staring up high
A sugar cube struggled to float up
quickly melted down, despite its fight.

I ignored it and stared at the sky,
away from the city this seemed a delight
These days black clouds would just float by
not like the old days, now nothing seems right.

I pushed away the newspaper, full of pictures of flash floods and woeful plight
and breathed deep in the cool air, far from the raging sun.
A small voice in my head, said something is not right,
Man has been selfish, and all can’t be undone.

Soon I will be traveling between air conditioned buildings
engulfed by the hum of modern machinery and device
Soon I will be away from the birds and the springs
All men have sinned, and all must pay the price.

                                                                                                    - Niharika Prasad

Saturday, 29 April 2017

One day..

I sat in front of my desk, staring at the pile of books
As the metal grill which guarded the hall,
Cast tall shadows around me, symbolic ghastly looks
I sighed in the pale light, god how I will finish it all

Wiping away a drop of sweat, I turned my face
The most heavenly wind, the table fan calmed me down
Shifting it to the most suitable place
I picked my pen with a determined frown

Writing furiously I sped my way,
Only pausing to shut my eyes and think
Four home works I thus tossed away
Starving my pen for more ink

I leaned a little and peeped into the living room,
My mother was not to be seen
She was too busy, I wisely did assume
I stretched my legs, leaning back like a queen

I doodled aimlessly and smiled
Making a cartoon of a girl, and dangling diamonds in her neck
I felt stupidly happy like a child
But turned intermittently to check
For the fan was powered by an inverter
Meant for homework and not my cartoon
And no matter what I would prefer                                                        
This evening stayed as hot as the noon

I turned to the fan, swirling so fast
Leaning in closer, I brushed away my hair
Hoping the moment could longer last
I enjoyed the breezy air

But my joy was short, i was struck with despair
I had even accustomed to the jangle for its sake
Oh no, all this is so unfair
Would the electricity be back or night I'll be awake

I leaned back again, this time inspired
I dreamt of work in air conditioned rooms,
Well lit where my eyes no more vexed and tired
And of diamonds and rich perfumes

 What i never thought although, that one day it may be true
And what more that I would be so used to the chill
That initially made my nails a ghostly shade of blue.
Tempting so much was the luxury, that it begun to smother my will

So even today when i find nothing to impel
I picture the little boy my father did once show
Sleeping soundly roadside, an angel in hell
What tomorrow would bring, little did he know

So even today when sleep and boredom envelop me
I switch off the AC, wondering how I ever studied in that fan's roar
I remind myself of what I have to be
Sometimes unease is bliss,
Sometimes we fall before we soar....

-Niharika Prasad

Monday, 4 April 2016

Why Let The Winners Have All The Fun?

Fifty pages of cursive writing for all to fill,
but most medico prescriptions are illegible still.
Like parrots singing rhymes all the same way
stuck with homework, and no time to play.

Right from the ill fated tenth year of life,
swings in a big schoolbag, like a butcher's knife
I must work hard,regardless of night or day
as my neighbor Sharmaji's daughter scores better they say.

I remember how neatly three columns i drew
past, present, future all tenses i knew,
The language rattles only in temples today
and I don't understand a word they say.

A system that is as ancient as the language i rote,
of fantasies, from the path of truth remote,
Two hundred words essay on the Gandhian dream
all flushed away..all now is clean.

I must not bend too low,for what will they say,
slightly low and hastily up, all the way,
pretending to casually smoothen my hair
not noticing my grandpa's despair.

There are many traditions, which are so uncool,
they never taught the meaning of national anthem in school.
all they taught me, that at the first beat,
the full song in a flow,i must repeat.

And hence today, i puff my chest with pride,
standing straight, hands by my side.
While i use only an imported device,
only when back stabbed today,do i pay the price.

As i was told to color within the lines,
on the already made designs,
So the only drawing that i did paint,
was a river and sky too blue, with two crows a little faint.

So when today i proudly beam,
my degree in my hand, true a dream.
It seems abroad better opportunities lie,
less scope for research,far away i must fly.

So while my parents silently age,
i must mint money, earn a handsome wage.
My education system has made me such, 
create i can't, but copy i can too much.

So i learn all their fancy ways,
Image result for foreigners doing namastewhile my tradition slowly decays.
But when i return to my country for a holiday,
What the hell! tourists greet me with a namaste !!!

When parts of my country, struggle today,
some are so dirty, a survey does say,
I shrug my shoulders,in the list my city is high,
after all I was taught only "Myself, Me and I".

There are only good old beliefs that i must obey,
Out of all rituals, few have been chosen to stay.

In a small town, in an ancient temple today
sits a goddess,on a white cloth her idol lay.
every month the cloth turns red,
wondrous she bleeds, all bow their head.

In the same country, and even today,
On certain days in a temple ,i must not pray
For even the gods might whisper far away,
They may forget they only created me this way.

As the stress builds up way too high,
no time to lie, to watch the starry sky.
I had a talent but I threw it away,
only because it dint fetch a good pay.

When everyday u go to work, daily on the side,
dogs bark loud, running side by side.
U don't pay attention, you don't ask them why
then why dint you today,the same apply?

I have lost my face, i never had a spine,

so whenever things are not fine,
I fall victim to peer pressure fast,
to pleasures which would not always last.

Its easy to just plug off the light,
leaving others behind to deal with the sorrowful night.
one would realize only when its too late
the drowning man clutches at weeds, but known is his fate.

For the life that you so casually throw,
there are so many the price who know
ask the children on dusty roads, at the traffic lights
trying to sell something, through day and nights.

Our country is free, and yet in chains
for what had our leaders taken so many pains?

It is time for a change, in our mind, in our ways
every little talent deserves a praise.

So unpredictable is the game of life
At least pick up and roll the dice

And if i have to run a race,

let others not slow down my pace
 A pair of blinders surround my eyes
my limit be way beyond the skies.

Where there is one,

there has to be a two and a three
So today i celebrate just being me.

Forget the trophy...just enjoy the run 
Why let the winners have all the fun? ;)


                                                                                                                                  - Niharika Prasad