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Kanhaa Poem

The  Kanhaa Poem: 1 
By Amita J Sanghavi.
19/8/2022.

Krishna, krishna!

Heading straight

To the Haveli,

We stop at the phoolwala

And his tokri,

Our steps halt

As we bend,

Flowers to the soul,

Bliss lend:

The moment

Of spotting fresh blooms,

Mogra and Prajakta,

Bringing a bright glow

On our face and our heart,

We bend to touch the petals,

And the softness

In the Marigold garlands,

How we love to hold!

And now hurry to visit

Krishna in the temple,

Inhaling incense,

Lotus scented agarbatti

Lighting lamps for real,

Chanting aarti in chorus,

As we drape blooms

Around His neck,

And join our hands,

Overwhelmed

With real Darshan

In our 'ami'-filled eyes,

As our blue Kanhaa

We behold,

The maakhan chor,

And His mesmerising,

Mischievous muskaan

Forever heart-held,

Come let’s celebrate,

The birth of

Our Divine consciousness

On Krishna we focus,

Govind Hari, Gopal Hari,

We chant in chorus,

His feet,

The ultimate Sharan

For us.


Gallery

How about…

Being Sunny today…
How about...
Smiling
Without any reason today?
How about...
Singing
With(out) tune today?
How about...
Joking and laughing
On yourself today?
How about...
Giving up a 'must do' today?
How about...
Facing towards the Sun and simply being happy
today?
Being Sunnier, Sunniest today?
🌼🌼🌼

Mommy muses…

Good bye
On the purple couch
She does belong,
And she sings along,
Between numbers divine-
Ruth B's 'Lost boy'
She plays again,
And humming Trampoline,
By amazing Shaed and Zayn,
My princess shifts,
In the next moment,
Taylor Swift's
Melody drifts.


Outdoors, the Virus
Covid 19 corpses pile,
Indoors 24 by 7,
Locked down we cope
To keep alive hope,
Try home remedies so naive,
Praying they do survive,
Days elapsed more than
Three Sixty Five.


I keep glued my eye
To the 15×17" screen,
On the digital
'virtual' platform
I 'Meet' strangers,
And also my own,
Our voices low,
Our spirit sunk,
With cameras off
On Zoom,
Our world's shrunk
Into our living room.

Her O level Exams
In 2021 scheduled,
How short a reign
Childhood ruled!
I feel cheated
By Time, fooled.


Am I ready
For the silence
That will follow soon,
For Papa Johns pizza,
No more sulky tantrum,
No one over-the-moon?

Am I ready
To say goodbye
As she'll pack
My heavy heart
In her backpack?

Are moms able
To recall
How to thrive?
Or do they amidst
A mount of
Muted memories cry?

Will I pretend
To smile and survive,
Counting each day,
Till my kid beloved,
For a short visit
Will arrive next May?
Is that how I'll
Suddenly, rapidly
Go wrinkled and grey?

Till then,
Though listless,
Am I suppose to
Just breathe,
And glance
At lifeless doors
And dull chores replete
Just repeat, repeat, repeat, and repeat?

How do I thrive
After my nestling,
Far away will fly,
Into a distant sky?


At 4, she ruined my lipstick, scribbling
‘Mamma I ❤ you’

My Hinglish poem: Missing home

Missing the kuhu kuhu melody
Of the hidden Koyal among fresh mango leaves,
The squirrels running bindaas on the nariyal trees,
The squeaky groan of the overloaded rusty swing never kid-free,
The temple bells' reassuring chime,
The next-door school kids'
In chorus sing everytime,
The 'rain, rain go away' rhyme.

The aromas from the kitchen stronger than any fancy appetizer,
Recipes of monsoons are mixed with Granny's stories making us wiser,
Mom's 'go get samosa' orders,
From time to time, I am running chores,
Picking up the umbrella heading outdoors,
Venturing out in heavy downpours.

Dad turning newspaper pages,
My sisters walk in, soaking wet,
With angry drenched faces,
With 'how the rain stopped the train'
Stories grumbled out of pouts with grimaces.

Quickly drying the feet,
First of all, to the kitchen heading,
'I am starving-pass the chutney',
Then cosily cross-legged
On the dining chair sitting,
Slurpping chai,
Kadak, mitthi adhrakhwaali.
On the phone, Mom grumbling,
'Bai tu aaj pann nai aali?
All biting into garama garam samosa,
Yummy and mast teekhaa zyaadaa.

Missing home would include,
Missing the unique dudhwalla excuse,
Kal se dudh kyu hai paniwalla?
The loud honking of the pick-up-at-doorstep riksha,
'Jaldi karo' prompts the impatient rikshawalla,
Missing the calls of the rusk toast bhaiya,then the 'costly' bhajiwalla,
The postman uncle greyed and smiling,
Chatting and chitthi-delivering.

Missing the singing chorus
of 'yere yere paavsaa',
And the bacchoos hurriedly,
Notebook ka page tearing,
Busy with paper-boat making
Dancing in puddles, their feet splashing.

With all the thunder and lightening,
Arrey baba light gaya oh what a commotion
So, lagta hai Humlog episode miss hoga,
The clock ticks,
the endless wait now for -light kab aayega-
Like a mantra we repeat
Hoping to watch Chitrahaar at least!

Swinging in the verandah, chatting,
Killing mosquitoes and just chilling,
For bunking work tomorrow no excuses-finding,
Starting antaakshri and fav songs humming,
Losing the game and then memories visiting
Biting into kaju-katris,
Recalling lost raincoats and stolen chhatris.

Evening Aarti in the temple begins,
Aunties on the way to worship,
Waving, and by mom invited,coming in
Saying 'paaus bhaari hai
So OK will come in
Bas just for 2 minutes',
Then for hours waiting,

'Tchtch tchtch...'

'Why these showers so heavy,
'Baarish rukney ka naam hi nahi,'
And about mom in law's abusive treatment revealing,
Few moments of heaviness,
With glances exchanging,
A loud silence, a sigh,
Then a ready 'OK' for an aadha cup of chai,
Back to lovely samosas and chatter and laughter,
Memories made in moments of bonding,
Gulping tears with tea
And moving onto factual 'khichdi'
Cooking impromptu details with assal ghee,
Savouring masaledaar gossiping.

In so many more ways untold,
Missing my parents of course,
Missing friends and folks for sure
Putting together all this, 'Home' it is,
Yes, yearning for home-coming,
Being away from my ghar is hurting,
Missing all this
Connecting and caring,
Home is so healing,
so healing.

Home!

Mangoes more mangoes!🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭🥭

Mango moments, 
Those delicious
Inhalations deep,
Of aromas sweet
And the mouthfuls
Of mangoes
Haaphus, Totapuri,
Langda, Badaami,
Kesari, Paayri....
The colour
The texture
The taste
The luxury
Of more, even more
Mango delicacies,
How lip-smacking is aamras
Pooris hot dipped in...
Home grown Rajapuri,
Homemade garam puri,
Home concocted Pannah,
Home made chhoondaa...
Home made aambe wadi,
Home made mango barfi.
Milkshakes and ice cream,
Dip in a dozen mango pickles,
Savour on my tongue,
Mango-sour tickles
Finger-lick fajeto
The ultimate mango kadhi,
and bowls of brinjal
dressed in mango curry,
Hot mango-orange, chilli-red and sizzling!
Me, the mango maniac,
Me, the mango devotee.