Holi and World Sparrow Day

March 20th happened to be both the festival of Holi and World Sparrow Day. So, here I am wishing you a very happy Holi.

The following post are few lines I composed on the occasion of the World Sparrow Day.
Regards,
Mukund

New Poem: On Sparrows: A Lament

On Sparrows: A Lament

Oft I’ve spied the sparrows play,

On a sunny morn in the month of May,

They go about flying and chasing each other,

Chirping, pruning and ruffling their feathers.

Upon the branches of a young pomegranate tree,

The have perched to enjoy the breeze,

Oh! And now into a puddle they dive,

And cavort and dance in groups of five.  

When I was a child and I watched the birds,

Their ubiquity meant that their calls were always heard,

And in their direction I scarcely glanced,

Forever in their state of playful dalliance.

Though now this passerine is not so common,

Maybe it’s phone towers, pesticides or pollution,

But I do know that I no longer see them as often,

And I miss the days they ate the grains in my garden.

Mukund Palat Rao (March 20,2011)

A happy birthday to the blog, albeit belated

I must confess that one year back when I started this blog on the thirteenth of February 2010, I scarcely expected to be blogging one year hence. Though here I am, one year and almost one month after my first blog entry presenting to you my new one. 

Each entry has been an unforgettable and memorable experience for me and,I thank you profusely for being a part of this journey which has been very special and dear to me.

With warm regards,

Mukund Palat Rao

Poem: The Road that I Seek

The Road that I Seek

Photograph courtesy Mukund P Rao

The Road that I Seek

I stand beside a road,

With fields of rice on either side of me,

And the road, it stretches as far as my eye can see.

It appears as though it’s late dusk,

Or it might be dawn; I’m not quite sure,

The mist is like a heavy drape all around,

And the light is faint and things barely perceptible.

All of a sudden I notice that there is a lady standing alongside me,

She queries as to what destination I seek,

I know not my reply and appear hesitant.

Then comes a bus,

One, then another and another,

I signal them to stop but they pay no heed to my calls,

I go and stand in the middle of the road and they pass right through me.

The places seem eerily familiar,

They remind me of a map which I had once seen a long time ago,

There being a path, over which the one must pass to be judged on Judgment day,

And the fields of paradise on one end,

And at the centre the throne of God.

I walk a little towards one end,

Then walk back in the opposite direction;

Unsure of where I go.

I turn back and the lady is still behind me,

I notice a bus coming in from the horizon,

The lady turns towards me and whispers,

‘Son, you must decide where you wish to go,

Only then can you go somewhere.’

I ponder over a her words of wisdom;

The bus has come and gone,

And my eyes trail its path;

Near its rear I spy a familiar figure,

And when I turn over the lady has disappeared,

I look back at the bus and see a face,

A lady smiling.

Another bus follows,

And I find myself inside it,

I am probed as to where I wish to travel to,

I reply,

And am told that the journey is long and arduous,

I shrug my shoulders and reply that I’m game.

I wake up,

It was a dream,

I look across to my left and glance outside the window,

It is still dark but there is a light on one end of the horizon,

I pray that it be a dawn and not dusk.

Mukund Palat Rao (February 28, 2011)

Poem: A Bridge across

A Bridge across

There you are,

And you have gone wandering,

And reach a road or railway line in your path,

Or a river you must cross,

Then it is a bridge you’d use to walk across.

Though bridges, they need not just be structures,

They signify a stark contrast that must be resolved,

Like the bridge between the rich and poor,

Or it might refer to a special connection,

Like the Bridge between two minds.

Bridges have always helped connect,

Anyone who may have wanted to travel across.

And they have been built for centuries,

Right from Lord Ram to cross the shore,

And later perfected by the men in Rome.

The started off as simple logs of wood,

And then advanced into beams, suspensions, arcs and cables,

A bridge is a symbol or transience,

A part of a journey from one place to another,

Taking an inspiration thus,

King Akbar has had engraved,

A quote at the Fathepur Skiri’s Buland Darwaza,

(His Gate of Victory),

"Jesus, Son of Mary (on whom be peace) said:

The World is a Bridge,

Pass over it, but build no houses upon it.

He who hopes for a day,

May hope for eternity; but the World endures but an hour.

Spend it in prayer, for the rest is unseen."

Mukund Palat Rao

(February 7, 2011)

P.S: King Akbar did have a lot many ideas, it is a pity though that not every one of them succeeded. A good example was the Din-i-Illahi which he proposed as a new syncretic order. 

The Latest (January 2011)

For long I have been using one of blogger's preset themes as my background. I felt it was high time I changed that and began using a photograph taken by me. So here I present to you the new theme of the blog. Besides the background change I have incorporated a few minor changes into to blog. There is an added option of sharing blog posts and rating them. Please feel free to tell me what you think.

Regards,

Mukund Palat Rao

New Poem: Carpe Diem

Carpe Diem

Here I am,

And I am running for I am late,

The sun has almost set, and I must reach my haunt in time,

I reach a bend by the stream and take my place,

The sky is a majestic eclectic mix of auburn, golden, red and blue hues,

And large ominous clouds have begun to appear in the sky,

Red on the eastern sunset end and dark on the other,

The sun is now barely visible through the trees,

It will be dark soon.

A herdswoman gathers her cattle behind me,

She clicks her tongue beckoning them to hasten,

But I continue to sit there impeding their path,

Some of them go quietly around me,

A calf looks at me curiously,

To my left on the branches of a dry semal tree the crows have gathered to roost,

Their chatter is cacophonic,

The calf comes closer and smells my jeans,

I do not wish that I scare her by moving,

She contemplates over whether it is edible or not,

And decides to have a try,

Denim isn’t quite her cup of tea,

It is bland and tasteless she decides,

She then loses her interest in me,

The herd has moved on and she hurries to join them.

There are a pair of red breasted king fisher hovering above the stream,

How about one more fish before a good night’s sleep?

The brahmini kites and eagles soar high in the sky,

The light is fast fading,

They have sharp vision,

But it might have become too dark for them to hunt prey today.

A laggard lone male calf still chews his grass behind me,

The herdswoman appears exasperated,

She races back with her stick,

Calling him,

Soon he’ll be a full grown bull,

Stately and regal,

Too strong for her to control,

She won’t be taking him on walks then,

And she’ll have to leave him behind in the barn.

An Imam commences his Salat-ul-maghrib namaz,

Calling the faithful to prayer,

His voice is lucid,

It doesn’t disturb me,

It is faint yet discernable,

In tune with the surroundings.

Twilight is fleeting,

Night is almost upon us,

A man comes cycling along the opposite bank,

Behind him paddy fields,

And the last of the Western Ghat mountains in the horizon,

Tall, imposing and commanding respect,

I watch his reflection,

As it cycles on and into the horizon,

Oblivious of me watching.

I get up now,

In five minutes it will be dark,

And I must return,

There is an aura of suspense in the air,

Powers beyond my control conspire causing night and darkness to befall.

I start walking,

Someone invites me into a temple,

I enter,

It is dedicated to snakes,

I pray to the idol,

‘May you help protect those to whom you have been dedicated to,

For they need you more than us’,

In the same vicinity some time back on the road I spotted a dead cobra,

It had been beaten and killed,

There was blood everywhere,

Its head had been smashed in,

May its soul rest in peace.

I break into a trot yet once again,

Through a road that was once a paddy field,

And now new houses have sprung up,

I too have contributed to it.

I overtake the herd of cows which had passed me,

They have left a trail of dung behind them,

In a village cow dung has a fresh earthy smell,

It is not as vile and disgusting as it is in a city,

Where it is full of plastic and half-digested waste,

I smile at the herdswoman,

And pat a cow as I move on.

Carpe diem,

Seize the day,

Or seize the moment,

A friend has oft told me,

But time, it flows past like a river,

How do I stop it?

Capture it or seize it?

The more I’ve tried the faster it has flown past,

Life is like a journey on a boat,

And I am rowing the boat down the stream of time.

Experienced boatmen will tell you,

You can never fight the river,

Just row along and enjoy it,

And that is your safest bet.

Mukund Palat Rao (January 14, 2010)

(Unfortunately I forgot to take my camera along with me today, so I've attached a few photographs I have at taken at the same place in the recent past)