RAIN

From the pen-APN

When the music of rain

Soaks the green leaves

And the rivulets dance

And muddy fields are reborn  

Then in a lonely place

Far from sight

Splashing with joys

Of togetherness and love

Life gathers up

The Golden moments

Of love and human bonding

While the clouds are still raining…

Milk

From the pen-APN

Utter poverty had sucked the lifeblood of the mother and her feeble body was no more lactating. And the famished baby in her lap was crying desperately for a few drops of milk. All her efforts to relieve the child went in vain. Then gradually the cry stopped, and the baby showed no signs of struggle for attention. The helpless mother stood like a motionless statue looking with hunger-filled eyes at the vibrant coloured packets of milk winking through the glass doors of a well-stocked shop. The baby was no more crying and tears had dried at the corners of her eyes…
N.B.
(What is the value of that policy which does not include the welfare of the poorest of the poor of my state???)

A Kingly Madness

From the pen-APN

Standing in the middle of a busy road, he was stretching his body to his full height like a great emperor. His bearded face like Chatrapati Sivaji, his skyward gaze to the mid-day blazing sun and his hand movements in kingly gestures were all creating an unusual but spectacular sight for the onlookers.  

His eyes were replete with flashes of happiness and it teemed with courage. He did not seem to belong to the world around him but he was stamping his feet rhythmically on the earth like a monarch and was turning around sporadically not caring a damn for the people passing by him or around him.   He was just happy in his own ways irrespective of the remarks and the sneering looks of all spectators. He was the king of his own world.

The sun above corroborated his king like manners by shedding its light upon him.  He was talking to the lampposts, to the tall buildings and to himself. And all of them stood motionless as if they could recognize a regal importance in him and never interfered with the frenzied ecstatic movements. His torn clothes, unkempt hair and dirty appearance rightly matched the appearance of a warrior who had returned from a war front after a deadly struggle.

They chuckled and called him, “MAD” but he was a king of his thoughts. Neither the sun, nor the tall buildings, nor the lampposts revolted against his claims…..And he indeed enjoyed the king’s life in spite of his torn clothes, unkempt hair and bearded face, because he cared not a damn about the remarks of the so-called sane persons.