The Old Age

Looks forlorn and those eyes dreamless
Staring at the unending life’s vastness
Of the immense sky or maybe the space.
The hollowness reflects from their hidden grace.
The old age like a rude shock but inevitable occurrence,
turning a once strong person at mercy of dependence.

Oozing out into your dream filled expectant eyes,
They seem to question a reason to thy happiness.
Surprised are they at your bountiful chirpiness
For they have long forgotten it all in nobility,
To the cruelties of age, poverty or inability.

Sitting in the lawn with unappreciative surround
Of the various shades of green that bound around
Reflecting their vacant thoughts of
God knows what within the mind frame.
Their pain, their agony of sullen loneliness
In this ripe age of less mobility and solitude.

No gossipy tales and no conversation,
Minds vacant and hurts in exaggeration.
A few square meals to kill The boredom
and hungers adaptability to toothless subjugation.
Agility low and highly fragile physical taking,
The two wheels in chair now do their walking.

Responding to a rare visitor with rations,
albeit disinterested or taking precautions,
Of not getting bonded that brings them hurt,
When their own discard them like an old shirt.
The elderly at that home for the aged in Nairobi,
Similar in thought and attitude like any other city.

Relying solely upon their caregivers and routine chart,
Annoyed as well as pleased in the deep corner of the heart.
The grief that long stopped spillage, sharing and shedding,
The comfort zone merely is the lone window and bedding.
The lonesome, forlorn, dreamless and desire less days,
Await the dark messenger of death to stir up the gloom.



Poem of the Month for February : Published in The Asian Weekly, edition 336 (JAN 27 – FEB 02, 2017)




The Torn Photograph

Several visits to orphanages and schools where orphans are studying resulted in this piece of poetry as I tried to place myself in an orphans shoes. I have cried writing this poetry as the emotions of a child who lost his world were too strong and touched my soul. Would love your opinion on this work as we live in a world of ungratefulness where we complain much and fail to acknowledge the bountiful mercies of life.


A rare queasy sentiment!
Emerged from under four chambers Of my heart,
When twisted and somewhat curled I found,
That piece of an old photograph.
Placed prominently in a fresh envelope with my name .
Torn at an end where his finger  would have been,
Slightly washed away from the upper right end,
Mother’s face appeared faded caused by erosion untimely.
Father’s fingers went missing cut off by the rude tear.
I found that rustic gem of a possession,
In the orphanage mother’s last possessions.
In the picture too they protected me, saved me from damage,
As they tore away and faded away.
The parents who now live only in the mind as a fond memory.
When the house caught fire by some freak stove accident,
It killed my joy, my loving angels and my toys.
And I stood alone, as I reached home from
my school in the blue uniform.
Probably she had cooked my meal for me.
Probably he had bought my new shoe for me.
The questions remained unanswered, and  misery and gloom registered
I now look upon this photograph that  was salvaged by someone.
I was smart in this , holding hands of mum and dad at each end.
Years passed and I never knew of this gift,
Neatly hidden away by my orphanage mum.
I got it now as I have grown and she passed on,
Handing over the kids under my empty care.
I was poor till a minute ago but now am rich with memories ,
That came flooding along with this torn photograph.
The patio with the paint pealed off,
And my toy car that would zoom off,
The shelf of books in the living room,
Where God knows how many books Dad would read.
That sewing machine in the angular corner,
where mum would pride, displaying her charismatic creations.
And the bat and ball and carom board,
All gone lost have reflected back,
In a wink so real yet elusive and impossible.
The rare queasy sentiment!
It Leaves me undecided if I am happy now,
Or, was I happier,
Before the treasured find through  my memory lane,
In the visible form of this tattered
But so beautiful,
Torn and worn out old photograph.



poem of the month: June 2017

published in THE ASIAN WEEKLY edition 353, May 26- June 1, 2017


Short Term Targets

A lot going on within that scrumpy, entangled mass of grey within the top most part of the body. The Year has begun, Yes we are progressing towards getting over with the first half of the first month – January. How much of those self proclaimed resolutions have we worked upon?

I happened to fix my sight on and my creative juices atarted to flow out right here from the grey matter into the fingers on the keyboard, reaching out to your eyes.

It has become a fashion to proclaim various resolutions on the New Year’s each year end or beginning only to be forgotten. What we need to do is set ourselves little targets that are visibly feasible to our overworked minds in this constant bustle of activity caused by the actual work and the social media. So if you haven’t yet made any resolution or haven’t commenced to work on the one you already made – please do congratulate yourself. Do I sound nuts? Well I am that nut with the extra hard shell if you please.

If your diet plan is what you need to work upon then you know that planning for three months down the line appears very tedious hence may I suggest an alternative plan. Plan a week to week diet plan and take that special sunday as your rewarding day and relish what you craved for the most. Not only does that make your sunday more of a funday ( or a sin day if you overindulge) it provides that much wanted rest period. The week passes off smoothly and the following week could turn out healthier than the previous one.

If you intend keeping up with self discipline ( whether it is to do with yoga, exercise, smoking or drinking) target three days to begin with. This may sound easy to achieve and then continue further. Repeat the same for the few more following weeks. Your mind, body and spirit will then probably guide you to acknowledging the first three days of the week as more refreshing. This might give you the push from your own self to continue with the discipline. Why wait for this at the New Year’s time. These goals can be achieved any time during the year. Some might want to opt for alternate days in the week instead of first three days and that is perfectly fine too.

Those aiming to gain a lift on the spiritual path might want to start practicing simple meditative practice once a week for five 5 – 10 minutes. As a matter of principle it helps not to set hard and fast rules about the particular hour of the day as you might require more flexibility. Gradually you may increase the time span or number of days during a week and remember you are not competing with anybody and simply doing it for your own happiness and comfort.

This hard nut shall now leave you to ponder about many other resolutions you would want to make now. Do not bog yourself down with a lot and move that first step to whatever you choose to do. The options are unlimited : take your pick : Cycling / Painting / learning a craft / learning a language / traveling / Swimming / Tennis / IT skills / Photography /Trekking / Knitting / Carving / Teaching / Visiting relatives and friends etc etc …

The Year Begins


The year begins with some beginnings anew
Joys grow abundant and sorrows get few
Happiness stays with you like super glue
May you see success of vibrant tones & hues.

Forget not but the challenges that doth grow
Not always remains bright the sun and it’s glow
Take you some pledges now to save the world
Conserve your environment for the energy flow.

Reuse and recycle to the maximum possible
Waste not the resources you have bountiful
Look back to reflect on those grandma’s days
Using handmade cloth bags holding plentiful.

Discard not much paper and pen now and then
Read and learn and pass on books to brethren
Why did you forget those slates, boards of yore
And cut down the trees for so called education.

Those cushion covers that turned into dusters
Those refillable fountain pens, chalks & dusters
They were meant for us to learn conservation
Let’s remember to avoid wasteful plastic clusters.

Awaken let us all to the need of a new generation
The resources diminishing require the conservation
The Ozone layer and changing weather pattern
Are serious threats to our planet’s protection.

A newness of thoughts going back into older time
When mankind was one and segregation was sublime
Tribalism, casteism and racism is considered crime
We need such energies to belong to mine and thine.

The year begins with some beginnings anew
Love grows abundant and hatred finds few
Unison amongst all beings like Mountain Dew
Clarity of minds becomes like the skies so blue.



In the media : Published as the Poem of the month, JANUARY in The Asian Weekly, Edition 333 (06-12 January)


You call me mad!



You call me mad my child
But I love you my dear child.
When you tumbled and toddled,
My hands always fondled.
When you injured your little toe
And cried in pain,
I smiled, I cheered you up and comforted.
Hidden from your eyes I cried for your pain
For I felt that pain of your toe in myself.

You call me mad my child
But I love you my dear child.
When you hated me for being strict
And loved your dad and found him loving,
I accepted it with no ill feeling
For it was my love that made me tough
And you saw the trait of me
That acted tough.
But I knew deep inside that I taught you
Persistence and experience of patience.

You call me mad my child
But I love you my dear child.
When you felt rejected and dejected
Happiness from your heart ejected.
I wept silent tears
That bled my heart and soul.
Yet you noticed not once what your mother is
And selfishly went into your quiet
Killing me and labeling me a failure.
Your sorrow was of great significance ,
I forgot my own and cared for you
To be called mad by you.

Yes, if all that I did was mad
Then I am mad my dear child.
If loving you is madness then I am mad.
If caring and nurturing was being insane
Then I am glad I am insane.
All through my crazy frenzy,
I brought up a person so smart
Who proudly declares himself smart,
And has the capacity to declare
Others not so smart.
Did I err then, or do you err now
Who knows what truth doth bestow.

Thank you my child for calling me mad
As today is a day of my recognition.
My blessings to you my child
That may you be a successful parent one day.
May you shower love enough to
Not let your offspring stray.
May you fulfill wishes and not commands
That help your children balanced grow.
May the moment never come in your life
When your child calls you mad, my dear child.
That would be my biggest failure my child
For each parenthood is a lineage
From ones parents and their parenting.