A government hospital

The filth, the clamour
The smell of blood, whiff of death
Poverty, helplessness
Apathy, gloom, juggernaut —
A government hospital.

Please vote for me

Hi...

Short and Sweet has been accepted in the Original Poetry Contest category on Indiblogger. It will take you a few minutes to vote, or create an account if you are yet not on Indiblogger...

Also, may I go a step ahead and say that I would be grateful if you ask your friends on the blogroll to check out Short and Sweet and vote for me...

Here's the voting link..

Wish me luck!

--Gauri

Swing on a star

The radio played:

"... Or would you like to swing on a star,
Carry moonbeams home in a jar
and be better off than you are..."

From Doris Lessing's short story 'A road to the big city'

Mesjay, this one's for you. I have been filling up a little diary these days and so the blog's neglected a bit. :)

Where they go

The footpaths on S N Banerjee and CIT
were littered with near-naked rickshawpullers
swooned in sweet fatigue after midnight
till a few days ago.
It's begun to rain now
and I wonder where they go...

I love low-cost planes

In three hours flat,
Can reach the home I most love,
I love low-cost planes

Kuch zakhmon ka hara rehna

Us ne muskura kar kurede mere zakhm aur kaha
'Khalish' accha hota hai kuch zakhmon ka hara rehna...


- Vitthal Gharpure, Khalish

Why do we?

Summer sleep, rainy talks
Falling leaves, cold blankets
Seasons change. So do we.

Lazy walks, school socks
Scribble pads, chewed pens
Seasons change. So do we.

Red roses, touchy cards
Long letters, shy tears
Seasons change. So do we.

Why do we?

-GG

Summer

It's hot and sultry
but not just right enough
The sun was far more demanding
In the town I grew up in.

It hit you on your skin
and pierced right through
Till you burnt a funny red
And then sweat cooled you up.

The hot vapours pricked you by
As you zoomed past on bikes.
Back home, under the lazy fan;
Water after a minute or two
Life would slowly seem bearable again...

Ahmedabad has a thousand memorable things
But the most I miss
Are those ruthless summer months.

Mee asheech Mee tasheech

Mee khari
Mee khoti

Mee kali
Mee gori

Mee aahe
Mee nahi

Mee sona
Mee dagad

Mee agni
Mee jal

Mee bangdi
Mee dora

Mee eechhha
Mee bal

Mee lahan
Mee mothi

Mee asheech
Mee tasheech

Mee satya
Mee asatya

Mee Gandhi
Mee Bhagat

Mee phool
Mee madhmashi

Mee nadi
Mee samudra

Mee aapli
Mee parkee

Mee pandhree
Mee laal

Mee ho
Mee nahi

Mee asheech
Mee tasheech

Chaitali Phadke is a vivacious Mumbaikar, a charming, chirpy girl whose poetry you have to read to believe her sensitive way of seeing things. This poem is her take on herself.