scribbling under a tree...
by Arawat Kumar Reloaded on Tuesday, October 4, 2011 at 11:17pm ·
UNDER THE OLD NEEM TREE
And again my favorite place,
the comfortable seat of an old neem tree,
is taken by some sulking creature.
This time it is a young blind boy.
Oh! The miseries of this treacherous world,
have presented the sad glimpse
to this poor blind chap also!
Well, I think in some of my wasting moments,
which I proudly acclaim to be-
my secret, sad and philosophical hours,
that does the old neem tree feel the same?
Does it feel the same for me?
Sulking under the old neem tree?
For a moment even if I think,
That there is this huge old tree…
a witness to my unending sorrow.
Then what about this blind friend,
who doesn’t even know,
that he is sitting under a tree?
The basket of pain we think,
is heaviest on our own heads.
But, utterly wrong are we proven,
When every day we see another person…
Whose basket makes his steps tremble,
Under the hot Indian sun!
And perhaps he would crash,
Or drown like an unfortunate ship…
which lost its direction,
in the midst of a vast and cloudy ocean…
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