A garden on pillars, caressed by winds,
was built by a king, using best minds.
With fish in it's central pond,
it faced the lake and hills beyond.
The princess was a bright star,
who shone in the eyes long and far.
They say when she stepped in the balcony,
the city gathered to see her play with her pony.
A slave once, took to mutiny.
To glance the princess, he could go to infinity.
After climbing ramparts and avoiding guards,
he stood before her, with a hand on his heart.
The gorgeous and shy blushed so like beam,
the flowers there dimmed in a team.
Love again played peculiar,
royalty had fallen for a servant of his valour.
But before he could dream of the crown,
a dozen swords appeared, and the king with a frown.
Brave blood spilt all over the place,
the royal balcony was closed after that case.
Today that blood has dried,
the palace is abandoned and cursed,
by the tears she cried
and was forced to be the others bride.
Sagher
'Janm se pehle usne karna sikha tyaag,
Nar banke janm lena tha jiske bhaag.'
Take a middle-class family into consideration. It usually consists of four members; Man, wife, daughter and a son. Man earns, wife administrates the household, the daughter buds under the attention and teachings of all and the son, we can say, 'prepares himself.'
A son is the next man of his house. From his tender years, he learns to face the world and deal with it, support the household, assist his father, etc. This eventually incorporates a feeling of selflessness in him. He begins to focus his attention more towards the betterment of his closed ones, their happiness and comfort. Concentrating on self is reduced and this matures a son to a 'stage of divinity' or the stage of sacrifice.
When his sister gets overjoyed on receiving a pair of elegant
ear-rings, there are two precious tears of happiness in his eyes on seeing her. When a tired father leaves an important work incomplete in order to complete his sleep, and when he finds the same work done the next morning, much of his stress gets avoided. Someone burnt the night-lamp and did it. When his sister is married off and everyone is busy consoling the father, someone runs into a corner to weep and sob. A son can be rightly called the unseen string of the family who silently holds everyone together.
It is appreciable how he pillars his family's reputation before other people, hides the grievances tactfully and heartily promotes the feelings and interests of his closed ones.
When he gets married, the first thing in his mind is bread-winning for his entire family. As the amount of responsibility on him increases, his back bends but determination doesn't. He plans for the future of his offspring and also for his ageing parents. Even at places for amusement, he is continuously worrying about his family, so that they can enjoy properly.
But then, where is his life, dreams and aims?..... They wind up in a single aspect, 'duty'.'He hides his pain in a smile,
a smile which keeps you joyous.
His joy is in sacrifice,
a sacrifice so stupendous...'Sagher
I wake up to a sight entwined,
of an unstable odyssey in a regime divine.
The line where my knowledge ends,
an assertion pulsates within the mind,
“This Nation Was Once Mine.”
With Martyrdom coming as a jest,
and the remains delivered late to their nests,
are we safe at the drawn borders,
after those keepers were gunned down like pests?
Who is the bridge between,
the growers and the receivers keen?
For each grain is tagged by the critics,
for a rupee or twelve,
putting starvation in a fix.
Reputed feminine which reports,
ambitious feminine which is a sport,
meet the 'sand' consequently,
one with her morality,
the other goes off her post.
Hidden are those forests,
where still taboo with religion rests.
But the wolves never fail to strike,
whenever shot up are any protests.
Mother destiny! You planted my seeds,
not in one land, but amid breaking beeds.
Where at the cost of other lives,
folklore wishes to draw lines for its needs.
The one who strives with ball and bat,
gets peanuts as a matter of fact.
Here all one needs to be an icon,
is a mentality to merge with “the secret auction”.
The streets for which I pay and commute,
need a repair quick and absolute.
But I read the authority finds social networking,
to be a significant and primary substitute.
A day I foresee, when the accounts of my life,
will total up to nothing encouraging.
With the falling value of currency going rife,
I might soon find my pulse fading.
Alas! This fraternity expects returns,
from my end to be firm.
When I opt for an initiative,
my steps are trudged behind for somebody's motive.
Death will approach someday,
and laugh at my lost hay.
But then, can I die in a peaceful spate,
after the sheds for cremation fell in rate?
I wake up to a sight entwined,
of an unstable odyssey in a regime divine.
The line where my knowledge ends,
an assertion pulsates within the mind,
“This Nation Was Once Mine.”
Sagher
