Sharp a Contrast!

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Save us from the wrath of the day,

In shorts with folded hands,

Bowing our heads to the Goddess, we used to say,

Our class queues ascended in that assembly,

From shorts to trousers, cardigans to blazers we grew gradually,

The Poet now ran in our veins, Tagore rang in our ears,

His verses stood against time,

A part and parcel of our morning prayers,

Our pledge for life to fulfil His dreams,

Where men would radiate parity beams,

No matter how fair ripened their cream,

They’d to work on only themselves, individually,

Each drop should contribute to an ocean someday,

An ocean of voices, thoughts and actions for equality,

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Ten years down the line,

Now a stranger to that school,

Caught up in tougher currents of life,

I was coming down from a relative’s birthday party,

Stopped to pick up fags on my way, three hours to midnight,

A vegetable seller was getting home, back from his day’s work,

His only helper, his seven year old kid walked beside,

Adolescent eyes to the shop shone, ran the kid towards me,

There was something that he wanted to buy,

“Biscuits, I need them Dad”, he screamed back,

A big smile on his face, forgotten the day’s hard work,

Two local bakery biscuits, he’d won it all it seemed,

Biting into it slowly he walked ahead, elated in leaps,

“It’s already dinner time,” cribbing, his father followed,

The birthday that I’d just attended, seven turned a six year old,

She almost wrecked havoc in that decorated venue,

Her parents had brought her a new Samsung tablet phone,

Unhappy she growled at them,

“You know what I wanted a Sony Xperia Z,

Now I can’t even think of snaps marine.

Clicking those fishes with my hands dipped in that aquarium,

How will I click underwater while I swim with my pals?”

I overheard, switched into a state of shock,

Quickly recollected my naked little analogue years,

Pinched myself back to reality to find her sitting gloomy,

Her mom was away to change the handset,

The party continued, but I ate and left,

Saved myself of the predictable drama in store ahead,

And here I was, igniting both the fag and the engine, stray dogs bark,

The vegetable seller, his kid and cart fade away in the dark,

I sigh in wonder, “how sharp can be that contrast!”

Missed Tagore, his innocent world with light for all,

I drove away with our pledge, the Poet’s dream gargling on my mind…

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Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

 

Image Credits:

http://mpbfhsschool.com/

https://www.facebook.com/childllabour2012

http://lazy-lizard-tales.blogspot.in

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6 thoughts on “Sharp a Contrast!

  1. Hi Debaroon,

    Once again you have penned a great verse and I wish to acknowledge you for that.What jumped out at me are the following lines, and I quote,

    “Each drop should contribute to an ocean someday,

    An ocean of voices, thoughts and actions for equality,”

    That is an inspiring hope isn’t it? But as you think of today, can you list one action that you took which supported this hope? Would you agree that this is the only way we can honour great poets like Tagore?

    Shakti

    • I stand form on my faith that it is humans that matter, and not their cast and creed…

      N I teach poor children, I do my bit….That is how my breaks to observe…

      Thank U for your words and your views..I cherish each and every one of them….

  2. And, more, if each one of us, we try to at least think in a way that we blink impartial eyes towards beings around us, we can together make a lot of difference..It is nothing that impossible…:)

  3. I agree with Shakti, the lines he pointed out are great. But for me, the line that was my very favorite, was: Caught up in tougher currents of life. The most important factor in poetry, is words and rhythm and selection of them in their position against the others. We just discussed this in our poetry class. I made a comment to my fellow poets that if you use a word as simple as (the, an, it) make sure it is the best possible word in support of it’s others, but to stand on its own as well. You have such a phenomenal grasp of words and their power. And this reflects in your poetry. You have a gift my friend. And you remind me of a young man who was much too wise for his time. Deep. Jim Morrison was considered a singer/poet. His words far more potent than the chords that embraced them. A treat indeed to read this. Sharing it now!

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