सरस्वती वंदना

February 27, 2015

माँ शारदे! तेरे चरणों मे हम शीश नवाते हैं,

श्रद्धा भाव से हम पुष्पहार चढाते हैं I

आशीर्वाद दो ऐसा सद्भाव उमड़ आए,

दर्शन दो ऐसा, दुर्भाव उड़न हो जाए II

सदमार्ग अपनाएँगे, संकल्प उठाते हैं,

माँ शारदे! तेरे चरणों मे हम शीश नवाते हैं II

यदि दुर्गड़ों पर चले, तो दुत्कार हमे देना,

परमार्थ हम याची है, आशीर्वचन देना II

ज्ञान मार्ग पर चले सब राही, तेरे दर पर आते हैं,

माँ शारदे! तेरे चरणों मे हम शीश नवाते हैं II

वचन हमे दो माँ , यह लोक मुस्कराये,

दिव्य जोत से ये, जीवन जगमगाए II

अभिमान मे न डूबे, ये आशीर्वाद मांगते हैं,

माँ शारदे! तेरे चरणों मे हम शीश नवाते हैं II

शरण तुम्हारी रहते हैं माता, हम बालक तुम्हारे हैं,

इस कर्म भूमि मे माँ, पताका तुम्हारी लहराते हैं,

कुछ भी नहीं अपना, बस ऋढ चुकाते हैं,

माँ शारदे! तेरे चरणों मे हम शीश नवाते हैं II


February 27, 2015

This is capital city, Delhi;

Nation’s heartless, concrete jungle,

Where ideas puff out toxic fumes,

Furnace of dreams and civilizations;

Where emotionless, blank,  humans dwell.

Where conspiracies are  hatched in graves,

And bless the brute neo-riches,

Manufactured by Lalus, Mulayams, Mayas.

But the people in rags  and tatters,

Cultivated by Kejris, Medhas, Marx, Lohiyas;

Running for freebies and rot;

Making them perpetual beggars.

Here lies the never ending clusters,

Illegal, unauthorized;

Filled with mud, filth and fumes venomous.

Inhibited by souls lethargic, languid;

Always stare things beautiful and luxurious;

But all for free.

Smoke, filth, mud, dirty water;

Turned their belly into an inferno,

Ready to swallow every thing.

Here painted maidens smile,

For a price and gratification.

Vice is honored as merit,

But merit dies unknown, unattended.

And we are moving in a lorry,

Whose driver is an impostor beguiled as crusader.

N.B: This poem is a sarcasm on the politics of populism and freebies in India and voter’s greed for freebies and ignoring the patriotism, nationalism and national and social interest. Such politics was played by NGO activist Shri Arvind Kejriwal, who got very strong and unparalleled mandate.

Scholar and the Wanderer

February 24, 2015

Scholar, curious but very lovable;

May be divine chance or my good luck;

Attired simply but gracefully, top to toe,

Words she choose were decent but meaningful;

Enough to mesmerize a poet or a saint.

But blames her best self,

For weight, colour, height: all fragile,

But never loved her gifts and beauty;

Anchored  like dawn’s radiant gates,

Cannot be taken by time nor space.

Love and care, a celestial gift;

Hidden in the deep of the heart,

Trickle out through words sweet,

Face and body shy: lips quiver;

Time catches moments, calm round.

Solace, peace, charm in eyes twinkling:

Banquet of love sprayed, like full Moon light;

Smile I every day that life within finally bloomed,

Gave a meaning to love and me,

A grace from above, it is for you I breath.

Give me hope and helped me to cope;

Life dragged me down but you held me around,

Taught me to care and share;

Made me honest with compassion best,

I learned love, with blessing from above.

Ode To a Beloved

February 24, 2015

That ray of grace and serene on your face,

Disclose the blush of days gone.

And now, worries of a gloomy era:

Crawl now, under tall towers,

Creeps under sad trees on insecure steps.

Fragile iron cars parked on sides,

An coerce  garrison of brute masters.

Ejecting in high-fie flow,

And moved towards her,

Huddled in her closet upstairs.

Evening emerges slowly and slowly,

With shadows longer and longer.

Cold, dark layer with grimy ends,

Covering daylight but gloomy.

All living with  indecisive promises;

See dreams, never to be fulfilled.

Instead  she fills the sleeping space,

Ideas bold but beautiful.

Never seen, nor imagined;

Hardly glimpse such beauty.

Finally alone or not; don’t know,

These are the waves we are swept by.

Mature, young, shallow, aimless learners;

Bridged, an span best moves with a secret.

A quiet but wise response,

And above sirens, coiled around,

Just afar the periphery lies,

The concrete island of uncertainty.

But at the gateway of hope and spring,

Hug your love and advice,

Only to meet you in eternity.


Worth of Time…

February 14, 2015

To know the importance a decade,

Ask a recently separated couple.

To know the importance of few years,

Ask two, but now split teen lovers.

To know the importance of one year,

Ask a soldier, failed in his training.

To know the importance of nine months,

Ask a mother, who delivered a pre-mature baby.

To know the importance of one month,

Ask the editor of monthly magazine.

To know the importance of a day,

Ask the bride/groom, waiting to marry.

To know the value of a minute,

Ask a flier, missed his flight by a minute.

To know the importance of one second,

Ask an injured, just survived an accident.

To know the importance of one millisecond,

Ask the runner who has won a silver medal.

To know the value of a spilt millisecond,

Ask a soldier, survived a blast narrowly.


February 12, 2015

I see the reincarnation of Lord Ganesha,
With Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati.
I see him resurrecting,
Inside the adornment in temples,
Homes and offices;
In factories, family reunions:
And pandals and parties.

I see Him, in the blissful and festive spirit;

That is un-tiring but cannot be penned,

And people have no time to rest.

But they rest in the celestial sounds of the  Joy,
To the World, it is Ganesh Chaturthi.

Cranked out of loudspeakers,

In temples, pandals malls and street corners.

He is also there in the lives of those poor,

Dying of so many hungers.

He is also there who are deprived of,
Drinking water and warm clothing.

He never deserts the victims,

Whose homes fallen to war and fire;

And innocent bait for Aids and cancer.

He is always there to balm the victims of wars,
That seem to be everyday destiny of civilization.

He is also with the babyish lives who have lost parents,
To the starved beasts of fanatics and terrorists

He is never forgets to bless the victims,

Of physical and psychological abuse;

And always with the faithful to bless.

For blessed Tom Brandy,

For him, He is remover of Obstacles.

Blessed by Lord Ganesha,

And became a big name and happy,

In the game of football.

Devotion of Lord Ganaesha made Brandy,

Super hero of American Soccer League.

N.B. Lord Ganesha is a  Hindu God. Lord Shiva, the destroyer and Goddess Parvathi,  are his father and mother. In Hindus,  Lord Ganesha is considered as vighna vinashak ( remover of obstacles). In all the Hindu rituals He is invoked first. Recently in the vault of famous American Soccer League player Tom Brandy, a four inch sized idol of Lord Ganesha was found which created a flutter in the Christian nation.

Country Inn

January 31, 2015

The moon is quiet tonight,

Frosty, heavily, slides the winter evening,

Wind is biting and cold.

Through a long passage, on the highway;

Stands the Hotel Country Inn.

Luminously shining and huge, out by the road, packed.

Pious day of Basant Panchmii, stand ‘I’ alone!

Waiting for my old friend in the midst of drum beats.

In the din and noise received a telephonic call;

My heart started jumping like a recent affianced youth;

Clearing the dancing lasses, saw a beauty, smiling;

Seeing my old friend here is like bliss and joy divine.

Decades had elapsed since we left,

Many more years had flown very fast and made us brown,

Many times mighty earth has evolved around the sun,

But appears our amity is still ‘eternally young.’

Used to roam in the huge green Campus together,

Covered with lush green trees and plants,

The land scattered with dead yellow leaves and grass;

Mangoes, guavas, papaya, laddered with ripe fruits,

Enriched the landscape vast.

Silence-hardly any soul out expect few worshipers of cupid!

The lights tingling-dangling through the thick tress,

Witnessing empty lecture rooms;- but quiet,

Somber, dark, ascetic,

But through the all-round and hushed silence,

Of the university-walls, lies and lives;

Our sweet-sour friendship past.

Her dazzling smile brought to my mind,

That shining, energetic vigour again,

In this hazy-foggy cold weather;

Where are still loved by hopes and fears.

Years played-studied together braving time and space,

Saw you spirited and true to words;

I have penned these lines together

Respecting and loving our friendly weather.

Proving, I still remember you and friendship;

Although the lanes we travel were separate,

But I can still feel the spirit of years gone.

Cleared the frost of life bravely and boldly;

Never feared the cut throat drought of world.

You will meet these lines a mark of

Waves lost in our past, happy and jovial.

I read the same glow and smile on the face

Of a friend remained long out of sight.

I wrote this poem to prove my respect

And promise to write, on you and our alliance,

My dear friend-our friendship is beyond time and space.

N.B.: Country Inn is a very famous five star hotel situated in Ghaziabad, U.P., India.

Basant Panchami is a very popular and auspicious festival of Hindus.

Modern-isms or Nudity.

January 17, 2015

She bleeds when they look for  nudity to fill their purse,
Pouring spicy  in wounds, vital arena opens the thrust.
Cleavages and mid-riffs all open with bold emerge,
Even Goddess Venus will feel shame when see it first.

Time can’t remove the hurt and body stain,
Moderns eager to brand the poor lass in secular lanes.
Shy and shrinking figure writhing to hide the pains,
Tag of free and liberal flavor the pitch body in flames.
The shy flames stare size of anatomy deep and precise,
Leaving nobody to guess where her beauty flies.
Nudity rules when free and liberal ideas’ erotica rides,
Naked eyes got fortified with colored glass of the lies.

Doing malicious expose regarded as fun high,

Here resides those who spared neither women nor cries.


January 17, 2015

With pleasure and spirit of skills in the existence,

Never in my life had I seen such lively attendance.

Lecture halls, labs, building, blocks all in absence;
But quest for knowledge has no boundaries in the sense.

Drowned the mind and body in the ocean of knowledge intense,
Dharohar of Seven Sisters and a brother known better hence.

It was a new but great beginning on wheels,
Great idea, ready to accent new height bright and dense.

Great Brahamputra runs regally with importance,

Never breaks its flow and brilliance.

The river shows the path for all assistance,

Delivers all the richness with its substance.

An asset of knowledge trapped in innocence,

Drenched unexplored but enriched learner’s resonance.

Found all houses, full of information and fragrance,

And build the depots of one-ness and intelligence.

Journey enjoyed by all, with joyful presence,

Idea brought home from rich alien with intelligence.

Back journey stacked with new ideas, immense;

Rays of enlightenment filled all the senses.

Event un-folded the miles that academics have not occurrence,

Areas un-explored got light and significance.

Researched those marbles remained in-significance.

Welcomed with warmth and lofty brilliance.

N.B: This poem is written on the personal experience of the poet as a Mentor, on his trip in Gyanodaya –V, a unique concept of learning, started by the University of Delhi, Delhi-110007, India. In this project around eight hundred students with teachers and mentors took a rail trip to North-East states of India and studied various facets of those states. This is popularly known as ‘Knowledge on Wheels, jointly organized by the University of Delhi and Indian Railways Catering and Tourism Corporation, (IRCTC).


January 13, 2015

Voters  of island nation Sri Lanka,

Ousted the killer Mahinda Rajapaksha,

From the Presidency of torn island.

Repressed and tormented Tamil Hindus,

Ensured the exit of the oppressor Despot,

Whose blood stained hands cannot be washed,

Even by all the waters of Indian Ocean.

Island nation robbed by filial robbers,

Crushed and silenced the voices sane,

Ultimately the tormenter has to lick the wound.

Ghost of valiant Velupillai Prabhakaran,

Took a sweet revenge on the killer most brute,

Souls of innocent Tamils, massacre by him,

Defeated and chased him out of coveted palace.

Come, let us celebrate the fall-for he was a king brute,

Let us rejoice his rout as it was joyous,

As suffering of people was his pride and joy.

Forced to bear the disgust and despair,

By the tears and agony of the hearts,

By the fear of barrel of guns and bang of boots.

But the stirred voters ousted the despot, brute.

N.B: This poem is written to celebrate the defeat of Sri Lankan President Mahinda Rajapaksha, in the presidential election who was responsible for the pogrom of Tamil Hindus.



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