Home

It seems a lifetime when I believed
There was a place where I belonged
A place called Home…..the place I owned

Where I could be as free as the wind
Or as authoritative as the king
Maybe as willful as the young stream
Or as colorful as a sweet dream

Where I would get up each morning
Secured to find the same wall, same floor, same ceiling
Knowing where to find my things and where to keep looking
I was sure of every step that I took
Sure of the ground on which I stood
I was familiar with all the things wherever I looked

It was my home…..a place that I owned
It was my home…..a place where I belonged

The cool breeze, when I opened the window, entered the room
The beautiful sunshine made my little kingdom bloom
As I gazed at the hill the way I did every morning
It seemed to say, “Good Morning my Sweet Little Darling”

I stepped out into the garden and walked on the soft grass
Looked at the beautiful flowers and breathed in the sweet fragrance
Spoke to the trees as I always did
Watered the plants and plucked out some weed
It felt wonderful it felt like heaven
May I stay here forever, I wished then

It was my home…..a place that I owned
It was my home…..a place where I belonged

Wishes do come true but not always
As I soon discovered with tears in my eyes…
I was severed from the roots where I had grown
I was refused the home which I had owned
It was for my future they said
Which in ruins then laid

‘Join the race and seek the world
It will be good for you to keep ahead’
With these words I was uprooted and
Taken far away from the place I loved…..
I owned...….I belonged
The place to which I was always related

The new house which no more was my home
Also had walls, floor and ceiling
But they could never evoke the same feeling

With tears in my eyes I opened the window
The cool breeze entered…alas there was no kingdom
The sunshine was not as bright or beautiful
Or was it my mood that was awful?
As I peered out I could see no hill
Without it, to live on, I had no will

I stepped out into the garden
Everything was new, everything was different
There was no known color no familiar scent

Lost and broken I sat down on a step
Oh! It was hard and cold
I looked around for something that was
Even distinctly familiar
Alas! There was none

It was a house not my home…….
My home…..a place that I owned
My home …...a place where I belonged
I lost it somewhere down the road
Lost it to some horde

Sitting down on the steps I recalled
I was sent here to get my future secured

I struggled each day to succeed
But books were not my only need
I was looking for my home…….
Looking for something known

As I studied new lessons I was awed
How beautiful was the world outside!
But something died within me deep inside

My future each day was getting more secured
And I…….more insecure

It was for my good they said …………

What was the best for me was not good enough
It brightened my future but darkened my inner self

‘Poverty’ in Diversity

I was deeply engrossed in a thriller novel……..was on the verge of finding out how the murder had taken place….when suddenly my concentration was broken by a noise coming from outside…….

I live in a 3 storey apartment. The plot next to my apartment is vacant and is normally used as a garbage disposal bin by the other tenants. Here I would like to add that we do have a facility to dispose the garbage in the common bin on the ground floor!

My interest in the vacant land, however, is mainly because of the tall eucalyptus trees that shelter a family of squirrels and different kinds of birds. It gives me immense pleasure and relaxation to sit by the window and gaze at the trees against the background of the sparkling clear blue sky. It is also fun watching the squirrels scrambling up and down the trees…at times with a prized possession of maybe a fruit and at other times playfully chasing each other. The squirrels, I have noticed, have a special way of communicating with each other. They make a kind of ‘chick-chick’ sound while simultaneously tweaking their tails.

The birds have their own way of communicating. I always thought that crows have a monotonous harsh ‘caw-caw’…..I, however, noticed that the ‘caw-caw’ might be repeated but the pitch, the tone and the frequency are different. Occasionally the melodious ‘coo-coo’ of the cuckoo would punctuate the ‘caw-caw’ of the crows. I simply love my room for the wonderful world that surrounds it.

Oops! I was talking about the noise that diverted me….I guess I got away….

Coming back to the noise…..I thought it was either a stray dog or a mouse – they normally come here to find a bite or two from the piled up garbage. I usually give slices of bread or few biscuits to the dogs. Hence when I thought I heard one, I got the packet of bread and was about to throw a slice out of the window. It was then that I realized that it was not one of my canine friends….in fact it was another human being…..a rag picker! I was shocked and ashamed.

I was shocked to look at the poor guy going through the packets and packets of garbage in order to find something that can be salvaged and exchanged for a little money or for a morsel of food.

I looked out of the window again…….and this time I seemed not to notice the tall green healthy eucalyptus trees against the background of the sparkling clear blue sky. Neither did I notice the scrambling squirrels nor the coo-cooing cuckoo…..instead what I saw was an empty plot strewn with garbage – the things that are worthless to us but which might be invaluable to someone….as it could buy him a piece of bread.
I was ashamed to be a part of the world where such diversity exists……

Nearing the End of an Era

I was shocked as was the rest of India to hear Dada call it a day. It was not unexpected but was shocking nevertheless. Well Dada has a habit of throwing surprises – remember his declaring the Indian innings out of the blue….taking the opponent completely by surprise and winning the test match.
Though I never was a huge admirer of Sourav Ganguly (for me it is Rahul Dravid all the way) I am mourning the retirement of the most successful Indian captain and great player.

Fondly called as the “Prince of Kalkoota” by Geoffrey Boycott, Sourav Ganguly has made a huge contribution to the Indian cricket. After entering the test arena with a big bang scoring a century on his debut, he never really looked back. He scripted with Sachin Tendulkar one of the greatest ODI opening sagas of Indian cricket. Wherever he lacked in technique he filled it up beautifully with exquisite timing and placement. It was a pleasure watching his stroke play on the offside......he was rightly called the “God of the Offside”.

Dada had his own way of looking at things. He never did hesitate in giving a piece of his mind whenever the situation so demanded. Neither did he believe in lying low and accepting others’ terms and conditions. He showed Indian cricket what aggression was all about…..though more often than not it landed him in trouble! He sowed the seed of killer instinct in a very docile team.

It was under his captaincy that Indian cricket has seen the maximum influx of youngsters. It is an irony that it’s the demand for the so called ‘young side’ that has resulted in the exit of Sourav Ganguly. With talks of other ‘seniors’ following suit are we nearing the end of an Era?