Category Archives: Man

What does a man needs to be?

A gentle man is what
One wants to be,
A courageous man is what
One intents to be,
A powerful man is what
One tries to be,
Rich man is what
One thinks to be,
What he achieves matters the least,
The path he chooses make it matters the most,
Leading a resentful life leads to nowhere as
Peaceful life opens door to everywhere.


What is thought? What is a night’s dream?
Something in reality that cannot be seen
So is man in the wrong actions he does,
noticing nothing and not making a fuss.
With all the disaster in the world,
his mind continues to wrinkle and curl.
Man has become his own enemy by intimidating his brother,
Loves slowly drifts between him and the other.
Why does he use religion, ego, and race as his subjects to fight?
Filling his brothers with hatred and fright?
Children are crying, families lost,
from guns and explosives that create a dark, unbearable frost.
Where are the ears to hear and understand these cries?
They are closed from ignorance and man dies.
The Earth is barren, the seas are calm,
the sun forever refuses to arise at dawn.
Terror seizes the minds of all life,
and one sees everywhere nothing but ammunition and knives.
Greed is destroying out beautiful Earth,
leaving nothing but pain and people hurt.
It won’t last, it will fall,
if only man destroys that greedy wall.
If he can create, then he can destroy,
simply by spreading love and joy.
Then there will be no cry or shout,
laughter and love will be all about.
But first he must make an attempt,
by encouraging others not to leave the world isolated and unkempt.
He must teach his brothers to love and cherish,
there will be no pain, and people will not perish.
God has made this world for us to enjoy,
not to hurt and destroy.
Flowers, smiles, laughs, landmarks, families, and many wonders cannot be replaced
After ammunition has demolished it and makes of it a disgrace.
Life is beautiful filled with unique colors,
and man must share them with his sisters and brothers.

Whose memory

The pastry chef, who was fired for drinking
rum meant for rich cakes and had to work
as a labourer in a cold Nordic port.

No, not a common drunk, but a man who
sang and danced in a town so drab that
the only colour allowed was the red in
the flag.

When not singing bawdy songs he spoke
of social justice till he was banned from
the docks and had to make a living selling
encyclopaedias to people, who, thought that
the bible was the only book ever written.

Although mother made him into a tragic
heroic figure I can read from a faded
picture that he had soft brown eyes which
could see the beauty of a raindrop dripping
off a window ledge and upon his lips a
tremble of a sardonic smile ready to laugh
and ridicule pomposity.

A poet who never got around writing down
what was in his heart
Precisely as I remember, my dear mother.

The Marching Brigade

Heads held high, they marched across
Across, they marched brave and strong
With valour and courage to punish all wrong
Neither worried of wealth, nor mortal loss
Wise as an owl and cunning as a fox
They march across the fields, rugged and long
Neither looking into the future for a praise-filled song
Nor expecting any worldly wealth; gross

Breaking all relations of blood; They go
Glowing with courage on every tread
Not once shivering, even when biting cold
Like a pure river of humanity, they flow
Not once stopping for water or daily bread
Marched the Brigade with hearts of pure gold.


How small the Man is
and yet full of ego
as if he is the doer
of all that goes on
not aware of
the hand of creator
and of his blessings
and his design
in the bigger things
in the life of Man.

The Liar

I know Purushottam Pingle quite well,
Friends, does the name ring a bell?
From his early days,
Persists to amaze
With the awesome lies he can tell.

With his rabbit teeth and his eyes set apart,
He’s not handsome, nor is he smart.
But the subject of lies
Brings a glint to his eyes,
He’s developed it into a fine art.

‘Truth is a bore’, says he, with conviction,
‘It requires no prior conception,
It pales in compare
With the skill and the care,
Involved in the art of deception.’

‘Why lie?’ said his friend ‘it’s no longer funny,’
Said Pingle, ‘my dear Mahbubani,
Would you rather have rice,
Devoid of all spice
For your dinner, or sumptuous biryani?’

‘The habit of truth is as dull as ditch water!’
Cried Pingle, his cheeks growing hotter,
‘It’s the drab and the dry
Who fight shy of a lie,
I won’t wish it on my enemy’s daughter.’

When the bank was robbed, cops went out of their way,
To locate the man who that day,
Had been there at that time,
And had witnessed the crime,
Who else, but our friend P. Pingle?

‘The thief’, said he, ‘was a strong man,
Who took off in a speeding, long van.’
Pingle lied without fail,
And embroidered his tale
So well, the police caught the wrong man.

The real thief, in relief, turned out so nice-
Of his loot, he gave Pingle a fair slice.
‘I’m rich’ cried Pingle,
‘I knew lies would pay!
I’m so glad that I took my own advice.’

Man and Animal

First it was an animal
Progress made him man
Darwin’s Evolution theory
Explains as best as it can.

When did the animal;
The human brain secure?
Which stage of evolution
Desire for knowledge grew more?

When knowledge was for progress
Saner causes did it find
Used for personal, selfish needs
And knowledge became of unsound kind.

As in jungle, brutish beasts behave,
In our cultured society, humans rave.
Some are outspoken, some discreet
Trampling future of others
With their damned feet!

His Grace

Once upon a time
There was an arrogant man.
He never liked to walk
Because he always ran.
He was in a hurry
‘Big ones’ would be scared of his fury.
Fortune favoured
And let him fly
He fell from ‘His Grace’
The man crashed
To die.

The Last Man

The last man
it seems
always reaches last.

People come and talk
and go in their own directions.

The last man is
always there
to listen, to clap.

He is the last man to speak
to a menless audience;
But when he speaks
thousands claps heard together.

Waiting Matters

Fast is man’s pace-
Rocketing beyond space,
Webbing across cyberspace:
Yet waiting has much relevance !

Mother Nature certainly is patient-
Trees have years inside seeds spent.
Buds wait for the proper moment
To blossom and waft their scent.

Eggs hatch on the precise date,
Feathers appear at the set gait;
Nestlings must but wait
To fly and for the season to mate.

Neither is birth fast or easy-
The womb must but carry
For the counted days the baby
Till the mother’s happy delivery.

It is after so many semesters
And studious, exam papers
Any university a degree confers.
Wait again for the job one prefers!

Queues are endless here and abroad-
Be it for the ration card or the green card,
Or for the green signal on the crowded road.
And the last wait is for life’s burden to unload!

Soul Searching

I am desperate desperate desperate
I wanna expatriate
I wanna break off the shell
That surrounds us like hell

I wanna speak my heart out
Go places and wander about
Understanding man and his thought
And what his soul sought

Man spend his life loathing
He doesn’t care for any preaching
But we know the truth that’s the whole thing
That man’s destined to do things amazing

Why doesn’t he do that?
What blocks his way?
Why does he rot
Just like a bunch of hay?

All this is because
There is no pause
In man’s thoughts process
Just think a bit, have recess

But, it is never too late
Don’t just worry about fate
Man can do anything
All he needs a little soul searching

What’s his aim he gotta know
Nothing is impossible, you better know
Ambitious man gets past the sea
No wonder, even sky is not the limit, you see

Tears from Heaven

Adam and Eve’s first bite of the apple;
Marks Satan’s entrance in the Holy Chapel.

Through centuries of human generation:
Threat to mankind’s regeneration.

Good and Evil surviving side by side:
To a new Era, opens a door so wide.

Enemy of mankind, is mankind itself;
Can’t man be just himself.

Dreams of fame and glory;
Makes him spread pain and misery.

Millions of years that Earth has seen;
In glorious silence that nature has been.

As Earthquakes and Volcanoes haunt Earth’s geography;
In the evolution, Man, nature’s worst catastrophe.

Earth’s future, hopeless in Man’s hands;
God’s dreams of paradise, buried in deep sands.

He who gave forty days of thunder and rain;
Rendering mankind clean of all sin.

He shall decide Man’s fate and shall contemplate;
To decide, it is already too late.

Yet to make, a heart breaking decision;
To punish his favoured creation.

Accept the undaunted truth, destruction precedes evolution;
To save Earth from mankind, to recreate nature’s creation.

Save us from the web of evil that Satan has woven;
All I ask, Unleash the tears from heaven.

When you decide

When I am in a dilemma:
I wish I were Dalai Lama,

To sail with absolute peace of mind:
To hail he who is supreme and kind,

Make the best of what is left:
There is always a choice between life and death.

The first step taken towards your goal:
Hope not brings along its toll.

Think of all the souls around you:
Yet, what matters most is YOU.

All the prayers before you sleep at night:
May not put an end to your plight.

It might take your time so precious:
Opens a doorway to a life so veracious.

All the rewards that you might plunder:
You have to face the consequences of a blunder.

Don’t be afraid, Don’t be weak:
Success or failure never stays at the peak.

Each and every step in life you take:
All the decisions that you have to make.

Each in itself is a whole new world:
To live through it, that’s what makes you bold.

Throughout life, each and every season:
To start with, Just learn your lesson.

When you decide,
Decide to decide.

I pay my homage

I pay my homage to the immortal man,
Whose wisdom made me a real man.

I pay my homage to the immortal man,
Whose gratitude made me an honest man.

I pay my homage to the immortal man,
Whose love and tender feeling made me a kind man.

I pay my homage to the immortal man,
Whose struggle drove tears from my eyes.

I pay my homage to the immortal man,
Whose capacity to work made me a hard-working man.

Noah’s Arc

The strength of a clown,
covers the personal frown;

Though part of the mask,
the crux of his task.

Of all, it is so contagious;
makes life so hilarious.

Mark of a warm welcome;
soothing as talcum.

Makes people feel so comfortable;
yet thinking ‘Is it the sign of trouble?’.

Beautiful as the moon;
as you say ‘See you soon’.

Hides beneath it everything dark;
mysterious as the noah’s arc.

Beautiful as the Nile;
the million dollar smile.