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Written by Mythily
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Proverb "new broom sweeps well"
Doesn't it rhyme with new groom weeps well?
The backdrop of this I have come here to tell
On this day of a new couple's wedding bell
The boy looks learned and handsome
Justifying his parents demanding a lump-sum
From girl's parents - and like Shylock suck their blood cell
And!! the boy to this remains dumb
The girl to her parents tells with tears
That she has of the boy's people her own fears
That "those" would never be her dears
Thus she about their badness doubtlessly clear
The girl's parents get a shock of their life
Yet decide that "she" would be "his" wife
No matter if she were to face the end of knife
That she has to boldly face the strife
The girl takes a new stand
To teach a strong lesson to "his" parents' demand
She plans to avenge the boy - nay the entire such band
With pretension of timidness she enters his land
The ceremonious three knots are tied
That they make an ideal pair, by none, is denied
Both parents glow in cheer as "pooris" fried
Gifts and money are faithfully transferred to the boy's side
The first night the boy's long awaited dream
Comes silently bringing his angel with fragrant cream
"He" - to her "pawn broker" does seem
With heart felt misery she does scream
He tries to hug her with gestures of love
Reminding her of the ceremonious vow
He has taken when before Agni he did bow
His role, he says, starts from now
She escapes out of his clasp with a frown
She says "I see you no better than an idiotic clown
Because you are a male you can't wear a crown"
Hearing this, his face out of guilt turns brown
Adds she "you are so well read"
"Aren't you confident of earning our bread?"
"And keep your parents in their old age well fed?"
"Get me answers for these and then we will go to bed."
"Why were your parents in their demand so cruel?
My parents' peevish "yes" - To these added to fire some fuel
Aren't you ashamed to beg from those who have just enough for their gruel"
Henceforth we shall be individuals dual
With this she gives a deep deep sigh
The truth in her queries he cannot deny
To all atrocities that he has been a silent witness he cannot lie
To identify herself with such a boy she feels ashamed and shy
Thus goes the sad story of the boy's first night
The boy who could not against injustice bravely fight
He has proved himself a "vulturous" kite
He has lost forever marital life's delight
Oh readers, don't dismiss this as a mere rhyme scheme please!
Ensure you are member not one of "these"
That your concepts on these are clear with no crease
That to take a life mate you would levy no fees
Only then you both can be like bread and cheese |
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Written by Shrinaath Chidambaram
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The train was moving ever so slowly,
There was still a place for me in it.
The excitement was tremendous, the expectations great
That, I just didn't care to sit.
I reached for the nearest window
To see India and all its glory!
Alas, the first thing I saw was the slums
Every soul living there and its sad story.
As the city went by and fresh air blew past me,
Brightness was promised in the country side
Yet, parched lands and dry lakes were all I saw
I began to wish I wasn't on this ride.
I closed the window and looked around;
The train was overcrowded with people so many
Naked children and worried mothers, all hungry.
Helpless as I was, it caused me great agony.
Suddenly, I was in a long tunnel;
There was complete darkness all around.
Is this the real India, I wondered,
Could its glory be ever again found?
It definitely could be, I reasoned
It's possible if I start to fight.
Join in friends, inaction is our only foe.
Victory's in sight, the tunnel ends in new light. ---Shrinaath Chidambaram
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Written by Ravi Kuchimanchi
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I don't remember, but
when I opened my eyes
to the wonders of earth,
I must have seen in my mother
a trace of fear.
Lovable that I was,
she must have hugged me
before she wept.
I don't remember, but
anxiously from face to face
I must have looked
for the sight of my father
as friends and family
came to see me arrive.
In the end I don't remember
but before I slept,
I must have thought
the man who kissed my mom
must be my father.
And that night when the
neighbours came, to tell
my mom that I would die
in my sleep, I don't
remember but I must have
tried to comfort her,
told her I'd be okay,
and asked her not to weep. --Ravi Kuchimanchi | Below 5-year mortality rates: | India: 122 per 1000 per year.
Sri Lanka: 19
USA: 10
Kenya 90
Ethiopia: 204 |
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Written by Ravi Kuchimanchi
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We boast of a glorious past,
of a land of original thinkers,
The site of the greatest revolution,
The minds of the deepest philosophy,
The soil from where religions sprouted
and the preachers of non-violence.
Where the swords of anger
melted before a gospel of love,
Where the bullets of the then savage British,
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