5 petals

This is a real one. Every morning I set out of my house for college. The bus stand is one kilometer away. Walking down the lane I come across school kids, vegetable market, butcher’s shops, truck parking area and hanuman’s temple. Just before the temple I take a turn and walk through a sub path and here I meet the town shepherd. Wonder why I am calling him a town shepherd, simply he is a shepherd and he is in a town. Dirty white dhoti, cream color kurta and distinct style of white pagdi (do u know rajesthani men are depict by their pagdi and the way they wear it). Every morning I see him sitting beside the sheep. Sometime beating them with an old stick to align them in the 20/20 meter building plot and rest of the time goofing up in one corner. Rarely he does talks to anyone else. With his distinct posture and photogenic expression he looks at the passer-by with mercy eyes but tough attitude. It seems sometime that the sheep are the only friend he is having in this whole world!! Seem...

THE MORNING HUG The night it seems pitch dark; Except a thin lining of moon mark. The ground is warp with mist and fog; Far somewhere can be heard the howling dog. The wind was playing hide and seek; Whistling through the long and messy bamboo’s whisk. The shadows were seems mysteriously evil; Tur tur tur beetles sounds no less than devil. Believe it or not you have to trust; The only shelter was the marooned rusty hut. Located in the center of jungle with door shut; All you can find on it is the thick layers of dust. From thin air a beautiful angle appears; Wearing a pretty white gown looks amazingly fair. The jungle dance as birds chirrup in joy; As if the queen of queens is on its convoy. She steps on the stair and the candle glow; Everything submerges in golden dust as harmony flow. The blue eye prince came out of the dewpond; Soon their eyes bind them into a hypnotic bond. Lily of joy and rose of love blossom up; The hut too turns ...

This is the 1st ever writen poem by me. i wrote it in tenth class in mere 15 mins. A night when fall I am in the hall The day are cold I was bed rolled I dreamed very sweet With a little twist I saw I grew old And my mother she told Do u want to marry? I viewed with dary But she kept on repeted I kept on shifted At last she scold Ask me Whom you want to hold? Maren or Colen But none of them are known I say both of them are same With a little shame My mother herself choose I became a little goose I think it’s a joke But it was no less than stroke When she fix the date Marriage folk in the gate Now no door have left I have to make a mate I say ok I cried But the girl I married I liked (little later) she is simply perfect by the inner beauty she create (Now the sun rise) The night turn to morn My heart to torn She left me alone, alone, alone. for-> 'x' well on 01.08.06 i found it from my old scrap collections.

Last year I visited Pune. My friend told me that he will pick me up from a certain location so I was waiting there. It was a remote place so buses come in every 1 or 1 ½ hour. I was standing beside an old man who was typically dressed in Gandhi topi, white but dusty dhoti and kurta. Wrinkled face and sweating, but standing still like a statue. I waited about 15 minutes and then asked for time he said 1.30 pm. Old man: Where do you want to go? I said: saswad. Old man: soon the bus will come. I said: Do u know the bus number? Old man: ya its 2… are you new to this place? I said: yes…. How long you are standing here? Old man: since last two hours . I gave him a questioning look !! He told me that although the six sitters or autos are going in every 5 min but it is charging 6 Rs and the bus fair is 3 Rs, so he is waiting here. I offered him 3 Rs but he gently nodded his head stating that he doesn’t need. I came to know the value of money from his bitter suffering. Old man: ...