Category Archives: Countries

Leaving the country

a poem by

Though I left you and departed for good to another land
I left behind a thousand memories to cherish
The utmost care which I got from all of you
I will never get in this side of the world
Since I will miss you my friends Udit and Arou
I will miss the laughter and giggles that we had together
The tongue will never utter a word of love any more
As the path to another world is fearsome
And since now I am departing from all of you
I will never get another glimpse of the happy me
I will be like a guest from another world
Who is unsettled from her kin and friends
Who still lives in the dream world.


a poem by

Wait a minute
Clean road
Deadly toad
Clean cities
Fox trot
Rot mind.
Culture yardstick
Spit, dirt
Mar the names
Roar, inept
With no real cause
False indict.
Is thus stand?
Disgrace weak
Chuck the meek.
Over stone and sand
Bring into disrepute
Hurl abuse
Chill kind, perfect whiteout!

Accumulative Words

a poem by

To feel something
Rigid and completely literal
Like a lithe unction inside
A hardwired sentimental body of water

But the cleanest of other mothers
Declaimed in charred char-speak
That poetry is lies
And nothing but
Burnt actions


a poem by

Climate talks slow with the wind
Perching the flower through
Dust of blowing rays of wonderland
People talk fast with the wind
Perching the girls through
Dust of blowing money and wealth

Wonder where the heaven is?
Was there really heaven
Was there really god
Was there really peace
Do we exist?
Are the mankind superior
Or the nature

Journey from India to Australia

a poem by

Though I have left you behind, Ma, in the homeland,
I have with me in this alien land your blessings.
Papa, though I have left you behind in the homeland
your faith and your words of wisdom are my companions here.
Though I have left you alone in the homeland my brother
your love is with me in the threads of the ‘Rakhi’ I make.
Friends Pooja and Anu, though I have left you behind there
with me are memories of our childhood and adolescence.

With me are memories- that sparkle in my waking dreams:
the golden sands of Pushkar, the serene lakes of Ajmer,
peeping from my window the lamps on the road of my colony.
Shimmer, the first rain-washed leaves of the Peepul (tree),
the intoxicating flowers of the Neem (tree) in Spring,
the misty evenings of early Winter,
the mango-laden trees of peak Summer.

The tree has just been transplanted on a new soil,
but the roots run where there are founts of love,
of affection, of friendship; in every vein is that soil that is life.

New roots will grow gradually,
in time will the tree firm up in the adopted garden, and will flower again;
new fruit will form, seeds will scatter again,
will sprout- saplings will rise whose roots will be here,
whose trunks will muscle up with this soil but strengthen my own land some day…

Still somewhere in the core will be the echoes- of the land
where the grandfather tree stood, of the flute of the original seed;
the sitars of the of culture will twinkle somewhere in the background,
the rhythms of the drums of Delhi fairs and temples will be in the feet.

The tree will flower again.
The tongue will stutter, yet will try to talk the dialect of the world
where there is Ma, and Papa, and
Bhaiyya (Brother) and Chacha (uncle) where even the stranger is ‘brother’,
where the guest is not Paul or Ram not Mary or Maya but Uncle and Auntie.
The tongue will try to utter a few syllables of love.
This a vision of the waking eyes, not a mere dream!

Australia, you a lucky first world country,
a vagrant migrant from Hindustan God’s own country is in search of identity.
A floating seed is struggling to grow roots.
Alien’s the soil, seasons contrary here down under, the heart restless.
The guest is unsettled away from his kin,anxious.
Dear host, be a little patient. Lives she still in waking dreams of home.


a poem by

A beautiful little place,
With so many different ways.
Pearl diving is very famous there,
For this, a swimsuit is not what you wear!

Their native language is Arabic,
The ice cream there is lovely to lick.
At the moment Shaikh Hamad is the King of Bahrain,
HRH’s clothes are very clean without a stain.

The women there wear a black dress,
They are very clean without a mess.
I love this country very much,
I am glad I was born in a place of such!

World Peace and Equality

a poem by

Countries that boast of great democracy
Don’t permit in U.N. that democracy.
As long as countries cling to Veto Power
U.N. can only be a beautiful paper power.
If a few countries want their supremacy
There can’t be world peace or Equality.

Countries vie with each other in eloquence
Float slogans and pass lovely resolutions.
Peace doesn’t come by mere resolutions;
Equality demands sacrifice and adjustments.

Those who are heaping nuclear weapons
Advise other countries against such weapons.
Those who adversely spoil world’s ecology
Do not bother about their first responsibility.
Affluent nations use all their strong muscles
To keep others as their market for profits.

Dialogues’ transformative power is slow
And selfish interests will never follow;
Dialogues must be followed by keen
And planned non-violent non-cooperation.
There is no country in the world which is
Self sufficient in everything that it needs.

Let all non-Veto nations bring sanctions
Against all the arrogant Veto nations;
Let all developing countries boycott
Selfish and indifferent developed countries;
Let eco-friendly nations unite against
Adamant spoilers of Earth’s ecology.

Perhaps what is needed is a world body / Forum
That excludes Veto powers, Super powers and
Very rich countries that harm Earth’s ecology
And remain insensitive to the global priority.

Colours of India

a poem by

There exists a country called India,
Somewhere on this vast planet Earth.
To each of her billion children,
Her vivid hues are of limitless worth.

The people and culture of this country
Have an essence too multi-hued to capture.
And I will make a sincere attempt to describe
The rainbow that sends me into a rapture.

Almost every citizen has intense saffron faith
Which they are ever ready to defend…
And dazzling white trust in their God
Though calamities their homes do rend.

There is no Indian who won’t surrender
To the beauty of a sudden friendship yellow.
Or pass up a chance to be of maroon service
To an ailing or helpless fellow.

The village farmers will confess freely
How much they value their fields green.
And city dwellers love their materialistic world too
It never seems to lose its silver sheen.

Shrewd politicians strut in their purple cloaks
And Bollywood does the same under golden arclights…
Healers in India are as soothing as sky blue
And the Mithaiwala dispenses candied pink delights.

Then there are the policemen and drivers;
In their khaki uniforms they serve…
And our brave navy blue Armed Forces
Don’t ever hesitate or lose their nerve.

A rainbow contains all colours
Not discriminating the ugly from the pleasant.
And that is why even in India
There are some repulsive colours present.

India unfortunately contains many criminals
Thieves and murderers with hearts pitch black.
And of the millions of grey market traders
It is not possible for anyone to keep track.

Though every hit and run accident and
Conmen and liars make me see red.
It saddens me further to see the poor
Toiling in brown drains to earn their bread.

Amongst all the darkness, India still shines bright,
Our desi brains have won many accolades…
May we continue to strive for the greater good
And put up a show as colourful as our National Day parades!


a poem by

A holy land with great religious importance,
A fertile land with tremendous agricultural significance.
A land with great heritage and culture,
A land with no cruelty and torture.
A land where great scholars are born,
A land where the character is not worn.
A nation with true democratic spirit,
A country with scientific and technological credit.
An island with evergreen environment,
A nation racing away rapidly towards development.
A land with great love and compassion,
A country with strong and ideal foundation.
An endless sea of great knowledge and wisdom,
It is a vast unrulable kingdom.
This is my great motherland India,
Where we can find a lots of bindhiya.

Oh Orlando, Here We Part

a poem by

Oh Orlando, here we part,
Memories of you, flood my heart
My mind, my soul, my very being,
Will miss you dearly, of you shall sing.
Oh Orlando, here we part,
Your little gifts, seem miles apart
Happy moments, good times and friends,
Precious gifts of love, and all Godsend.
Oh Orlando, here we part,
How did this moment, come so fast?
Why did it come, why can’t it go,
This toxic moment, makes me so low.
Oh Orlando, here we part,
With tear-filled eyes, I depart
Leaving behind, my soft little heart,
I now board Delta Airlines flight, the last.
Oh Orlando! I am gone
Miss me too, when times seem long
Sing for me, a goodbye song,
To return to you,I’ll always long!

Maltese Delights

a poem by

Malta, the island of beauty and sunshine,
As pretty as the charms, on my windchime
Everything here in perfect rhyme,
Is full of love, free of crime!
Life’s tensions here just melt away,
Under the sun, strong all day
On snow-white beaches pink flowers lay,
Winking at the sun, smiling all day!
In the distance rugged mountains stand,
With pointed peaks, beauty of this land
Watching dolphins frolic and kids play,
Makes you feel, bright and gay!
Jaw-dropping beauty all around,
Happiness splashed, wherever you trod
Trees sway joyfully – up, down and round,
Enjoying the wind’s, hoo-hoo sound!
Rocky coves and sandy bays,
Kiss my arms, the naughty sun’s rays
Oh how I will miss these days,
Of goodness spent, filled with grace!

America, Freedom and Liberty

a poem by

You are enslaved there, don’t worry;
America is here watching in worry;
Waiting for chance to see you free;
Making sure you enjoy true liberty.

Slavery! Forbidden from freedom!
America not compromising! Never;
We live, we die for beloved freedom;
Against slavery our toes up forever.

Don’t misunderstand we want rule;
Don’t misunderstand if we are cool;
We don’t like slavery, not anywhere;
Our hands all up to still it anywhere.

We love America, we also love you;
You too love liberty, much as we do.
America joins hands not for territory;
America joins hands only with liberty.


a poem by

People danced in ecstasy
Freedom tasted sweeter than honey
What more could one ask than this fantasy
Its worth didn’t sink in yet is funny

Struggle for the freedom was colossal,
But taken for granted is the result
Manipulated poor remain docile
Line of division was drawn across cult

Fights for trivial reasons are several
Value for the priced freedom is buried
Differences among the castes are upheaval
Opinions of the rulers are varied
United lets keep aloft the flag of independence
And promise to rise above dependence


a poem by

High up in air and
deep down on earth;
Away far in desert
and way back in forest;
Amidst a crowd of riches
and between the street slums;
Middle of the sea or
in the busy street;
I am proud of my country,
and proud to be its citizen.
I would say with my head high:
I am an Indian.

Sweet Home

a poem by

Thus caws the crow miles away,
Winking on a sun-drenched day
Surrounded by the vast bluish sea,
With pockets of mixed humanity
With high rising concrete sky line
And scattered trees forming bee-line
Orderliness, cleanliness the order of the day
Mechanically, electronically inhabitants sway
So much on creations of man and machines to allure
But, ask thy neighbor who his neighbor is, he goes obscure
Well, that’s the state of affairs here
In this part of fast frenzy world dear.
My home land, though not equipped with all of these
Still carries tradition, culture, heritage, bonding and love in breeze
Truly she stands up as pure as gold
I can proudly say that she is the best in this entire world
Let it be Singapore, Switzerland, Geneva or Rome,
My home in India is always sweet home.