Poems by Baba T V R

Child

a poem by

Baba T V R

When I was a child, my papa took me to the park for a walk
I wondered what the flowers and bees talk
I loved the colours and shapes of the flowers
And praised the Lord for the beauty he showers
I loved the cool moon in the eve
With the lovely twinkle stars above
When I grew up, I went to the same park for a walk alone
I again wondered where those flowers and bees have gone
I cried for the lost colours and shapes of the nature
And asked the Lord why it has happened like a nightmare
The Lord, in my sleep asked me – don’t you know?
You, humans are the reason for the nature as at now
You cut the trees and demolished forests
You wasted waters and dig the mountains for your nests
I am sorry, my child now you have to do something
To bring back the colours and shapes of nature
I decided then…
To plant a tree once a week
Not to waste water as a crook
And spread the same to all my friends folk.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mother is getting older

a poem by

Baba T V R

Yes, looking as ninety plus at the age of fifty
mother of 900 million children
born as twins separated at birth
mother is getting older.

Dwindled with infighting of the organs
stabbed by own sister two times
who hasn’t learnt any lessons yet
mother is getting older.

Praying for her ‘grass eating’ sons
praying for her ‘queenly daughters’
mother is getting older.

Crying for her “Bapu”, “Indiras” and “Rajivs”
crying for her children of Bhopal and Latur
crying for her children “Harsads” and “Swamys” alike
mother is getting older.

Looking for the “saviour” son for the rescue
who can fulfil the dreams of her 900 million children
not to see their mother ageing.

Mother “India” is getting older.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~