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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 me......beauty 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