Running Between The Wickets!

India’s World Cup victory in 1983 ignited passion for cricket in me. As I watched Kapil Dev taking that legendary catch off Vivian Richards, I vowed that I will one day play the World Cup finals by myself.

This is the story of my passion for running between the wickets……

I saw that match,

That wonderful catch,

Which sent Viv Richards out,

In that all important bout…..

I saw him hold the cup,

With flow of champagne and wine,

And got shivers,

Down my spine…

Took out my bat and ball,

In a moment, was joined by my pals

Playing with a rubber ball,

We drew stumps on the wall…..

We played day and night,

With all our will and might…..

I dreamed of holding the bat,

One day, on international mat……

I shall put the pitch on fire,

In Lords, Oval, and Lancashire….

I shall send Imran for a six,

And put Aussies in a fix…….

I shall hold the cup again in hand,

India will rule the 22 yards land….

But when I grew,

It was entirely a different view….

I did well in the game,

Got some name and fame,

I took good catches,

And won a few matches….

“He is good with bat,” the word spread,

But my dad sternly said,

“The pen, and not the bat,

will fetch you your bread”…….

Pen is mightier than the bat, I was told,

And pen was the thing I went on to hold…..

The stumps, bat and ball,

Lay in a corner of hall…..

Then one day…………..

I saw the old stumps,

And got goose bumps……

The bat came to life,

And ball ready for a strife……….

I called up a few old chaps,

Who all came wearing white caps…..

The world around me changed,

As the stumps were arranged…….

As I hit the ball,

Over boundary-wall,

I realize, this is something,

Which was my true call…….

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Don't Hate The Mask!

This week’s Prompt......

Mask and masks, masks everywhere. What is it that the mask tries to hide? put it in prose poem, poetry, micro-poem, haiku or anything lyrical.

Mask on me, mask on you,

None can tell, who is who!

Mask on him, mask on her,

Masks come in various, colour and calibre!

Mask on the face, mask on the eyes,

Mask for the naive, mask for the wise!

Masks are long, masks are round,

If worn well, they give power abound!

Masks are enticing, yet masks are trap,

Look, there’s one, down the white cap!

Mask on the truth, mask on the lie,

With a mask on face, you never feel shy.

You loved your mask, but was love your mask?

I never knew, chose not to ask!

Don’t hate masks, masks aren’t sin,

‘cause without your mask, you can’t win!

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I am On Indiblogger

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The Magnificent Vizag Of The East

The God made the land,

The sea and the sand

He created grass frills,

The dessert and the hills

After having done his best,

He decided to take some rest

He wanted to sit and relax,

At a place where pleasure is max

He wanted sea to wash his feet,

While he sat where the earth and sky meet

He wanted breeze to soothe,

While he lays on white sand so smooth

He wanted it not hot nor cold,

A place where the beautiful live with bold

So the God created Vizag……………

A City of Destiny,

A notch above many

He then sat on the hill,

To rest at his will

Where the sea washed his feet,

He basked in the greens so neat

This heavenly place in the east,

Makes every other place look least

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The Lines Which Moved Me!

I was in my middle school when I came across these lines by Robert Frost. A chill went down my spine as I read them......

          Image Courtesy photoshelter.com

     The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

     But I have many promises to keep,

     And miles to go before I sleep.

And I got goosebumps as I  translated these to Hindi...... 

      गहरे और सघन ये वन,

      मुझे निभाने कई वचन,

      इससे पहले कि करूँ शयन,

      है मीलों करना मुझे भ्रमण.  

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This post is written on the prompt provided in Indispire in  Indiblogger

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रोटी !

It’s the food which makes people toil in fields, offices, factories and behind glass-cabins. It’s the food over which wars are fought. It’s the food over which revolutions erupt and Czars get killed. It’s the food which connects us to God....

रोटी की चाहत में ही पहाड़ चढ़े जाते हैं,

रोटी की चाहत में ही युद्ध लड़े जाते हैं ।

रोटी के झगड़े में ही ताज लुढ़क जाते हैं,

रोटी की ताकत से ही तख्त पलट जाते हैं ।

रोटी की माया से ही महल खड़े होते हैं ,

रोटी की छाया में ही स्वप्न बड़े होते हैं ।

रोटी की गरमी से कुछ हृदय पिघल जाते हैं,

रोटी के मिलने से कुछ भाग्य बदल जाते हैं ।

रोटी की राहों पर कुछ दोस्त बिछ्ड़ जाते हैं,

रोटी की चाहों पर कुछ स्वप्न बिखर जाते हैं ।

रोटी की माया पर कुछ ग्रंथ पढ़े जाते हैं,

रोटी की महिमा पर कुछ काव्य गढ़े जाते हैं ।

रोटी के आटे से माँ के हाथ सने रहते हैं,

रोटी की छाया में ही परिवार बने रहते हैं ।

Image courtesy-National Geographic.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . .  .  .

Roti is universe. How? Read here

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The Candle-in-hand Protester!

Give me a candle, give me a place out,
Give me a reason to shout aloud!

Give me a poster, give me a banner,
And I am ready to protest in any manner!

What if a girl gets harassed on road,
She's not my sis, nor my miss.
But tell me when the protests erupt.
I'll be there with a candle in hand,
Posing for the media cam!

Accident victim on the way? I prefer to look away.
He is in a pool of blood, I watch from afar.
But don't take him in, Can't spoil my car.
But tell me when its time to protest,
I'll be there with a candle, looking my best!

A candle in one hand and a selfie cam in the other
Marching my way to Jantar Mantar!

Give me a candle, show me a place out,
Give me a reason to shout about!

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