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The Beauty of ‘The Incomplete’

We give such high importance to COMPLETION

Completion of a task, a project, a process, a relation

Why the thrust on completion?

Don’t you agree

A poem reads well even if the last verse is still in the poet’s mind

Only the chef knows that the mustard in the recipe is missing

A designer sulks about a small motif that looks out of place

A painter knows that the orange should have been darker

The runner knows that he finished 30 seconds later than yesterday

The entrepreneur knows that his actual profit target was 20% higher

Only the homemaker knows that there are some clothes that are soiled and creased

Let us delve a little deeper

Incomplete love is more intense than a perfect love story

The half-moon looks as calm as the full moon

A bud is as delicately beautiful as a fully bloomed-flower

The Sun spreads light even when hidden behind the clouds

A rainbow looks as pretty in a little glimpse as in seeing it end to end

The truth is that the incomplete in our life is complete for the world outside. If we sum up all that is incomplete, we will understand how good life has been to us.

Does that mean that we should leave things halfway?

NO

It simply means that we should learn to celebrate the incomplete as much as we rejoice for the COMPLETE in our lives because life happens in the journey, not at the destination.

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Be like the moon

 

Why seek attention? It’s simply not worth

Does the moon ever insist for the morning earth?

Why speak and act different, to grab that little span?

Is the night sky less beautiful with its moon-star clan?

Why feel low when the limelight eludes?

Do no moon days not promise a full moon new?

Why spread the bitterness about the illusionary less?

The moon gets unasked attention for its purity and calmness

Will the forced affection make you feel any better?

I asked the moon and it said, “I simply shine, rest doesn’t matter!!”

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Wish to be a child again

She revisited her childhood
Her building, those bi lanes
Everything had redeveloped
Drastic changes felt insane

She looked around smiling
As if searching for some clue
Her friend’s window pane
The shop with the board in blue

She went to the spot where
Some grains made pigeons flutter
A high rise had come up and
Oh my!! The road, so cluttered

She went to her bus stop broken
A new bench had been put there
She wondered whether her name
Still lied scribbled somewhere

The small garden where she played
Was nowhere to be seen?
Instead a stylish school stood there
With gadget stricken teens

She walked ahead to the spot
Where she first met her first love
A tea vendor served tea
Small cups and a big stove

Mindlessly she walked, reached the end of the road
A big banyan tree felt like her lost abode
She grinned as she saw the tree
She hugged it, felt so free

Yes you are still here not everything’s gone
I finally found something after searching for long

She sat below the tree and gestured her son
This is where your mother hid from the sun
This is where she ran to escape the heavy fall
The only memory from my childhood that still stands tall

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A casual evening


She sat by the window to spend time introspecting and writing

The air was cold; the trees were still, the weather simply amazing

She spotted two birds playing and swaying, one soaring the sky

In the neighboring window an elderly man sipping on hot chai

On the small road below a few teenagers chattered their way along

Two women engrossed in talking may be deciding right or wrong

Clouds were swiftly on the move, the skies dull white and celestial

A young woman, with a bag was headed to buy some essentials

Few kids were down, running and challenging, riding their bicycles

Yellow and white butterflies in the garden flew in motions cyclical

She sat there waiting for her bright introspective idea to arrive

And smiled as the authenticity of daily life bought her poem alive

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The daily dose of news..

What does a newspaper carry these days
A lot on politicians and their maligning ways
A little more on the same as experts say

Something on progress and its effects
A little on why and whom the PM has met

Probing a high profile death- suicide or crime
Cornering all except the suspects prime

Reports on Minority clashes of varying degrees
Making one wonder is the world really free??

Exciting is the sports section that they run
But fixing and doping make the win an illusion

Lifestyle and travel pages are glamorously affluent
For a common man nothing much is meant

The smallest section is for positive teachers
Rape and murder is a mandatory feature

Vague insignificant news follows next in line
Transparent washrooms and capsule dines

Reading a paper is an endless search in the woods
For something hopeful, encouraging and good

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Lock down hopes

The cities and countries will soon revive

All of us, our hustle – will bring them alive

Nothing is etched, continuous and forever

Change is the only constant, don’t fear

Kids will play hide and seek like before

Business will resume, markets will soar

Days will get busier and full once again

But what we faced mentally, will always remain

When it’s flowing, the same water can’t be touched twice

The ups and downs however do make us wise

Peace and contentment is the call of the Universe

If we work inclusive, it may never get this worse

With this let us wait to begin in full flare

But this time with simplicity, affection and care

As of now please curtail and completely abide

Nature will soon be on our side

Nature will soon be on our side

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Hashtag Lockdown

My world has shrunk, it’s gone so small

How less i need confined in the four walls

Nothing is compromised be it taste or lifestyle

The house chores look seemingly worthwhile

The creative spirit keeps calling all day long

There is time to play, sit and hear a song

Fitness goals stay the same with altered means

I  love the golden sunshine, the sparkling sheen

I think, live and feel as simple as i can

Surprisingly i have caught up with the new plan

All the time spent is with family and self

How far i have come this way, sometimes I dwell

It also comes to me, is this how we were meant to be?

It also comes to me, that soon I may meet a new me

We all want it to end, even I feel like all of you

But the lock down has definitely changed my world view

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Nature’s Agenda


Nature’s original idea was to keep us in a flow
Routine, simple, pleasant but slow

Gradually we all started a race
We chased, we ran, we increased the pace

Objects were invented to facilitate the flow
We adapted, we changed, always on the go

No pause to wander, no moment to exclaim
No time to interpret, why keep each day same?

We hustled, we stressed in our quest to grow
Always rushing to the next task in the row

But all this time we spent in a foolish propaganda
Because this was not Nature’s original agenda

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The Soul String

There is this thing in the Universe which calls upon you

It tells you to not tear apart, rather mend and sew

It pushes you to not give up, keep going you will find

At the end of it you will get it, it would be a worthy grind

It asks you to let loose, take each moment one by one

It shouts out saying that serving others can also be fun

It reminds you of the goodness that surrounds you all the time

Staying in gratitude, appreciating – will not cost you a dime

It requests to seek the higher purpose for which we all exist

It pleads to open the palms, why keep a closed fist

What is this ‘It’ that calls upon us every single time?

It’s the soul string that connects you to another soul sublime..

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My child is average

My child is no genius, he is simply average

Are marks and degrees the only means to gauge?

He draws so well, he can paint his mind

He is virtuous, noble and very kind

He is updated about the current affairs

Through his telescope at the stars he stares

He is a great chef, he makes lovely tea

He teaches orphans after office, for free

He follows football, and is a basketball player

He just made a sketch of the city mayor

He wants to learn dance, yet to decide which form

He is learning languages, you know ‘Madre’ means mom

When he acts on the stage, you can’t help but applause

He pens articles, poems, seldom with flaws

On weekends he participates in social initiatives

The list goes on, he is energetically creative

Your doubt is right, how can my son be so talented?

But these are the voices of all the moms who relented

All the moms who accept, “Yes my child is average.”

Coz marks and degrees are no means to gauge