Birds of a feather..

They enter the world a miraculous way,

Their force from within cracks the shell in which they lay,

And slowly edging out of their egg- home,

With bead like eyes, wings so small and a pale chrome.

 

Exposed to the world, they smile and go by,

Oft they fail, they succeed; always they try,

Under the watchful eye of guardians, ever so wise,

They be cared for, nurtured and given advice.

 

They grow and learn to build their nests,

Mother Nature puts them through trying tests,

Pugnacious and strong, they will to survive,

And they restore of what they’ve been deprived.

This little bird will someday learn to fly,

And to the world it has known, it will bid goodbye,

The day has come, failure doesn’t falter its hope,

It’s just a stepping stone on its success kaleidoscope.

And it spreads its wings, and lo! In flight,

The world just seems all the more bright,

The unfaltering spirit of this little being,

Is what guarantees its wellbeing.

Fierce and free, they soar to the sky,

Upwards always, onwards they fly;

Focused on their destination, guided by faith,

In the glory of the rays of the bright sun they bathe,

Never forgetting where they came from, but never looking back,

Finding shelter, building a new home, keeping secure from attack,

In the heat, in the cold, no matter what the weather,

Birds of a feather, flock together.

Words don’t do justice to what I feel..

The following poem is something that happened to me recently and I can’t really say how its changed me. I wrote this during a competition in which I secured the 3rd place.

Topic: WORDS DON’T DO JUSTICE TO WHAT I FEEL.

He wasn’t my favourite one, no. but he still meant the world to me,

He was the one who actually taught me to spell out my last name,

He, in an unimaginable way, defines me.

He loved his food, I loved food too,

I can see so much of myself in him.

With a toothless smile he would appreciate the cakes I’d make,

My father’s a replica of him, with the same arched back,

That I seem to have gotten as well.

My image of him was strong, and very soon that fell.

I used to pull his hair and massage his head,

I still remember the happiness the candy he got me brings,

More than anything, it was the smile he saw on my face,

That cheered him up more than anything.

My grandfather was a man of towering personality and ambition,

He saw the future like none of us saw it,

And what hurt me most of all was, this towering personality,

Was losing his zest, dying a little bit by bit.

Weak, fragile thin- as he lay there on his bed,

All I could hear were the ugly voices in my head,

And they whispered all the things I never wanted to hear,

They evoked in me all of my deepest fears.

How was I to know that was the last time I’d see him?

Words don’t do justice to what I feel,

But I wish I was with him right now,

And I wish I could feel his homely scent. I really hope I didn’t feel this way,

But I do- one too many times.

He spent most of his waking hours in prayer,

And the rest in making us smile,

And then he’d eat a huge meal, and sleep for a while.

I feel sad for my little cousins, who didn’t get as much time with him as they should,

I feel bad that inspite of being his eldest grandchild, I didn’t spend as much time with him as I could.

And when I received that call, that eventful morning,

Informing me that he passed away,

Words couldn’t do justice to what I felt,

There was nothing I could say.

I spoke to my father, in tears by then,

And asked him where it happened and when,

My father being a jolly man, was now

Subdued to the fewest words possible.

And then I called my grandmother,

We exchanged pleasantries and that was all,

I wanted to tell her so many things,

And that I knew she was strong.

After a 4 hour trip by road, I reached the home I hadn’t seen for 2 weeks.

Tears rushed into my eyes, guilt- to my heart.

I could have been with him in his last few hours,

But I stayed back and told them I was busy.

I wish I’d gone, I wish I did, now. But its all too late..

I entered the crowded home and saw as he lay there,

Nothing but a lifeless body wrapped in white.

I’ve never seen my father cry till that day,

Everyone I thought were strong were crying.

It was a heartwrenching sight.

All of us, proceeded in silence and carried out the rituals,

And when they took the body away for cremation,

It started raining and HOW!

Superstition has it that if it rains when the body is taken away from the home,

The man was one of a great soul.

I know everyone in my house believes this superstition now..

My grandfather, who has been an integral part in the upbringing of one of the most important people in my life, passed away of 14th February 2013. Thankyou for the Poppins you got me, thankyou for all those notebooks you gave my for college, thankyou for giving me your pens that I know you like so much and most of all thankyou for being in my life for so long. It took taking you away from us, to realize what you brought to our lives.. I miss you more than you can imagine, Achacha.

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