Friday, January 2, 2015
Life without colours
Came here after a long time,
Finally got free from mine self built cage of sustainability,
How could I let me be fooled and get trapped?
Trapped around those ghastly towers of concrete!
Was I in too much doubt about my own creator?
That I questioned my own old ways of survival.
And leaving behind the calm and serene abode,
I surrendered myself to be imprisoned in the dungeon
Anyways I have come back now,
To my very own origin.
The place from where I commenced,
My voyage that would lead me to my own doom.
I am sure she would take me back with a smile
Heart of a mother is always ready to forgive
So chaste and pure
Like a divine and heavenly soul
But what do I see here!
What happened to my Mother Nature?
What did you do to her my siblings?
Why is she so gloomy and withered?
Why is that grass so pale which used to be so green?
This place looks like a desert as if greenery has never been.
And what happened to the sky which used to be so blue?
Now looking at me face down as if he’s ashamed of losing his hue.
Where’s that gusty breeze?
The warm breath of my Mother,
Where’s that ravishing rivulet in the woods?
Which used to flow through her bosom to feed me.
What have you done to her fledglings,
The wonderful oaks, pines and spruce.
Why like a unruly tyrant my sibs,
You cut off their head for some wright’s use.
Where are those red roses that used to shine so bright,
Like a princess drying her locks in the deck at sunlight.
What happened to the daisies and the tulips too,
Who once filled our gardens and now left so few!
Where are all the moths and the mighty monarch,
Those unanimous kings of wings…in air who used to march.
And where are all those sparrows and the miry magpies,
In our veranda all day who used to roam and lie.
No doubt my brothers you can always boast,
That how you turned a divine hamlet into a town of ghosts,
That for the path of development that we laid,
Slaughtering our own nest was the price that we paid.
What will you tell to the ones who are yet to take birth,
That places so bright in old pictures now seem to be in dearth.
What will you say when they’ll ask- What have you done?
Where’s the fiery ball of fire that you used to call as Sun?
Smog will be covering whole sky even at noon,
Though it won’t be dark, but you would still see a moon.
Would you be able to point their little finger so light,
At the moonlike sun which will appear to be white.
Colours are not just crayons used to show a child’s imagination,
They depict the life around us, things we see through our vision.
Meddling with nature’s ways has never gone great,
Life without colours, is like palm with no line of fate.
Let’s bring an end to this devastation we have done,
Bring back those mystique tints to our mother, and be a good son.
We have done enough for ourselves and now it’s time that we commence,
Take a true step forward to enrich lives of our descendants, not just pretend.