Fifty pages of
cursive writing for all to fill,
but most medico
prescriptions are illegible still.
Like parrots
singing rhymes all the same way
stuck with
homework, and no time to play.
Right from the
ill fated tenth year of life,
swings in a big
schoolbag, like a butcher's knife
I must work
hard,regardless of night or day
as my neighbor
Sharmaji's daughter scores better they say.
I remember how
neatly three columns i drew
The language
rattles only in temples today
and I don't
understand a word they say.
A system that is
as ancient as the language i rote,
of fantasies,
from the path of truth remote,
Two hundred words
essay on the Gandhian dream
all flushed
away..all now is clean.
I must not bend too
low,for what will they say,
slightly low and
hastily up, all the way,
pretending to
casually smoothen my hair
not noticing my
grandpa's despair.

There are many
traditions, which are so uncool,
they never taught
the meaning of national anthem in school.
all they taught
me, that at the first beat,
the full song in
a flow,i must repeat.
standing
straight, hands by my side.
While i use only
an imported device,
only when back
stabbed today,do i pay the price.
As i was told to
color within the lines,
on the already
made designs,
So the only
drawing that i did paint,
was a river and
sky too blue, with two crows a little faint.
So when today i
proudly beam,
It seems abroad
better opportunities lie,
less scope for
research,far away i must fly.
So while my
parents silently age,
i must mint
money, earn a handsome wage.
My education
system has made me such,
create i can't,
but copy i can too much.
So i learn all
their fancy ways,
But when i return
to my country for a holiday,
What the hell! tourists greet me with a namaste !!!
When parts of my
country, struggle today,
some are so
dirty, a survey does say,
I shrug my
shoulders,in the list my city is high,
after all I was
taught only "Myself, Me and I".
There are only
good old beliefs that i must obey,
Out of all
rituals, few have been chosen to stay.
In a small town,
in an ancient temple today
sits a goddess,on
a white cloth her idol lay.
every month the
cloth turns red,
wondrous she
bleeds, all bow their head.
In the same
country, and even today,
On certain days
in a temple ,i must not pray
For even the gods
might whisper far away,
They may forget
they only created me this way.
no time to lie,
to watch the starry sky.
I had a talent
but I threw it away,
only because it
dint fetch a good pay.
When everyday u
go to work, daily on the side,
dogs bark loud,
running side by side.
U don't pay
attention, you don't ask them why
I have lost my face, i never had a spine,
so whenever things are not fine,
I fall victim to peer pressure fast,
to pleasures which would not always last.
Its easy to just plug off the light,
leaving others
behind to deal with the sorrowful night.
one would realize
only when its too late
the drowning man
clutches at weeds, but known is his fate.
For the life that
you so casually throw,
there are so many
the price who know
ask the children
on dusty roads, at the traffic lights
trying to sell
something, through day and nights.

Our country is
free, and yet in chains
It is time for a
change, in our mind, in our ways
every little
talent deserves a praise.
So unpredictable
is the game of life
At least pick up
and roll the dice
And if i have to run a race,
let others not slow down my pace
A pair of blinders surround my eyes
my limit be way beyond the skies.
Where there is one,
And if i have to run a race,
let others not slow down my pace
A pair of blinders surround my eyes
my limit be way beyond the skies.
Where there is one,
there has to be a two and a three
So today i celebrate just being me.
Forget the
trophy...just enjoy the run
