I wonder why life appears unbearable,
 when we are in a  fix.  I don’t know
 even an animal suffers from the same
 existential anguish. We have seen
 animals running crazy, when denied
 food or sex. They also show marked
 remorse when their off-spring dies.

 For last few months I have been
 observing a  pigeon- couple. From my
 window I see them cozy in a window
 extension of an air-conditioner.Even
 at mid-night I try to steal a bit of
 their privacy. They have become my
 constant companion in my thought,
 and in probing into inner recesses
 of mind.
      A fine morning I saw four eggs
 in our balcony in a discarded flat
 plastic pot. A few minutes after, one
 of the pigeons spread its wings and
 sat over the eggs. The pot was lying
 in a relatively  secluded corner
 of the balcony, under a wooden stool.
 Then I knew she was the female bird
 taking her turn to heat the eggs,in
 turn the parents warmed the eggs. 
 For almost a month they sat over the
 eggs, warming them to life.Mostly
 the male bird used to bring food for
 her  in his beak. It was a sight to
 cherish and keep for life.
       One day we saw two little black
 creatures and beside them two rotten
 eggs. Out of four eggs two could live
 to be future pigeons. The parents
 continued nurturing them. It is divine
 finding the beak-feeding their babies
             After about a  month I 
 woke up to find chirping of scores
 of pigeons, the  tiny squabs  have
 started spreading their wings, the
 pigeons have assembled to see them
 flying,they aided them in their
 attempt. I was thrilled, life in its true      
 superlative.
 After some days they flew away, an amazing
 sight. A dozen bade them good-luck.
 That was what I conceived from their
 happy cry.

              Some months after the
 repetition.Two eggs on the same pot
 and the warming those to create
 life. This time both the eggs
 created life. We saw two black tiny
 creatures, the parents hovered around
 them, the mother protecting, the father
 feeding. Before retiring to bed it was
 my daily routine to have a sight of the
 male sitting alone on the woood-support
 of the AC. The mother with her children.

 It was another mid-night I Saw two of
 them together. I wondered, I cursed the
 mother, for pleasure she had deserted
 her off-spring. I could not notice then
 they were  restless.
     The morning was yet to break, it was
 faint dark after dawn. I heard a deep
 commotion of birds’ cry in our balcony.
 I rushed to find blood and flesh, none
 of the tiny creatures were alive, what
 remained a lump of raw flesh, clotted
 blood. The pigeons have gathered in
 scores and those two unlucky parents
 were moving like two stage actors ,
 who enacted the after effects of a
 great tragedy. Two crows like hunters
 hid their presence in a small corner.
 I knew they were the culprits and killed
 the tiny creatures last afternoon.
 It was a  moving sight. For a moment
 I was motionless ,then  I took away
 the mortal remains and threw away and
 made it a point two remove that
 cursed pot, which saw life and death.
 
        For many days, even for
 few months the two pigeons moved in our
 house, searching each nook and cranny
 with the hope to find their children,
 because I was the one who threw away
 their mortal remains.
     Even to-day they sit there waiting
 for another day and another life.
 They are more resilient than us.
 Animals also love and they are least
 selfish and only suffer when a real
 tragedy occurs.
  

        Nobody knows why
        some one appears
        more to his liking
        than another.
        While having morning walk I stood beside a
        road side laundry, saw a little baby warming
        in the secured lap of his mother. They don’t
        have a home of their own. The laundry is
        laid upon a wooden bed. Through summer
        and winter it is left open and in rains it is
        covered with a plastic sheet. The man, his
        young wife and their little child have their
        belongings in a slum beside the railway-track.
        Early in the morning the woman carries the
       baby in her arms and reaches the main road,
       puts charcoal in the iron, and they are ready
       to live.
                         I don’t know why the family is
    singled out , and I feel a keenness in them.
    May be the mystery of human affinity.

         Good Morning, have a nice weekend
               and glorious
          Saraswati Puja.

       
 
 

       


             

                together we excel

                together we share

                together we fight

                together we join

                to ward off  evil,

                usher harmony.

                being together

                is heaven.

      could any one tell why don’t we suspend
 
      our ego for a while ? i remember we were 

      fresh from college, we wanted to stage a

      play, a dozen of us, dreams in tact , and

      perception brilliant. the first resolve we

      made we would set aside our ego to

      complete a task. our achievement was

      a thing to emulate. next time we tried the

     same thing in our collective relationship, we

     failed and failed never to start again. then

     after many years i ask myself, why didn’t we

     or why can’t we? is it that we are driven there

     to realize human frailty. why do we engage in

     the futile race to satisfy our ego ?

   

     good morning friends!
  i woke up early in the morning,
  strangely i wanted to renounce 
  worldly worries for this saturday
  morning, no rajus , no satyam, no
  petrol scarcity bothered me.
  the whole truth i wanted to feel
  within, i wanted to remember all
  the kind people i have met, few
  faces,my parents,my friends,the     street tea shop boy and none
 of them was a name to reckon,all
 from small beginnings with great
 hearts to share, isn’t it all 
 with most of us !! our life is
 shaped by humble people who only
 gives never expect returns.     
         

     Dreams take us to our own world,

    where we find our picture reflected

     in its glory,  dreams never die

     as long as we cherish them,  

     in dreams we weave our

     life’s journey.  

 Confide in your self, ask time and again ,

  am  I  faithful  in my confessions,

 inner voice shall  tell  you   where you 

 betray, listen intently, start again ,

   bliss shall prevail.