I sat in the backyard of your heart,
If you saw me not,
Am I to be blamed?
The entire gamut of knowledge
flew away in smoke,
When pangs of separation
clasped hands and feet,
shackled in thick chains
with innumerable needles,
piercing through the delicate skin
to declare all other things perfectly futile.
Such is the journey of the heart,
Not many travelers on side
moving on in camaraderie
of subtle souls,
Nodding silently at the selection,
Books of facts refuse to reveal
the roadmaps to such journeys.
Heart draws its own roadmaps,
Colours it with myriad emotions,
Invents its own signboards,
Departs from the roads of life
to sketch its own passages
on the arc of the heavenly rainbow.
This children s day
This year this day and every passing day here after
I want to nurture the child in me
And all the children all around.
Children young and not so young
Caught in the ambush of information overload
The media snipers and Us, the adults
Take frequent shots at their innocence.
Too much too soon is never a boon.
Let them breathe, the blooms around,
Enjoying lilting melody of nature’s sound.
No overburdened smile less kids.
No children to be working on roads,
Selling balloons, and toys but having none of their own.
Don’t burn the live effigy of these innocent souls
Let them be just a child just in itself let them be whole.
Lets not impose our unfulfilled dreams on them
Lets send them to schools, not to work and earn on their own.
Only earning for them should be endless bags of happy memories
No limits too short or too high
Just let them enjoy how, what, who and why…
When you find out that your best friend, Doina, the beautiful woman with dark, long hair, thin and elegant, tall and always smiling, a fairy entirely for you only, is, in fact, your mother, and you dance in front of the mirror keeping that piece of paper pressed on your heart and you sing: ‘Doina is my mom, Doina is my mom’… And you are happy, you feel forever connected with that angel… Even if that piece of paper let you know that Doina is deceased by suicide, you know that was the only way for you to have your own fairy, your own angel…. Never been mad on my mom, I understood completely her gesture… It was a reminder for me to pay attention to the people around me who act like they love me but they weren’t truly my friends. So you see, I always had my fairy with me to dance, to laugh together, to run a mock in the fields, to trek the mountains… We always meet in my dreams, in my poems, when the waves kiss my soles, when the sun breaks the clouds blanket, when the storms postpone their light lashes till I arrive on a safe ground… When my own daughter smiles naughtily, I find her, my fairy, my tall, thin mother.
From that moment onward all my nightmares stopped, my mother was there with me forever. Strange it is that I completely forgot this episode of me dancing and singing in the mirror, crying out my mother’s name, but the bad witch was lurking around spying on me and for sometime now, I wonder if she didn’t put that piece of paper especially in my way. I think her scenario was that the news of my mother’s death will kill me as I was already a very sick kid suffering of separation syndrome… The effect was the other way around, I felt connected with the gods, happy as never been before, suddenly a purpose rised in my life: to make my mother proud! Thirty years later I found out about this manifestation of mine from a friend of the bad witch… This was her argument that she knew I never loved her even if I called her mom as
she taught me herself, she always knew that I will betray her…. How this witch could imagine I would completely forgot my fairy, my mother, my angel is beyond my imagination… You steal another woman’s child to secure her husband, then you get pregnant to tie the knot perfectly around that man’s neck, his wife commits suicide, but you expect their child to be loyal to you forever… This logic ruins my mind… But, do not worry, my friends, we are safe for now, my fairy and I
It is mandatory to know what will happen
To good planet earth in coming years.
The earth is reacting to the accumulated
Sins of mankind cropping up like mushrooms.
Man is forgetting that the universe
Operates by law, sacred in nature.
This is the time,
Neither to hate, nor to judge.
This is the time to love.
This is the time to forgive.
When will the idea dawn
In man’s vagabond mind
That we are supernaturally natural
And lots of powers are in our hands.
Open your hands, open your mouth,
Open your heart and open your eyes,
Repent, forgive and love.
Then only the holy spirit
Will be poured in you.
Then only, you will experience
True faith, true compassion
And true love.
Oh what tangled webs we weave,
when first we practice to deceive.
Ourselves, our hearts, and then our soul,
striving just to keep it whole.
Then fear creeps in to blow apart,
the bandaged pieces of our heart.
We think we’re good,
believe we’re strong,
but Masquerading all along.
Only God can heal the pain,
Help us learn to dance again.
His perfect Love unravels all,
and all the masks removed will fall.
on the silent road;
You have already attained
falling down from a tree
Morning broom –
Sweeper sweeping the road
I know not, when
You will be found
on the garbage heaps, or
Burned like a pungent smoke
The ache of mundane living
Eased up as the sweet flow
Of celestial grace peeped at me
From their beautiful pinkish clouds!
Why, celestial grace, aimed to guide
Fallen souls towards their destinations
So as to allow them to choose, for themselves,
Whether they wish to be saved
From the mundane filth
Or to crawl back to it
Remains that which fills me,
From head to toe,
With a feeling of bliss!
Pray, grace comes in all forms,
Be it in a spiritual awakening
Or in the guise of love,
Grace is simply meant to be accepted,
To be adapted to,
To be submitted to
And to treasured
Nothing else is real about this world
Except for it!
The ache of my own life
When the skies spoke to me
I have been allowing myself
To go with its flow
Even if sometimes, I felt like
I was an inexperienced surfer
Lost in the swells of raging seas
Or, at other times,
Like I was a miner
Treading further into dead ends
Rather than finding my way out!
For nothing matters to me
Other than acting out as the skies wished
Pray, love, when gifted from the Gods
Is surely meant to be kept on an altar
And venerated everyday
By watering it,
With crystal clear waters
So that it blooms and gets penned
Into a love story
Which shall be spoken about
By each and every soul
Visiting this mundane plane!
Searching for my pearl oysters,
once I dived into moving memories;
To win moments that were blissful,
once I was in the utmost coral reefs.
Have often dreamt that we are together,
in bleak nights sharing heats of our past;
At times, I see you passing by my side,
no wonder, with the same cold glance.
When I see you, I wish to erase you,
from my time, from my universe;
In your eyes, I see a merchant on a go,
selling mystic whims and tinted dreams.
All these years I was gathering rays,
sitting alone under azure sky;
To lighten up my darkened nights
in a cavern of forlorn sprites.
All these years I was picking moments
from the melting ocean of aeon;
At dusk, I too set with the sun,
with a hope to shine on a new morn.
Copyrights reserved @ DrNikhat Bano
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