Jun 19, 2010

My Father... His son

The relation of a father and son steers through a spree of emotions, tensions and associations. My dad was my hero when I was a child. Back home every evening with happiness, love and often a small edible souvenir just because we were his blood. Dragging us out of home for that new Hepatitis-B vaccine and instead surprising his timid boys with their first Cricket Kit, then a football on birthday, lift us effortlessly and mock us graciously. Weekend visits to relatives, parks, cinema halls, a dinner outing each week and umpteen delights for all my senses.

As I reached my teens, I found a teacher in him. Those practical files and tedious holiday homework, covers on my notebooks each session, tying shoe-lace because his younger one took 14 years to learn it, a lift so school every time I was late, distributing candies and patisseries every summer on my birthday, driving sessions, obscene demands of pocket money and countless other favours which even best of friends freak out considering.

And today, when I am mature by my standards and still a ‘boy’ by his, I have a great friend in him. Understanding me when I freak out, waiting for me to come back from work so that we can dine together, calling me without fail to confirm all’s well when I am driving or away from home or in a beer party. Calling to check if I am doing fine when he is gone far away for work, dropping me to work each morning because I don’t want to ride that old bike, he never let us feel the hard effort behind that obvious.

Extending huge sums of money on my every birthday to treat those new friends who came much later and will leave much sooner than him, he seldom questioned why I can’t spend the day with him.
Opening single barrel Red Label when I got my first job and sharing it with me. Switching off the TV or understanding the lip-movement of his favourite soap just because I am trying to concentrate, calming me down when I am angry (even on him), soothing me when I am upset from my girl friend, offering me to take his car till I buy mine, coming to my hostel with food items, money and goodies so that I shouldn’t miss home, he undeniably played the best friend.

However, his friend was often a thankless fellow who took his amity for granted. These words are but a miniscule memory of endless favours my hero, my teacher and my friend did for me. And the deadly blow is the realisation that I have. I know I will be busy for the most of my life as I grow. I know I will not be there to extend him the warmth that he does. I know I will take 3 names in my family: me, my wife and my kid. I know I will crib of my disproportionate income and expenses when it comes to spend on him. I know my wife will always be right and parents will take a second place. I know when I say something to him, I am practical and think about my family, but if he says something to my family, he is being mean and old.

However I know one more thing, if I am to find one man who has been there for me throughout my life without a second thought, one man who has watched me since I came and will continue watching me till he leaves, he is.... my father.

You are my hero dad!

This is in response to the contest 'Tribute to Dad' organised by Blogadda in association with Pringoo!

A Juvenile Elegy

Those moments were adored
As a princess she was adorned
With her silk skirt brushing adown
No women didn’t missed an envious frown

For heavens she was dressed
Her fervour at its best
For he, her love was waiting
A reunion, they both were anticipating

Higher and faster she was running
As her impatience, the day was dawning
The dawning of pleasure should not be delayed
The climax of cuddle shan’t be underplayed

Higher and faster went her pace
Fatigue and ecstasy overwhelmed her face
She pierced the crowd without much dawdle
When the street roared a crash and crackle

She ran fast to meet her hubbby
Not faster than approaching wagon-buggy
While she was striving and dashing sans rest
Those big wheels ran over her breast

The pink turned red and of pain she fell
Out of crowd came he, saw her and yelled
He came to her to count her five
But learned soon she was striving for life

He clasped her hard and tears mixed with red
She put her head on his lap and said
George O’ George I couldn’t deliver my promise here
But oh my mate, I shall wait for you there

As tears left his eyes he murmured,
Oh unfaithful’ your promise sank undelivered
You pledged of always being together
So now I escort you to the world other

Said this, he picked the spiky glass pane
with no thought, slit it over his vain
Red stream rushed, took shapes on ground
Satisfied, he slouched beside with a sigh profound

He aroused, kissed her lips, now lifeless
His soul wept as her bosom he pressed
Seeing his next act, a shiver left each spine
Stabbing himself, he popped out his intestine

From benign priest, to sadist callous
The entire crowd shed tears countless
As it envied the bond that lived and depart
Their graves were hence placed least apart

Their love succumbed here, unregarded
Yet fate made them to remain unparted
Their love was redefined miles above
Above pristine clouds met two spirits, like dove

Free from clutches of pain and pleasure
They found that belongingness, with celestial treasure
As eyes met, tears mixed with passion
And angels blessed this platonic association

~Abhishek Mishra

Jun 17, 2010

Why People Change ?

Below white dots, when thoughts are pink
I ease with the breeze and often think
and a gloomy thought wets me from rain
that people around me, why they change?

A lamb in love licks butcher’s hand
about to slaughter its throat till end
Till final blow, it remains sane
then people around me, why they change?

They cuddle a garland in other’s neck
But after marriage, weaken their pledge
that throat once flowered, is still the same
then people around me, why they change?

Those lovers, were so serenely sentimental
Have turned so obscenely corporeal
If flesh in the bed and grave is same
then people around me, why they change?

A child weeps when her anger he bears
but sobs her mother’s name in those tears
if gravity of relation can never be blamed
then people around me alas… why they change.

~Abhishek Mishra