Author Archives: pramilakhadun

About pramilakhadun

I am the holder of a Bsc degree in Food and Nutrition from S.N.D.T University,Pune,India.Have taught this subject in a private institution for almost thirty-five years.Currently, I am retired and travel alot with my husband Raj, daughters Dr Rajnee and Priyum and son Airline Captain.Had my first book of poetry published by Minerva press, London and other two in Mauritius.More coming soon.I love poetry and enjoy reading poems of poets across the world and I feel Destiny Poets is the right place for me.

The beauty of breasts

The most beautiful creation of God is woman.

Painters have glorified the charms of women

With paint on canvas and poets with hearts soft

Have penned with a feathered quill

About the grace of the contours of a woman’s body.

When the fruit grows, the petals fall off

And when a girl grows, a woman comes into being

With beautiful round breasts to mesmerize her lover.

Who is the man who hasn’t drunk his mother’s milk?

All men have got wisdom from her milk.

Velvety to touch, breasts speak entrancingly

Of the hidden desires of a woman,

Simultaneously arousing the fiery acts

In a lover’s heart who knew not what love is

Until he held the breasts of his woman

Softly in his hands, feeling that

All the treasures of the world are hidden in them.

Seeing a woman’s breasts makes the lover

Come out from behind the veil of illusion.

He liberates himself from his self-imposed prison,

He sees love, he sees light, he sees truth.

Drunk with love, with grace feline,

His kisses fall on the breasts of his beloved,

Like dew falls on grass green.

Face to face with love and passion incarnate,

He listens to the tinkling of her bangles

Soothed by the glow of the candles.

Listening to the clinking of her anklets,

He surrenders to the Goddess of his love.

pramila khadun

I am the sun

In whatever part of the globe

You might be living, leading a life,

My rays will always reach you

For I am the giver.

I came not to receive,

I came to give what I have to offer,

Light and love.

Call me God, call me eyes of Shiva,

Call me friend, call me by any other name,

I came to give life and sustain it,

Loftily upholding my ideal,

With neither respite nor getaway

For I love you all, in days bright and clear

And nights dark, in various echelons

Of your life.

I look down and see you all

Working together creatively

To make a niche for yourselves,

A comfort zone, as sweet as chestnut honey.

I look at the farmers shelving the hay bales,

The horses running wild in the meadows,

The art of poesy being pushed ahead,

By poets’ cumulative love for writing,

Babies being breast fed by mothers

And like-minded people engrossed in a conference

To find ways and means to stop genicide

And destruction of life on planet earth

While evil men with an outlandish grin

Or a Machiavellian smile watch pools of blood,

Red as their own, cascading down.

I rise everyday and perform my task

For one day, all of us will have to give an answer

For all the good and the evil that we did.

Giving light and love is my mission.

I am the sun

pramila khadun

Jesus, today you resurrected

Jesus, nothing can stop you

From loving us all, not even death.

Today, many years ago, you resurrected

Defying all pains, all tortures, humiliations and even death.

You do not have to prove to the world

That you are omnipotent. omnipresent and omniscient.

We know it, we see it and we feel it in our hearts

And in our souls wherever we are and whosoever we are,

Rich or poor, black or white, famous or simple, learned or not.

Jesus, in you we find a friend, a guide and a master

Who holds our hands when we go astray

And brings us back to the right path,

The path that you tread in spite of all the hurdles,

The obstacles and the pot-boiling twists.

Original and daring, dauntless and fathomless,

You are in yourself a school and we, the learners.

You showed to us the road to fearlessness,

With uncompromising faithfulness to mankind,

Thereby bringing a transformation powerful enough

To create spiritual awakening that transcends the mundane.

You showed to us right livelihood

That brings the joys of life

And you taught us that forgiving is divine.

Today, when I thought of how you washed

The lovely feet of your disciples,

Tears flowed down my cheeks for wisdom

Flashed to me in the colors of the rainbow

That we never came on planet earth

To be served but to serve others.

And now Jesus, all of us are in so much pain

With the pandemic that does not want

To release its grip from our frail bodies.

If it is a collective karma, please forgive us

And come to our world to freshen our minds

About the ways of living and solving our problems

Just like you did many many years ago.

pramila khadun

Midnight moments

When the world is plunged in sleep deep,

I sit on a sea-swept shore

And think of the havoc that covid-19

Is doing to humanity.

It is midnight.

The beautiful moon, untouched by Covid

Is not rejoicing her safe plight.

She is sad and shedding tears of grief.

The clouds, seeing her, cry out their hearts

And the rain drenches my naked body.

I look at the trees

Which are much older than me,

They speak out words of wisdom

With an uncompromising faithfulness to humanity.

In complete unison, they cry,

‘May man be protected from harm.’

While the stars commune silently,

Their sombre faces looking

At the debility of many men and women,

Undergoing a canny experience with Covid-19,

I walk back home carrying the weight

Of midnight moments, while the transparent

mysterious night starts embracing

The beautiful hours of the morning.

pramila khadun

My grandmother’s food

Four feverish days with head tossing restlessly

In the hollow of a pillow

Were finally over.

I felt the gentle pangs of hunger

Rumbling in my stomach.

I slowly dragged my steps to my grandmother’s

Little house which was next to ours.

Inside the cavenous kitchen,

My grandmother was trying to light the damp wood.

She poured some kerosene on the wood

And struck the matchstick.

The fire burst out like lightning.

She placed the kettle of water on top.

The kettle was as battered ,

As encrusted as some old item

Dug out by an archaeological team.

She put both her hands on her knees

And was waiting for the water to boil.

Two o’clock was my grandfather’s tea time.

I could hear his clip-clop sandals

Slapping along the road.

Reaching home, he would sit on his huge armchair

Under the verandah and wait for his tea.

Touching my grandmother’s shoulder, I said,

‘Dadi, I am hungry.’

My dadi rose up immediately

And looking at me with raised eyebrows,

She said, ‘There is some hot rice and fried brinjals,

Would you like to eat some?’

I simply nodded my head.

Wiping the beads of sweat on my forehead,

With the back of my hand,

I said something in a low faltering tones.

In an old aluminium plate

With five or six tiny holes at the bottom,

My dadi served me the hot steaming food.

The rice had a rich flavor

And the brinjals were glistening,

Just drained from hot oil.

I ate my food ravenously

And felt freshened and invigorated.

Sixty years have elapsed since I ate my dadi’s food.

Yet, sometimes, when I am recovering

From fever or some other ailment,

That afflicts me or weakens me,

And I feel like eating something,

My dadi’s plate of food flashes to my mind

And my mouth waters beyond control.

pramila khadun

Today’s beacon of hope

Any forward-looking government

Which has a clear mandate to govern,

Undisturbed by coalition partners

Nor harassed by the opposition

Has a very good handful of women parliamentarians

Who show sheer grit, hard work and never say-die-spirit,

Will go a long way and reach its goals.

So many women politicians are keenly promoting

Truth, secularism, entertainment, infotainment,

History, Arts, sports and the Vedas

While some men are busily involved in tender-fixing rackets,

Political gamesmanship and corruption

Which announces their withering and redundancy.

The multi-faceted personality of women,

Their phenomenal talents, innovative and imaginative spirit

And their thoughtfulness and patience

With a crowd of cameras flashing on them

Is making of them enigma to their country people.

Surprisingly enough, many don’t like women

To hold key positions, however capable they are.

Interestingly enough, those women who are on the front track

Seriously pursue scaling the heights of excellence.

With stunning possibility that in years to come

Many more countries will place their entire confidence

In women as their leaders.

Look at the William sisters.

It’s their power and stamina,

Their pain and perseverance

That have made of them sporting icons.

Remember that this red and beautiful William blood

Runs in the veins of all responsible women.

A time will come when very few will be able

To match the prowess of women.

They will be the Godsend humanity is waiting for.

With vibrant, knowledge-infused thinking,

They are today’s beacon of hope

And tomorrow’s fulfilment.

pramila khadun

He poured water in her mouth

She is a long time yachting enthusiast,

A courageous, original and daring girl.

Her laughter is clearly spontaneous

And her voice often cracks like a child.

She is incalculably endearing,

Has an articulate manner

And outgoing telegenic personality.

She went to see the blue lakes of Switzerland

And the beautiful edifices of Italy.

Every night, she thought about them

Until sleep allured and captured her eyes.

She listened to the horses snorting and neighing

While carts were rattling and squealing.

While the scent of the lilac bloom rose in the air,

She felt an invisible pair of wings

Carrying her higher and higher in the sky.

Sometimes, she looked at the sky

As vaguely as a solitary dove.

A dewy luxury filled her eyes

And while she looked

At the shooting of meteor stars,

She enjoyed listening to the soft music

Of the holy sphere.

She didn’t have an over-dependence on cars and malls.

One evening, she went in a well-preserved

Natural open space amidst almond blossoms,

Cinnamon and rain-scented eglantine.

The moon was shining between the pines.

Three men came with lust overflooding their eyes,

Mouth watering with vicious saliva

And penis erect and hard like a cane.

They raped her in turns, beat her

And strangled her to a point

Just short of death.

She cried and a stranger passing by heard her.

He came, she sobbed uncontrollably

And in between sobs, she told him about her nightmare.

He held her in his arms, kissed her and looked into her eyes.

He cleaned her wounds and poured water in her mouth.

Together, beneath the great sky,

They slept till the early hours of the morning.

The following Sunday, they were happily married.

Dances with Radha and Krishna

She had always fought life

With the skill and grace of ten boxers.

Her intellect and hard work were single-handed

Responsible for putting her where she was.

For her, life had never been a bizarre

And hilarious adventure beyond her wildest dreams.

She thought that everyone had the potential

To realize the state of ultimate wisdom

As it is an intrinsic part of our nature.

The zen sages say that when the student

Is ready, the teacher will appear.

She had been waiting for her teacher

Stomach knotted with anxiety,

Tear-tainted frightened face

With a pain and grief almost beyond bearing.

She often used to cry, feeling old and weary

As though life had betrayed her.

Yet, she never buried her head in the sand.

Grounded and reasonable, she thought that

All her pains were beautifully orchestrated

To inspire her with the wisdom of

The wise belonging to the golden age of Kalidasa.

She thought of Cicero who believed that

The souls of wise people look to

The future of their existence,

All their thoughts concentrated towards eternity.

She started tapping into the energy

That created the stars.

She felt like a small keen wind

Strolling from the Arctic

At its own sweet will.

She felt her parachute had opened finally.

A new day dawned wit dazzling sunshine.

Krishna touched her hands.

Radha smiled at her.

Both sang to her the poetry of real life

And invited her to dance with them.

She joined them in a dance.

They taught her the steps.

Her heart melted, tears of joy flowed.

A sweet jasmine scent filled the air

While stars began to flower in the great sky.

pramila khadun

Where your logic is man’s logic

O God, your logic is no longer man’s logic.

You say something and man says something else.

When you say every man’s blood is red,

Man says, ‘And yet, the body is not the same.’

He finds reasons to justify his thinking,

Where fair skin is fairer than dark skin,

Where black is more beautiful than white

And royal blood is better than common blood

And where status is governed by money.

When you find beauty in the paddy fields of Bihar,

The mighty Brahmaputra in Assam,

The glittering dewdrops on grass,

Poets who have revolutionized

The architecture of poetry,

Great mathematicians like Archmedes,

Copernicius, Socrates who were philosophers

Par excellence and shook man’s thinking,

Man finds beauty in glittering gold,

The fashionable shoes and clothes,

The jingling coins, the bundles of notes,

Big-breated women with neither substance

Nor a touch of spirituality,

Laughing in a morally disorganized civilization.

O God, lead us to that way, that path,

Where men and women blossom like flowers,

Where the garden is the same

Though the colors of the flowers are different,

Where we are provided by an impetus

To become beautifully whole ourselves,

Where vulnerability and fragility

Are filtered to release the real man’s identity,

Where life is not threatened

For speaking the mind,

Where all men are brothers

And where your logic is man’s logic.

pramila khadun

A Renaissance

Rather than a thousand pleasures

Is that one pain that brings liberation

From the shackles of attachment and pride,

Ignorance and indifference, violence and disturbance.

Corona, the pandemic of the century,

Came not only to inflict pain

But most importantly, it surged as an eye-opener,

Arousing collective consciousness

That all of us are one, whether black or white

And though our variations of pain and suffering

May swing widely on the pendulum of emotions,

We all cry in pain, we all depend on others

In the same way others depend on us for relief,

Echoing the Hindu concept of Satyam, Shivam Sunderam.

We, as avant-gardiste of our times

Cannot allow our minds to play old thoughts.

Our unrelenting passion for humanity’s progress

Must glow like paint on canvas,

The gleaming light that stands on man’s path

Will never leave man like old trash or recycled garbage.

Man’s evolution must not lead to man’s degeneration.

This is what Corona teaches us

In the depth of our heart and the layers of our soul.

While the columns of smoke rise

Like falcons flapping their wings

For the great heights with graceful composure,

We ease our troubled hearts

And pray for man’s unity, for peace and for love.

Prayers have powers, conclusively, incisively.

Man, master of his mind

With knowledge of all kinds

Beneath a balanced Yin and Yang

Lost the games he so intelligently played.

It is believed that encountering difficulties

Is the most humbling and inspiring experience

And Corona taught us all not to marvel on our riches

But to focus on diseases and disorders

Of the world where life is a cacophony.

Now, each and every individual across the globe

Is walking like a lion, sure of himself,

Cautious, commanding respect

With clear-sightedness powerful enough

To enlighten our lucid and luminous insights

And all our weaknesses are falling like Autumn leaves.

Our fake ideologies and philosophies are evaporating

Leaving behind men and women with beautiful minds.

There is beauty in adversity where one learns

Perseverance, forbearance and endurance pared to perfection.

However painful an experience may be,

Ultimately, it crystallizes into blissful memories.

Humanity was not meant to race frenetically

At the cost of devastating, bombing, killing

Leaving us in a spaghetti-like tangle of frustration.

Corona came, saw and conquered all hearts.

Nobody wants neck-to-neck competition,

Locked horns, hunger, poverty and pain,

Separation and suppression,

Inadequacies and inequities.

Corona has shaken up the world

Awakening the pristine beauty of man’s mind.

Together, man is showing his deep concern

For a peaceful world where there is justice

And his commitment to global security will never waver,

Where all men live like brothers

And women are pushed forward to get what they deserve,

Where governments are free from corruption and nepotism,

Where children grow safely and smile softly,

Where animals are loved and cared for

And nature flourishes in abundance.

Corona has revolutionized society

Forging a Renaissance serendipitous.

In rapturous delight, we whisper to each other

That we stood the test of time

And that a divisive and demoralized world

Are a past we forgot long time back.

Nestled in nature’s bosom, in amiable light,

We move ahead with unconditional love and support

Singing to our heart’s content,

Experiencing a transcendental moment

About a new world called ‘Love and Compassion.’

pramila khadun