Taj The Beautiful

A beautiful poem by my niece Eden.

Taj The Beautiful

A gem in white
A gift of love,
It sits amidst clouds of fog.

One will stare, in awe,
Marveled by its beauty
Fascinated by the intricate patterns that are engraved in the precious stone.

A ray of light will appear from behind
As the orange morning star emerges
It sheds light on the truth,
The reason this artistry exists,
Making her death, seem the most beautiful part of life.
Making their love seem immortal,
Which it is.

The tomb, is a symbol of passion,
The structure’s excellence, powerful enough hold it, through anything,
But not as strong as the passion that created it.

So it stands,
Unbreakable,
Protected by the everlasting devotion,
It is the Taj Mahal.

The box of seeds

A man going away on a long journey called his two grown up sons & gave them each a box of seeds, blessed them & left without any instructions on using the gift.

The younger son was so excited – for it was indeed a beautiful carved wooden box & inside it, seeds of a lovely shade of brown. He closed the box & then took it & kept it carefully in his room.

Now the older son admired the carvings on the box too but decided that he would use what was inside it. He quickly went to survey the barren land behind his house. With the help of a few people he ploughed the hard earth & when it was just right, he planted all the seeds in neat rows. He made sure it was watered regularly & nurtured it with care.

In due course the older son’s box of seeds had produced a mighty harvest. He was able to sell his crops in the village market at a profit & gather a few sacks of seeds to be planted again! This was possible because he was willing to take a risk & plant the seeds his Father had given him.

The younger son’s box of seeds remained just that – a box in a lonely room gathering dust, with seeds inside it longing to spring to life & produce a harvest if only they could be trusted, given a chance & allowed out of their box.

All of us have within us the seeds of potential & greatness. It is upto us to decide whether we will allow those seeds to grow or hide it where it will never have a chance to emerge.

We need to have the faith to believe that inside us has been placed seeds of talent, creativity, growth & opportunity.

We must do our part to recognize the seeds in our lives, nurture it & help it grow so it can produce a mighty harvest in our lives.

God’s Wondrous Ways

God's Ways

I still remember her distinctly. A stooped old woman with gnarled hands. She was a beggar who used to visit our house frequently many years ago asking for alms.

She was very fond of me & would never hesitate to display her affection by reaching out a bony finger to tap me. She loved to indulge in some light-hearted banter. Her toothy grin was infectious. I really took to her & liked her too.

Slowly, she made it a point to come more often.

Slowly, I started viewing her frequent visits with suspicion.

I began to wonder if she was taking advantage & making a fool out of me.

Almost immediately a small voice within asked me to open the Bible with a very specific command to “turn to page #_, bottom right”.

I eagerly opened my Bible to the specific page & looked to the bottom right. The words that stared back at me were “We are fools for Christ’s sake.”

I was stunned!

I was a very new Christian & not aware of too many scriptures & least of all this! It was nothing but God sharing His specific word about a person & situation He cared for.

Many years have passed since that incident, I have no idea where that old lady is…may she be blessed wherever life has taken her.

~ * ~

We are fools for Christ’s sake – 1 Corinthians 4:10

~ * ~

DPChallenge

Life is a coloured pathway

There is something about colour that always inspires me.

Colours are known to evoke moods & emotions.

Life to me is a pathway, strewn with colours from the sombre to the vibrant.

 ~  *  ~

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and its ends, but to me it’s quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment. A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors. Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses. In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.
~ Markus Zusak ~ 

The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love color the most.
~ John Ruskin ~

There is something about green that calms the soul.

Spots of orange play peekaboo to brighten our days.

Life is not all black & white. There are shades of grey. Cats were created to prove it.

In the pink of health it was said with good reason.

The flowers awaken to greet the sunlight.

 

Why do two colors, put one next to the other, sing? Can one really explain this? no. Just as one can never learn how to paint. 
~ Pablo Picasso ~

The sky was swept clean & I sat to behold it.

Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways.
~ Oscar Wilde ~

In the many colours, I see life.

~  *  ~

 

In response to the DP Challenge, a splash of colour

The Day Earth Died

Mother Earth heaved from side to side.

And sighed.

And sighed some more.

It was a bad dream.

~ * ~

The whole earth was barren.

Green spots here & there.

The only vegetation which remained.

The remaining plants like embers in an ash heap.

Knowing the light had been put out.

Others struggled valiantly to break out of seed.

Pushing through clods of earth to see  the sunlight.

Few other shrubs & dwarfed trees.

Here & there.

~ * ~

Plastic, pollutants & other solid waste had clogged the pores of the earth.

Till the earth became nothing but a vast landfill.

Choked any growth from beneath & strangled  their growth.

Degraded the waters.

Filthified the airs.

~ * ~

Man.

A species from the past.

Had advanced & become too smart for his own good.

Extracted from Earth all her treasures.

Repaid her with garbage unlimited.

Wet. Dry. Mixed.

The toxified Earth.

~ * ~

Gradually the waste man generated, consumed the species.

Wiped them off the earth.

For good.

~ * ~

Man.

He had polluted the air. He had polluted the water. He had polluted the earth.

A shrieking scream & Earth awoke from her slumber.

To discover, the dream was true.

~ * ~

Earth had finally died.

She had become a ghost.

~ * ~

Sow waste. Reap waste.

Poetree

While my name means poetry in Sanskrit, the talent in this sphere has been found to be severely wanting.

I stumbled upon this poem I had scribbled  years ago on the evil of dowry &… I was impressed.

There was hope to live up to my name.

So what if there’s no rhyme or meter & all other things the literati define?

Beautiful ornaments
Around my neck,
Based on which they
Decided my worth.

*

How miserable
That the sheen
Of the heart,
Judged by the glitter
Of a diamond’s art.

*     *     *

A Lovable Spinner of Yarns

For those who see it, it is but a plain gold ring with a red gem stone.

To me, it is a symbol & memory of a beautiful relationship with my favorite Uncle, Dad’s older brother.

*     *     *

My Uncle retired as a Brigadier from the Indian Army & returned to settle down in our city when we were kids. On account of health reasons, he eventually shifted over to stay with us. A confirmed bachelor, he was to become a great companion & trusted friend to us kids in the years ahead.

Army style discipline, humor & sarcasm were used in abundance to get his nephews & nieces to fall in line. He was a favorite among all us kids & cousins alike.

A stickler for punctuality nothing annoyed him more than one of us keeping him waiting way past the appointed time. My eldest brother had a few run-in’s with this Grandmaster of time, with his annoying habit of showing up late with amazing consistency.

*     *     *

Uncle regaled us with his dramatic ghost stories in which he personally encountered ghosts in the North Eastern parts of India during his days in the Army…which up to even a few years ago I had believed was absolutely true!

At the age of 12, I drafted my formal signature as he wished to start a joint bank account with me & needed my signature. Till date it has remained my official signature.

He had a way of making us feel special. I have been gifted purses & elegant jewel boxes on some birthdays, in velvet or sandalwood.

Several years later he gave me a New Testament he possessed. I treasure this immensely with his message to me.

*     *     *

He just knew how to get things done. If I showed reluctance to do a particular task out of sheer laziness, he would say “if I was married…had a wife & children they would do it for me.”

The guilt trip worked like magic. I would spring up & do the needful.

Master story teller, spinner of yarns, friend…he was all this & more to us.

*     *     *

My Uncle had a special gold ring. He would always tell me that he’d give it to me when I got married.

On September 1st 1995, my Uncle called me to his room & gave me his gold ring.

I later wondered why he was giving it to me so soon. As I was not married.

A few days later, on September 5th, 1995 my Uncle passed away after a massive heart attack.

*     *     *

The precious gold ring is one of my favourite things.

It is a beautiful memory of the Uncle I was so blessed to have had & the wish that he was still around.

September 5th this year makes it 17 years since he left us.

This is a tribute to my Uncle, he was truly the best.

*     *     *

This was written in response to the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: A Few of  My Favorite Things