Poem

So with the memories of Delhi (college holidays) still in my mind, here is a poem inspired from a situation in the Delhi metro.














The tale of two ladies

They sat on either end of the aisle,
Exchanged an ever so polite smile,
(The lady on my left), had a look of wonder,
(Perhaps she thought), could she ever be like the one seated yonder.

A pair of netted stockings and a black leather pouch,
Accompanied by a low cut velvet blouse,
A shiny new silver mobile phone,
And a sparklin’ faux diamond brooch that shone.

On either hand there was a blue glove,
That covered the elbow and extended till a little above,
And then there was music on her i-pod’s ear phones,
(That to me seated beside her, sounded like a cacophonic drone.)

To complete it all there was red sling bag,
And a short blue jean, which was more of a rag.

Now I present the other maiden just as fair,
Perhaps she hailed from the dunes of the Thar.
She had big dangling silver rings on each ear,
And beautiful hazel eyes with a look so queer.

Atleast a fifty bangles adorned each tanned arm,
All in all it had a rustic village charm,
Her head was covered with the bright red choli she wore,
But her face was beautiful, of that I’m sure.

I imagine she felt,
A mixture of disapproval and admiration,
Disapproving the other girl’s poise,
Ánd her risqué attire,
But I’m think she was quite mired,
Because these were the very things she did admire

But as our little journey came to an end,
She too made her little conclusion.
‘Maybe in my English I falter,
And I do not wear such risqué clothes,
No doubt she is beautiful,
But I’m beautiful in my own way too!’
Mukund P Rao (July 22nd ’10)

The beauty of the night

The beauty of the night

(PART I)
There is a beauty in darkness,
It is mysterious,
It hides and only partially reveals,
It softens tones, and mellows stones.

There is a beauty in darkness,
You see the stars and the moon,
As you o’er your damsel swoon,   
And watch pebbles in a stream reflect the moon.


Light causes a naked exposure,
And things are best when not all is shown.
Romanticism starts only after dusk,
Once light has begun to sombre tones.

(PART II)
In the city there is always light,
As you look up at the sky at night,
All you see is a yellow light,
that to your eyes feels like a bite.

There isn’t a vision of black anymore.
In the days of yore,
The stars were uncountable,
But it ain’t so any more.

The smog and all the pollution,
Clog our vision,
And the perpetual lighting of our vibrant life,
Have caused our lives to be full of strife.

(PART III) 
I do wish I could run away,
Go back to the age of nine again.
In a village I watched all the stars that shone.
In the darkness of the night,

All you heard were the croaking toads,
And not a man was seen down on the roads.
Now the woods have gone,
And the jungle is all a concrete mess,

Every night at eight,
The lights come on and its day again.
Maybe go back to a time,
When night and day were different things,

Night always had a different charm,
As every night it told me new secrets.
My friend the Moon,
And my sister Venus,

Talked for hours on end, every night,
Until the sleep fairy came and said Goodnight, sleep tight.
Every night now when I look at the sky,
It is full of dust and smog and ash.

My old friends are still there,
But it is all now more of a haze.
I wish I could run back,
To a place where the night ain’t light, and burning bright!
Mukund P Rao
(July 10, 2010)


To read more about the problems night lighting causes please visit
http://www.nature.com/news/2010/100707/full/news.2010.339.html

Poem

 












Accusations of a Caged Leopard

In my sleep,
I begin to weep,
For I remember being in the wild,
Forever, with a hunger mild.

Here they feed me every day,
Dawn, dusk, night or day,
Give me all the choicest meats,
And when I’m good, lots of treats.

Back in the jungle I did not know,
What I’d eat till it’d show,
Sometimes I’d wait days and days,
When in a daze, I’d spy a rabbit’s face.

And then I’d leap and chase and dart,
Until the rabbit was a dinner tart,
Now in my cage I just sit and sleep,
And dream about my days in a forest deep.

And,
Everyday I pace up and down,
In my cage with a lonesome frown
My life is confined to an eight by four,
And sleeping on a metal floor.

First they came and cut the trees,
I saw and said I came in peace,
Needed to go two miles south,
To the forest by the river’s mouth.

Instead they threw their sticks and stones,
And betwixt all my painful moans,
With a needle came a man and made a jab,
And took me for tests in a lab.

Now here I am in Central Zoo,
Better known as exhibit two,
And,
Everyday I pace up and down,
In my cage with a lonesome frown
My life is confined to an eight by four,
And sleeping on a metal floor.

Mukund P Rao (June 3, 2010)

Name change and a hiatus

The name of the blog has now been changed from 'Random Observations and Theories' to 'Thoughts and Theories'. I felt that 'Thoughts and Theories' is more apt as a title because of my poetry becoming a major component in the blog. When I started the blog I  didn't intend to write so much poetry but now that I do, I think the word Thoughts is better than Random Observations.

Due to my exams, which commence next week I will not update the blog for a  period of 2 weeks. Lots of you have said I've filled your facebook inbox with unread messages. So here is time to read the blog..

      

Poem: A flash of light

A flash of light

You hide a little, behind a misty cloud,
And then all of a sudden light the world,
And then go back,
and hide again.

The tension in the air is palpable,
The rustling if the leaves,
And the dancing of the trees,
all indicate you presence,

Then again you reveal yourself,
Flash another million watts,
Whilst I searched for the perfect timing,
You moved on and I missed another shot.

Our relationship is always an up and down,
Sometimes the timing is perfect,
Just like the lips coming together before a kiss.
On the other hand sometimes it’s a total miss.

When I try to capture you,
You grin at me from behind my back,
And by the time I turn,
You are no longer there.

Dear Lightning!
We always tend to try and control everything,
But you remind me,
How things are always unpredictable,
But with patience love and dedication,
In the end you’ll always get the perfect shot.

Mukund P Rao (April 29)



(P.S Here are a few of my efforts to photograph lightning. Unfortunately my camera hasn't been working the past few months but with the rains here tonight, I felt this urge to take pictures. Thus the poem.) 

The Curious Case of a Dog's Pronouns

Ever noticed the difference in a person who owns pets or likes animals and person who does not own a pet. The difference lies in the pronouns they use. A person who owns a pet will generally refer to a pet by using the correct sex. For example if you own a dog and a guest comes comes over. If the guest also owns a pet they would ask you, 'What is her/his name?' On the other hand if a person who doesn't own a pet comes then they'd say, 'What is its name?'

It is very easy to figure decipher if someone owns a pet or not because for a person who does own one, the pet is always a part of the family. So the pet/animal would always be referred to by the appropriate pronoun  which is either he or she.

Poem-Mukund P Rao

Back where I belong..
A long time ago,
I was here,
but ‘twas so long ago,
my memories are now like mist and fog.
 
But in that blur I do remember,
green grass and an ol’ wooden house,
and also a scary one sided bridge,
over a stream into which I thought I’d fall.
 
After thirteen years when I do go back,
to the place I once belonged,
so much has changed,
but yet, some of it has remained the same.
 
A weird sense of déjà vu passes upon me,
I feel I have been here before,
but it was so long ago,
I don’t remember most things anymore.
 
The house is there,
in shambles,
the stream is there,
all dry.
 
All the green has turned to yellow,
and the trees are now all dry.
I feel the sun blazing down upon me,
and feel I just might cry.
 
Through the neglected fields I walked,
through which I once had run, I heard a cello behind me,
as it played a sad welcoming song.
reminding me that I was back where I belonged.
 
Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here,
and let the sepia memories remain faded,
so that all things would be as I imagined,
and the truth I never would see.
 
On the other hand maybe,
'twas good I went.
To see for myself how things really were,
and then comfort myself and say,
‘I have seen the glory days’.


Mukund P Rao
April 18, '10