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.

Amazon is burning

Amazon is burning and with it my heart is burning.

The fire was not created by slamming of two stones,

Nor did lightning fall from the sky

To create this mayhem of ravage.

Can Planet Earth, without the Amazon be envisioned?

The nuclear superpowers committed

To global security and safety of environment

Must save Amazon, the lungs of the globe.

We are living in an era of herd mentality

Where people care more for themselves

And lesser for what is around them.

Deforestation is affecting our oxygen supply,

Injuring our health and the pristine beauty of nature.

Our rainfall is threatened and with it our crops.

Thinkers of exceptional sensitivity,

Responsible botanists and men and women

Poised and savvy, shocked to the core

Are waiting for a panacea for this evil.

Like moth to flame, we are drawn

To the illusion of materialism

At the cost of putting Mother Nature on her knees.

Amazon, like the phoenix, rise from your ashes.

The orangutans are beating their chests,

The rabits stunned and the colorful birds

Are fluttering their wings in agony.

So many species of animals and plants are affected.

May nations across the globe unite their efforts

To stop the burning and smouldering

Of our beautiful Amazon, so loving, so motherly.

Save Amazon

pramila khadun

Time Had His Reasons

Time had his reasons

My thoughts linger with the remnants of a lost love
Gone with the wind.

With precision profound and passion unflinching,
A beautiful allegory showcasing the truth of love,
Reigned in my heart for years many.

‘Loving is always cathartic,’
He whispered with feelings exuberant
In my ears soft and attentive.
The message spread around,
Hale and hearty, light and bright,
Like caleidoscopic rangoli
In all the cells of my body,
Making me shine with
The seven colors of love.

I was in the prime of my youth,
Always talking gleefully, gently and peacefully.
I touched his silvery grey hair
Which was like fur of a velvety cap.
Leaning on his shoulder, I replied,
‘Love knows neither decay nor decline.’

We looked at the crystal moon,
Our fingers entwined,
Admiring the sights and sounds
Offered by the waves.
We slept together on the sands soft.
In the morning, while the first rays of the sun
Warmed our hearts laden with love
And bodies drowned with passion pure,
We said ‘Adieu’ and parted.
Love had her reasons to bring us together
And time had his reasons to separate us for ever.

pramila khadun

Just love me

I do not want palaces studded with stones precious

Nor do I want luxury cars and jewellery rare.

I simply want to hear your voice,

Crossing the mountains and the seas

And softly landing in my ears,

Touching my higher state of consciousness,

Saying ‘I love you,’

While the perfumed candles flicker

Arousing desires too sweet to be told.

Just hold my hands in yours,

Allowing the beauty of my breasts to shine out.

Let my fears evaporate,

Look into my eyes,

Let me nestle in your cosy arms

While the stars perenially shine

In the vast sky filled with mirth.

Let us lie down on the sands soft

While the waves kiss each other

And we smile listening to the dolphins serenading.

I come close to you,

You cover my whole body with kisses.

I melt and softly murmur in your ears,

Just love me.

pramila khadun

Water, the pathfinder

Water is life and without water, humanity vanishes

And life from planet earth perishes.

Water teaches us lessons for survival

And if we follow them, our life will have no upheaval.

Water, water everywhere and in each drop

Is hidden a lesson to make more productive our crop.

Water needs no guide to find her destination,

She is her own pathfinder in all perfection.

Look at the grace with which she flows,

The white billowy clod knows

The contours of her body, the charms of her heart

And the generosity with which she quenches thirst.

She waits not for anybody, she knows her mission

And focusses on her way to reach her destination.

She is fearless, never afraid to traverse the woods,

Come wind, come fire, come obstacles, in same mood

She flows and if over an obstacle she cannot flow over,

She just flows by its side, all sober.

pramila khadun

The place where I live in

The place where I live in is called Lallmatie.

It is the centerpiece of the History of Mauritius

As many political struggles for the Independence of Mauritius

Took place in this village where great patriots live.

With concerted effort, the villagers have worked hard

To produce sugar, maize, vegetables and fruits.

The valleys rife with fragrance, the bees hovering around,

Harvest time and the orchids nestled in the hills

Add to the natural charms of my lovely village.

Hindus, Muslims and Christians live in harmony

Exchanging food culture, friendship and companionship.

Major festivals have become National festivals

Where Hindus celebrate Christmas and Christians

Celebrate Divali and Eid is celebrated by all.

The chinese who came to settle as traders

Have their retail shops and they speak Bhojpuri as well

Along with creole, a dialect sounding like French.

Famous dishes which are cooked, shared and sold are:

Biryani, meat, chicken and fish curries, noodles, fried rice,

Parathas and boiled basmati rice, local juices and alouda.

South Indian dishes are very popular.

Lallmatie is lively with friendly people

Living in big comfortable homes, driving lovely cars

And above all, encouraging their children

To reach great heights in the field of education.

With its rich cultural heritage, Lallmatie

Is an example to follow for other villages.

I feel so proud to live in this great and peaceful village.

pramila khadun

Call life by any name

If you call life Sympathy,

It is helping others in distress

Or at least holding their hands in yours.

If you call life Happiness,

It is feeling happy seeing others succeed in life.

If you call life Love,

It is loving unconditionally

Irrespective of caste or creed.

Life may be called Pity

If tears roll down your cheeks

Seeing the pains of others.

Life may be called Silence

If you do not utter any word

When suffering is inflicted upon you.

Tolerate and life is known as tolerance.

Rise for your rights and life is known as Justice.

Strive for the betterment of society

And life will be known as Compassion.

Work and life turns into Worship,

See all as one and Divinity becomes life’s mission.

See God in man and life will be Humanity.

See God in yourself

And life becomes Bliss.

pramila khadun

In sweet memory of Charles Dickens

One day, all of us will vanish in nothingness

Leaving our Pickwick Papers

To be blown by the wind.

Some of us had hard times

And still others had great times on earth.

Our memories fade not, the memories

Of things we saw in the Old Curiosity Shop

Or the books that we read, like,

Nicholas Nickleboy, Barbara Rudge and so on.

For Many our lives were like that of David Copperfield,

Full of search and challenges, pain and poverty

From which we emerge just like the lotus flower

Rises from dirt and mud

For Little Dorrit does not remain little for ever.

We do have Great Expectations from this life.

We say to ourselves,

We are not living in this Bleak House for ever

And our Mutual Friend, god knows it, feels it.

With artistic flamboyance, he sends mercy and grace.

Our city of the past grows into a city of the future.

Mesmerized, we ponder

A Tale of Two Cities.

We know Oliver Twist will not ask for more

For his little bowl will be full for ever.

However, not all our dreams and aspirations

Will be fulfilled in this very life.

Some will have to be left halfway

Just like Charles Dickens was halfway

Writing his book, Mystery of Edwin Drood

When he died, leaving beautiful memories behind.

pramila khadun

Being a widow

Being a widow is not being a window

Through which beautiful sceneries may be admired.

Being a widow means being a door

Through which one traverses all the vicissitudes

Of life that swing widely with variations

Of expressions on the pendulum of emotions.

Suddenly, she feels she is alone,

Alone to take care of the children,

Alone to cook and clean, alone to do washing up,

Alone to chop or shop and still alone

On bed during the long Winter nights.

Tired of crying, tired of sobbing,

Tired of loneliness, tired of tiredness,

And still tired of what people say

Both behind her back and infront of her eyes,

She decides to take her fate in her hands.

She rises from the ashes, like the phoenix,

She walks, head held high, focussed

On her achievable dreams,

She feels she is not alone,

Her children are there and a good friend as well

Though others turned their backs to her.

Most importantly, she feels her husband is still there

To support her in all her endeavours.

Like the kangaroo, she protects her children,

Like the lioness, she protects her dignity

And like the tortoise, she wins the race,

Slow and steady with a willpower,

As strong as steel.

pramila khadun