Life is a wave,
smooth as a cave, if u want to save, ask lord as he gave. This was my outlook
of life I saw 10 yrs back. And since then frankly nothing had changed. Even
today I question almighty for my existence on this little planet Earth. And
have not received any reply from him yet. I have this habit of going to beach
whenever I am in distress and look up in the sky trying to make a conversation
about the things which fell apart in my life. One evening I was there at Marina
Beach with such a posture, and one gentleman accosted me and asked what was I staring
at for past 30 minutes. I was speechless at first and replied about this star, adjacent
to the Butterfly formation , which appears once in 25 years. He was startled at
my words . And guess what a group of 10 geeks joined in that futile search.
I am sure there is a poet in each of us . Some
of them have this innate ability to play with words, others master this art
with perfection and few like me refine this skill as years pass by. I do not
call myself a poet but rather someone who pens down short verses or
occasionally sonnets about things which matter to me the most. This hobby takes
its roots from my schooling .
I completed
my primary education till 6th grade in a Non-English medium school.
Later was put up in an ICSE affiliated school to finish the rest. On one hand I was thankful to my parents broad
vision on academic front , but on the other
I was petrified at such a thought. I had hard time comprehending even
the peer conversations , wouldn’t go into details about the class room
lectures. I was a silent spectator during those proceedings. Once my English
teacher asked me to review my answer sheet . I scored a dismal score of 1 out
of 15 in a comprehension passage. She asked me what’s wrong son? I replied back
saying all I was taught in my previous school was to look for question pattern
and search the words in the passage . And write down the answer with two lines
above it and below it . Even today I laugh when I think of those days. But my
poetry writing solaced me and in fact began in such formative age within those
walls.
My very
first poem goes like this. A man came in a van, asked for a coke can, switched
on the fan, later ordered a pan, but it is
on ban. This book right here is the
collection of poems I had written till now. Found it yesterday in my closet and thought it would be a nice to share few of
them with you today. Here is another one. Let me give the prologue on this. One
of my friend Catherine moved to states in my 8th grade. This is
about that incident. Every artist has a masterpiece. So I had one too which I
wrote in my 10th grade , and this sonnet earned me the title of Mr
Poet . It’s about Love. I had a crush on this girl I met at pani poori center one
evening and ever since my mind wavered in her thoughts. Titled “Who is She”, it
goes like this. This did the rounds
across the school and even my teachers started to ask Who is she . Anyway this
tryst did not last long enough and I will end with one final quatrain about the
moral I learnt . Love is an affection, pay lot of attention, till it gets to
perfection, at last leaves tension.
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