Weekday blues

Cramped shoulders, 

Tired hands,

Exhausted mind,

Difficult week,

But boy isn’t it weekend yet?

Never ending deadlines,

Overbearing demands,

Limited rewards,

Too many tasks,

But boy isn’t it weekend yet?

Sleepless nights,

Early wake up calls,

Constant virtual meetings,

And no consensus,

But boy isn’t it weekend yet?

Finally weekend arrives,

Self care mornings,

Good night cuddles,

Family unions,

And back to square,

Oh boy weekend is over.

Human touch

In the world of AI chat bots and what nots,
I crave for human touch everlasting and soft,
As well as someone who listens with no filtered thoughts,
And understands with no added cost,
While I share my stories of angst and dreaded thought.

The Stage Fright

She fumbles,

She trembles,

Her heart pounds,

At the thought,

Of facing people,

Known and unknown.

Her feet is getting colder,

With every passing minute,

She may turn into ice sculpture,

If she stayed longer.

Her heart is dancing,

To tunes of fear,

While she watch her competitors,

Articulating their speech,

With par excellence. 

She wants to escape,

From embarrassment,

And thoughts of what they will say,

When she will speak,

In front of crowd,

That may swallow her,

With their icy stares.

Her name is called, 

Her heartbeat stops,

She freezes,

And then with little courage ,

She rises to face.

Her mouth is dry,

Her mind is blank,

As she glances,

At empty stares of large audience.

Finally ray of hope strikes,

A new found energy arrives,

Fear loses and she wins,

As she speaks the words, 

Of her own,

To the people,

Known and unknown.

Hope

Hope is optimism,

Of a spiritual enlightener,

Distributing faith,

Believing one day ,

He would revive faith ,

In ignorant soul.

Hope is anticipation,

Of an anxious child,

Wishing his teacher doesn’t arrive ,

To check his incomplete assignment.

Hope is excitement,

Of expecting mother,

Eager to meet her unborn child,

She has held,

For nine tiring months.

Hope is belief,

Of a soldier’s wife,

Praying for his life,

Day and night,

As he protests his nation,

From any attack from enemy.

Hope is expectation,

Of an old woman,

Waiting each day,

For her son’s call,

To hear his voice,

And check if he’s fine .

Hope is longing,

Of a lover,

Missing her beloved,

Separated by distance,

As well as pandemic lockdown.

Hope is desire ,

Of daughter in law,

To be accepted,

By her new family,

Without any judgements,

And expectations.

Hope is yearning,

Of an avid job seeker,

Assuming one day,

His talent would be recognised,

Instead of experience.

Hope is everything,

That drives one’ passion,

Towards goal,

One sets in life.

Little Hanuman and the exotic fruit

The little Hanuman,

With big wide eyes,

Stares at the sun,

In amazement.

"Is it fruit ?",

He wonders,

While he drools,

Over the thought,

Of having a bite.

He flies,

Towards the sky,

After the delicious fruit,

For a bite.

The sun,

Afraid and Anxious,

Took shelter of the mighty Indra,

The King of Devtas.

The little Hanuman,

Unfazed by the might,

Of Lord Indra,

Thought Indra's elephant,

As a toy.

He lunged forward,

Only to be pushed,

By mighty Indra,

With his thunderbolt.

Little Hanuman's face bloated,

And Vayu, the wind God got alarmed,

At the sight of Little Hanuman,

Wincing in pain.

He carried him,

And locked himself,

In a cave,

In despair.

The animals started dying,

The plants began withering,

And Gods became anxious,

Thus they gathered outside the cave.

They prayed,

They begged,

They appealed,

For Lord Vayu,

To come out of the cave.

The Gods blessed little Hanuman,

With strength and prosperity.

With knowledge and wisdom.

With power and immortality. 

Lord Vayu was pleased,

And his despair turned into joy,

Letting the mortals breathe in ease,

And making all the Gods happy.

Little Hanuman blessed and happy,

Returned home,

To arms of his loving mother.

An Old fetish

He watches with wide eyes,

That delicate juicy jalebis,

On the big TV screen,

Displaying continuous commercial ads.

His mouth slurps,

His heart longs,

For one small bite,

Of his favorite sweet.

The sweet smell,

Of freshly fried jalebis,

Lingers in his mind,

While he watches the commercial ad.

He turns his gaze,

To his loving daughter,

Working on her laptop,

With two minds,

On how to share his desire. 

He remembers the good old days,

At the sweet shop few blocks away,

Where he would endlessly stare,

At that delicate juicy jalebis,

And bring home many boxes of them.

Suddenly bell rings,

His daughter opens the door,

Gets a familiar looking box,

And serves it on a plate,

For overly excited him.

Isolate

Isolate yourself,
From toxic filled thoughts,
That are like big dark clouds,
Hiding your sunshine.

Isolate yourself,
From negative people,
Who are road blocks,
On your path to success.

Isolate yourself,
From constant frustration,
That pulls you,
Away from your goal.

Isolate yourself ,
From unnecessary worries,
That drowns you,
Into ocean  of despair.

Isolate yourself,
From anxieties ,
That cripple your abilities,
To fly.

Isolate yourself ,
From illness,
That has spread across the world,
Like wildfire,
Crippling the economies,
And taking away thousands of lives.