Inching Up Step by Step

"I got A+ in English, and aunty said very good for one of my essays," my son said with a broad smile. My heart jumped with joy. In the previous exam, the first he was writing in his 9 years of schooling as the initial years were in Montessori, he had shocked me when he said, "They asked me to write what I want to be in 20 years. I wrote, cricketer. What ma, they gave 20 lines to write! What am I supposed to write for 20 lines?"

I Pray

Photo courtesy: Srikant Ranganathan

I pray, I pray, I pray

For what?
The mortal body
That will leave us one day?


For health?
That will fail
As we slowly age?

For wealth?
Which we will leave
When our soul flies away?

A Tough Match

She swung her racket and then paused in disappointment. She had missed. The silence was deafening, accusing her of failure.

It was coming at her again and she swung again. This time, the crackling sound as the mosquito hit the electric racket brought a smile to her face.

Innocent, Who?

I was taking my customary evening walk a bit late in my apartment complex when a bunch of children came running my way. They were 8 years and younger, boys and girls, prancing around the complex in a carefree manner. My own children were upstairs, their curfew time starting earlier than that of these children.

One of the girls suddenly chimed, "Aunty, your son threw stones at us."

Demon-it-is-e

It has us in its vice grip
Making us spin and trip
Filling all our thoughts
That is all we ever sought

Green (Un)Cover

When I moved in to my current house 10 years ago, the adjoining campus - the backyard of the veterinary university off Mount Road - looked green. It had a rich fauna and flora. I woke up to the sound of deer clashing in friendly matches, kingfisher declaring its presence, woodpecker pecking away, treepie shouting 'cooollldrinks', snakes slithering around and parakeets protesting against its presence.

Today, it is barren as the trees have been cut to make way for the metro office. Though a PIL put a limit to how many trees can be cut, who is keeping track? Yesterday, a peepal tree was cut. The deer were relocated to another venue a couple of years ago. Birds come, but are less in number. God knows where the snake vanished to.

What price development, I wonder.

I know the land I live in also must have been a forest once upon a time. In the immediate past, though, a slum occupied this space.

It pains to think of the havoc man is creating in this world. Delhi apparently is covered by a thick smog, so much that people have been advised to stay indoors. Is Chennai going to go the same way?

What can we as individuals do to reduce the destruction of our environment? Invest in land less? Worry about the future less? Reduce our consumption of material things?

Time to think is past. It is time to act now.

Free and Flying

That leaf clinging to the tree
Struggles hard to break free
To toss and turn in the breeze
Playing, unmindful of who sees

No burdens, no thoughts
Not even that organ called heart
Just sheer joy and glee
Of feeling totally free

Oh to lose these heavy limbs
Not to be burdened by things
To roll and fly as I please
To play, just be, and to tease

Let the wind lend me wings
To drift with no strings
Go mind take some rest
Put all planning under arrest.