Under the dome
In the sanctity of your domain
The sacred vicinity
Where people pour their heart out.
Bowing my head,
In veneration for the supreme divine.
Tears silently trickle down, soaking my chest.
You hear my words, my cry, my silence.
Requesting and pleading.
Relieve me of the weight,
My heart no longer can tolerate.
Show me the path out of this labyrinth
Or bestow in me,
Strength to bear it fearlessly
And accept it as a part of me.
Drop by drop the water trickles
Cracking the rocks creates ripples
So strive O brave heart,
Diligently towards your goal.
The roads may seem unending
And turns steep and bending.
Tired steps may become unsteady
But flame in mind should burn steady.
The path to destination will many a hurdles face,
Deterring thoughts in mind will race.
Like tornado will twist and grip
Here the strong mind displays its grit.
Forces may connive to change the path,
Nature may also show its wrath.
Social and economic burdens will to problems contribute
Endure and never allow them to delude.
No matter how vexing and consuming the conditions
Of your aim always keep clear vision. Repeated failures may like blisters hurt
But a brave soul it cannot deter.
Sagacity laced with endurance and plethora of patience
Will deliver you to your glorious destination. When you see the rainbows arch in the sky Then your sigh
will confirm all was worth
Those were the golden days
When my mother, fondly plaited my hair
Standing behind me, while the appetizing aroma of puri and chhole
Wafted in the fresh morning air.
She would rush out of the kitchen holding a steel lunch box,
tucking it in my satchel , she headed towards the dressing table
Where I waited for her to braid my plaits, two smooth and immaculate,
Which didn’t suite my taste yet had to abide by a schoolgirl’s trait.
Smoothening my hair, she would religiously advice with a distinctive flair
Of how crucial was teenage when one should prepare to sit for GATE
Keeping at bay, all insane thoughts of fashion and mate.
And when I fidgeted, with the slightest prod of the comb would warn me of getting late.
I would absorb the morning sun that smiled through the curtains ,
Exuding the perfect amount of warmth and freshness,
and occasionally the mirror would reflect her anxiety behind her calmness,
As she braided blessings to ward off evil eyes.
Those were the nights when she oiled my hair
Massaging in the wisdom of life that she wanted me to take care.
Combing away my fears, she enunciated the importance of nourishing the roots,
Be it of the wavy mass on the head or a noble adulthood.
I would initially rebel at being made to sit still,
Then feeling love radiate from of her gentle fingers to my scalp ,
I would give in, secretly enjoying the massage,
A pain, imagining a world without her one day, would then implode my heart.
Note: Puri – an Indian bread made by deep frying
Chhole – an Indian spicy dish made by chick peas.
GATE _ General Aptitude Test in Engineering.
Several mouths to feed ,
Leaking shelter to pay for,
Dues to be cleared,
To get the land that lies mortgaged.
For ages, he and his clan have been sinking in the dark sea of penury,
So Corona just remains a battle secondary.
Amidst suspending drops of death, he has to step out
Or else he and his kin, won’t get a morsel,
And their starving cells would soon be dead,
Making them immune to fear and dread,
For how could Corona kill the already dead?
So Corona just remains a battle secondary.
Beating the searing heat and thunderous rain, he struggles to earn some penny,
Lest his sister is pawned to the wealthy demons lurking around,
While silently he feels his pride shattering,
Seeing the famished body of his wife through tattered clothing.
Sanitizers and masks from where should he bring ?
So, Corona just remains a battle secondary.
The last embrace I often retrace
Straightening your cap and pulling your tie
You drew me close to whisper a lie,
‘See you soon’ you muttered planting a kiss,
Kisses that were my greatest bliss.
No goodbyes exchanged for that was the rule,
For the trip would be over in a blink
And you would knock before the spring
Turning around you walked away
And i kept watching your silhouette
getting smaller on the way
as your footsteps got silent in the night.
Counting the days I reveled in the dulcet aroma
of your skin that lingered against mine
But before the spring could witnessp
the next bloom
A tornado of ill fate left me marooned
When tring, tring rang the sonorous bell
And what followed was hard to tell
The storm gushed in, blowing the curtain to the ceiling
The chandelier crushed down ending in shards
Gloomy clouds blanketed the sky
And the rain howled shaking me to reality,
Thumping against the chest the heart cried
Entrapped in a conundrum stumbled my steps
Fingers dug deep striating the chest
As if to pluck out the bleeding heart
and mitigate the pain.
After eons, it seemed, they brought you.
Eyes turned into gargoyles seeing your remains
Wrapped in the highest honour
Waiting patiently to bid the unsaid goodbye
So valiantly you fought
To rid the nation of its hostile infestation
Deflecting all attacks valiantly
But this time they hit from the back cowardly,
When you started digging deeper in their track.
For no foreign enemy was in the file
But the very own fraudulent leaders in disguise.
The ambiguous ways of gentle life
Crying and smiling we survive.
Served are some, on silver platter
While some see their dreams shatter.
Life ,to some gives choices galore
It’s up to them to take or ignore.
Nectar hidden in petal bowls
Or venom hidden in toothed holes.
Life, corners some with numerous woes
No options but to bear the throes.
Yet, end the day with a thankful smile
For a grateful heart has no thoughts hostile.
The sanguine sun has to hide at night
For the moon to show its silvery light .
Extols and parables seem sometimes fake,
When to build one , the other breaks.
Ah yes! The callous ways of gentle life,
Where pain and sadness are rife.
Glorifying those that brag and boast.
Hurting the heart that cares the most.
Copyright © Bilquis Fatima
As darkness shrouds ,
the mind dissects the night,
Rummaging through the scattered
hills, valleys, foliage and caverns.
Where stoic eyes lie wide open on pillows
glaring at the unfathomable darkness,
giving company to the glittering
and not yet glittering stars.
Riding on the wings of anticipation,
flipping through distant shores,
I struggle to locate you in various destinations
Of the map etched in my mind
To quietly slip through and find
a remote corner in a lobe of your brain
Or a space in your throbbing heart chambers.
Who said that evil has taken over the world
Who said that goodness no longer prevails,
Just look at the flowers that bloom
In copious amount around the world.
The frilly dresses of invisible fairies
Upturned to absorb the blessings of the sun.
Enticing spectrum of colours they spread
Exuding fragrance of melifluous blends.
How we human do ignore
Entangled in our chores and woes,
The precious flora nature procures.
Verily God’s oeuvre for us to behold.
As petal by petal they unfold.
Relentlessly they bloom each day each season.
To thank the creator gives us many reasons.
Ending up in vases or in a lover’s tresses,
Or pile up on a saint’s grave, in pure veneration.
© Bilquis Fatima
Under the silver twilight love walks away
The silhouette growing smaller
Disappearing in the oblivion.
Leaving behind a storm of darkness.
Giving a feel of a hundred arrows
piercing at once
That’s when the heart looks inside the void
And wonders what had created the chaos
What churned the life for a lifetime
Pursuing bliss ephemeral,
Is love for real or just an illusion
Or mere delusion
Or fancy of a youthful heart
Or a myth of folklores.
For if love was genuine
Then why it proves a travesty
Doesn’t love make you smile,
When you first feel the vibe,
Exuding an aura of bliss and joy
Then why does it fade away ?
If altruistic emotions are its creations
why does it wax and wane
and hides behind shades
turning into a stranger,
to the one whose space it occupied.
the weight of which felt ,
only once gone.
Causing deep impressions,
Leaving a heart scathed for generations.
Weary rough hands holding bunches of succulent stems
Soft ,fresh , brightly coloured flowers ,at one end She fervently beckons all passers by.
A screaming contrast to her faded ,crushed limping gown ,
Pallid face with poetry written between deep lines.
And pathos peeping from her ripened eyes
That unfolded tales of desertion and neglect .
The wafting scent of blossoms made me wonder
If her house ever scented of blossoms,
or if she even had a house.
Spending her nights in the shade of old warehouses
And her days under the scorching sun
Dragging her feet for miles stopping at red lights
Offering the most beautiful gift of nature,
To sate the demonic hunger of her belly
That pricked her day and night .
Maybe cursing her fate or thanking her stars ,
For the resilience her feeble body, showed so far.
I lunged forward stretching my hands,
Grabbing the whole lot from her,
Presumably relieving myself of a weighty guilt.
Shoving some crispy papers between her stifled fingers.
Looking down at her filled palm
a stream of gratitude rolled down her cheeks
Probably for mitigating her pain.
I watched her abashed and benumbed.
A gripping consternation crippling me.
Verily ,is this all that one could do
To water the withering hopes
Of a mother abandoned by destiny.
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