NEW  BEGINNINGS

When we walk down the corridor of life, sometimes strolling, sometimes running or rushing through, it is always a pleasure to meet a long lost friend around some corner.Our emotions spill through and lovely memories warm the cockles of our hearts.This is exactly how i felt when I chanced upon this blog after almost two years.Much water has flown down the bridge since then...but it was a wonderful feeling coming back to something which I had created and had wanted to cultivate further.In the humdrum of daily existence, my links with this blog might have frayed but definitely not broken. Because it is a treat to come here and write..and share. Having never even written a diary, putting down personal or even professional feelings is a task, but I shall try harder this time.

I started penning poems around the same time I started working.The more the work pressure, the more used to be the untamed urge to create something poignant or beautiful. Around the time that I was reading my favourite novel, River God for the nth time and sharing the pain of one of the protagonists who never gets to know his father, I  wrote this little piece in memory of all those children who never could be around a parent sacrificed in the altar of strife and war.


                                              THE TOMB

The tomb stood still,
Its mossy surface basking in winter's sun,
Silently watched by the dead soldier's son.

the young soldier had fought many battles,
Had tolled countless victory bells,
His sinews were caressed by scars,
Belying his young age, his rakish charm.

Countries he travelled, legions he conquered,
Lustily cheering as the trumpet of victory bellowed,
The days were tiring, the nights sublime,
Amidst the sweet blossoms of this cooler clime,
Memories of his young wife, unborn child
Haunted him, made him restless.

That day was cold, the battle grim
Bayonets clashed, fire met fire, 'twaslike a terrible dream.
The soldier was tired,weary to the bone,
But duty beckoned; the warrior had an allegiance to the throne.
Musket in hand, he rushed forward,
Death smelt him and dealt a blow hard.
The soldier succumbed.
Glory was his and so was the pain,
He humbly closed his eyes to the winter's sun,
Eyes that would never see his newborn son.


The tomb stood still,
Its mossy surface basking in winter's sun,
Silently watched by the dead soldier's son.
The son thought of his valiant father, a warrior second to none,
Resting in his tomb today,but his spirit lives on,
For the son has donned the soldier's mantle.
Wars he shall win, sabres he shall rattle,
Bring laurels for his dead father
Whose tomb stands still basking in the winter's sun.