The latest on the blog.

So here is the latest news on the blog. As you might have noticed the name of the blog has been changed. The blog is now called Wandering and Pondering. The explanation for the name is given at the top.

A few lines of my poem Accusations of a Caged Leopard have been edited and modified. This was done after I received some feedback which alerted me to an instance where there was an improper use of language in the poem. Thank you for your valuable feedback. To check out the edited version of the poem please click on the link below  http://mukundpr-mytheories.blogspot.com/2010/06/poem.html

Warm regards to all of you,
Mukund

Poem: A Dog's Life

All photos courtesy Mukund P Rao

                     A Dog’s Life

Amongst the sights that you see oft,
Here is one I like a lot,
And pray if you enquire as to what it is,
Here would be my reply,
‘A dog with a dirty tail.’


Jeez!
What is it about a dog and its hind quarter,
That evokes in me such mirth and laughter?

Imagine yourself as a dog,
On a hot and dusty summer noon,
The sun is blazing; your throat is parched,
And your paws are scorched.
Then all of a sudden as though a gift from God,
Beside the road you spy a puddle,
And there you go and jump and play,
Maybe sit down and take a nap for the day.

Aah!
What bliss,
As you feel the coolness engulf you,
You look around and notice people envy you.

A strange joy spreads across my heart,
When I see a dog take such a delightful bath,
And especially when a dog all wet and wagging tail,
Comes upto you and drenches you like an upturned pail,

A Dog’s life on days such as these,
Is one of relative ease,
And I would quite willingly trade,
Our places, so that on that puddle I could have laid!

Mukund Palat Rao (September 7, 2010)
  

P.S: If you live in Delhi and are inspired by my poem, right now isn't exactly the best time to go and jump in a puddle and have a siesta there. Might end up with dengue. 

कविता

Here is my first try at writing poetry in Hindustani (Hindi + Urdu) which I feel is the lingua franca  of N. India and not the Sanskritised version of Hindi which a few people are trying to popularise now. 

Photo courtesy Mukund P Rao

 

ख्वाहिश

हम चल रहें हैं किस राह पर? 

भूमी और ज़मीन को कर दिया है हमने नष्ट 

बिना पानी के साथ कर रहें है हम कष्ट | 

अपने ज़रूरतों को समपूर्ण करने के ख्वाब में

सभी वृक्षों को हमने काट दिए  

और जानवरों को मार दिए | 

एक महापुरुष ने कहा था 

रखो तराज़ू के एक तरफ़ धरती और दूसरे पे सोना 

छोड़ देंगे हम धरती 

और चुनेंगे हम पैसा और सोना |

छोड़ देंगे हम धरती 

और चुनेंगे हम पैसा और सोना |

क्या हम असल में हैं इतने लालची?

अब  रही नहीं हम में अपने भूमी की फ़िक्र या परवा

बस हमें दिखता  है पैसों का जलवा |

जब हमारा जिस्म जल गया हो

तो इंसान कैसे रहेगा?

जब हमारा जिस्म जल गया हो

तो इंसान  कैसे रहेगा?

(तो  सोचिये फ़िर) जब हम  वातावरण को कर चुके हैं इतना प्रदूषित 

तो ज़मीन पर जीव-जंतु कैसे रहेंगे जीवित |

जब हम  वातावरण को कर चुके हैं इतना प्रदूषित 

तो ज़मीन पर जीव-जंतु कैसे रहेंगे जीवित |

येह तोह खुदा की मेहरबानी है  

कि सब दुर्घटनाएं अभी तक रहीं है सीमित|

पर वक़्त निकलता जा रहा है

और वक़्त-ए-बदलावट है अब

चलो मिले हम सब

अपनाये एक नयी दिशा और दृष्टी |

यह कठिनाई नहीं है सिर्फ़ हिंदुस्तान की अकेली

पर फ़िर भी मुझमे पूरा है विश्वास 

सभी मुल्कों के लोग मिलके करेंगे कुछ खास

और दो सो साल के बाद लोग सुनाएंगे यह पहेली

कि कैसे उनके पूर्वजों ने अपने बुरी आदतों के खिलाफ़ जंग जीत ली |

मुकुंद पालाट राव  ( १५ ऑगस्ट, २०१०)

Poem: A lady on the train

A lady on the train

Once upon an evening fair,
I hopped on a train once I’d paid my fare,
Beside the window there was a lady there,
All wild, unkempt and scraggly hair.

Some said she was mad,
Others insane,
She had a look that was quite inane.
I thought maybe in life she tried, failed and gave up in vain,
And this was a way to hide her pain.

It appeared as though she conversed with someone behind my back,
But I turned around to find no one there.
Who was it then she conversed with?
Maybe strange, lost forgotten friends,
Or perhaps old lovers, now no more?

I caught a waft of my neighbours’ talk,
Whispers of drugs and alcohol,
There I sat and tried to add it all,
But to me it made no sense at all.

What if she actually saw,
People behind me who weren’t there at all,
Was hers the reality I wasn’t living in,
Dead people, ghosts, elves and djinns.

Did she live on a higher plane,
Which made us mortals think her insane,
Perhaps all her troubles and fears were real.
And there were wounds too deep to heal.

All things that don’t conform to our ideals,
We have been taught to castigate,
To look down upon with disdain and hate.

However if we took a lighter stand,
Lent a listening ear, and a helping hand,
I think we’d be better able to understand,
The world is not just from where we stand.
Mukund Palat Rao (July 29, 2010)

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)