Thursday, 26 December 2013


Sound sleeping
The toddler does need it,
In early speaking ability,
He only says, “Mother! Come.”
So that in tandem the baby
Wants to sway with love
The passing of the night,
Sleeping with mother’s caring.

Lovely goes his spirit
And hunts for sleeping,
He wants to be with mother,
In the making of myth of love,
That the child does like to be with
The big organized way of mother's sincerity,
The sentiment of life, in mother’s embrace
And everything of beats of life
The speaking of the baby is heading
With joy on the way of love’s train,
Sleeping with mother.

Under the marathon of busy hours
And service work, the mother
Manages for duty and for her rest,
And brings everything in little gust
Of burning sleeve of tiredness,
Since she moves with languished feeling,
The child’s sleeping scope
Gives mother haste
To finish her workload, and
She just tries to find time,
To come with the toddler,
And in the mean time, it is amazed,
The mechanism has been changed,
And the child starts crying.

Saturday, 14 December 2013


She returns home with haste
Stops for her little son
And makes him prepare
For the journey,
She has no time to listen
To her child who has
Something good in his mindset,
The child has own choice
For shoes and sweater to wear
In winter, while
He is going out,
And he utters, “Other one”
He is yet to speak in full.

The child cries with bursts,
Holding his choices - shoes
And sweater to wear
In mother’s company,
She had no time to attend
Child’s untold feeling,
And she fakes his choice
Stuffs a mother’s choice,
Jumps into hasty move,
Avoiding crying of child,
And lifts the kid
Like a colored balloon,
In her lap, and the child
Crying profusely,
Still holding his shoes
In one hand and sweater
In other hand, and keeps
Them under his care
Not knowing the secret
Of his mother’s apathy,
And his mother says,
“We are in a hurry,
Time to catch bus is going out.”

The child don’t understand,
What mother is saying about,
Crying profusely, he throws
All he holds in his tiny hands,
Slumped on the hard concrete floor.

Friday, 13 December 2013


The child is feeble
His eyes go deep into face,
Yet he eats, dances, moves,
Cries, smiles, the red face
Looks pale when he baths,
Mother says his structure
Is so, and she messages cream
To remove his paleness,

I only pray to God, Lord,
Please keep the child moving,
You love him,
You care him,
I am an onlooker,
And if I put advice
I fear my eyes will
Be blinded forthwith,
And my mind cries
On my helplessness
As the world is for theirs,
My old age burns are
All fake to them,
Other relations are nothing,
And I do not put my finger
Into the fire,
That will kill my whole essence
And the child will remain
In their whims, and child lives in pains.

I whisper to the world
God may hear my words.