The Voice Within Me ....

the very idea of taking the road less travelled has always fascinated me .....this is one of my first poems ,written on this very spirit.

as the class sleeps,
the lecturer in front of me speaks ,
with contribution by some geeks,
there's a voice within me which longs to be heard.


as people around me yawn,
with their concepts thoroughly drown,
some thinking about porn,
there's a voice within me which longs to be heard.

as my patience goes for a ride ,
my temperament thoroughly tried,
with the shattering of my pride,
there's a voice within me which longs to be heard.

as I see,
flash cards being read,
gossips being shared,
no one bothered or cared,
there's a voice within me which longs to be heard.

as I listen to him(the inner voice);

he seems pretty clear ,
about I not belonging here,
he says,with time not on your side,
emotions within you will no longer hide.

stand up,get up,take your stride,
follow your heart, to that chosen ride ,
walk the road less travelled ,
leaving behind everyone settled.

it's all about taking the first step,
it's all about putting thoughts to an effect,
if u happen to think about this whenever,
remember its now or never!

when you take a decision ,you also choose the consequence

mein aur meri kavita-2

the other day i saw a woman running in the middle of the road.in a hurry,carrying something in her hand .and just couple of minutes later i saw a school bus,speeding past me away .the very superposition of these two images ,coupled with some assumptions , gave me goosebumps and led this poem ...

running up the lane,
gasping for breath;
drops of perspiration on her forehead,
that concern in her eyes;
healthy,middle-aged and in a hurry,
was that lady in a saree.

it looked a bit awkward,
running in the middle of the street going upwards.
it looked a bit strange,
looking at those expressions on her face.

and then...

she suddenly stopped in the middle,
helplessly,looking at the school bus;
that vroomed,zoomed and sped away.
and thats when my gaze fell on her hands,
that gripped a tiffin box and a water-bottle,
tightly in their gasp.

awed i stood there looking at her.
not knowing what to say,
not knowing what to do .
thousand emotions running through my mind;
for strange are the forms of a mother's love.

all i did was all i cud
salute that spirit of motherhood...