STORY TELL­ERS

Friday - - Contents -

A page for read­ers to share their views, thoughts, sto­ries and po­ems.

While on a stroll re­cently, we saw a huge num­ber of mi­gra­tory birds. That’s when my son asked me a ques­tion and it trig­gered this poem... My son asked me a ques­tion – It’s some­thing we need to give a thought. Why do men have pass­ports, And birds have them not? How come throngs of birds Mi­grate to dif­fer­ent coun­tries? Why not, like hu­mans, we call them Im­mi­grants and refugees? Why isn’t there such a hue and cry To al­low them or al­low them not? Why, oh why, do men com­pli­cate life And are bat­tles and wars fought? Why were these pass­ports, Im­mi­gra­tion rules and bound­aries made? To move about in God’s own beau­ti­ful world Why do we need gates? I was dumb­founded And an­swer I could not Ques­tions so in­no­cent Yet filled with pro­found thought. Anagha Trikan­nad Do I write po­ems? I vaguely re­mem­ber that I used to put words to­gether, which would rhyme, Un­til one day my friend said… Voila! It’s a poem that you have writ­ten and that I should be writ­ing more of these. It’s high time I re­alised that words will never de­ceive you when you want to share your thoughts. How­ever, in ac­tions it may be dif­fi­cult to put it across. And who knows, as you un­ravel the po­ems of other read­ers when they share the thoughts they hold, you might come across an­other topic for next week, which will trig­ger our mind and mo­ti­vate us to share the sto­ries un­told. Deepika Chawla Sto­ries un­told, vi­sions un­seen The depth of imag­i­na­tion Lies deep, deep in­side Hung in sor­rows, left un­heard Sto­ries un­told, vi­sions un­seen Sparks a light some­where around De­spite its flaws, and de­spite its woe, Springs from within, to the path of light Sto­ries un­told, and vi­sions un­seen Blos­soms on the apex of the spire And yes, its too good to be true A pen, is might­ier than a sword. Karthika Vi­jay Go­ing GAGA over Credit Cards E-World … Where’s the Ex world gone?! From gro­cer to banker with an E-Grin! Elec­tronic Credit Cards! E-Buy! Needn’t go miles and miles to fetch, With one-touch but­ton Ama­zon brings the world home! Amaz­ing! An empty pocket with fills in fifty? Never fret… Credit cards in plenty! Swipe, swipe un­til the credit ex­ceeds Wife splurges on lav­ish things Later re­grets she’s be­ing a credit card-buff ! Credit Card’s hi-fi ex­pla­na­tion goes ‘Bor­row­ing in a so­phis­ti­cated style’ Olden days say ‘debt is dan­ger­ous’, Dead against a dis­ci­plined life! Know some­thing? World lives in a vir­tual world, Virus breed­ing, val­ues de­grad­ing Is any credit card pro­mot­ing val­ues? Sell­ing love, re­spect, peace, fam­ily bind­ing… Please let me know! The world in toil looks for­ward to E–VAL­UES! Clare Fran­cis THE CREAM OF OREO Like two sides of a coin, they stuck to­gether, Friends for­ever, al­ways there for each other. They didn’t care that they were heads and tails – poles apart, Since they were friends not by brains but by heart. He would al­ways lis­ten to all her rants and tales, And smile when­ever he recog­nised all the var­nished de­tails. It didn’t make a dif­fer­ence whether he was wrong or right, She would de­fend him none­the­less, with all her might. To­gether they formed an Oreo, two bis­cuits – kept in sync, The cream of friend­ship be­ing their link. Mahika Sethi My poem ‘Af­ter­math’ is my tribute to un­re­quited love: You gave me an odyssey of pain, My san­ity is now hard to re­gain! Oh tell me how these long la­bo­ri­ous days will pass When it is you every mo­ment who I ask! For a frac­tion of time, you gave me bliss Now that joy sub­lime I shall miss! Re­la­tions prom­ises are so easy to make… and break I now know that all you promised was fake! This storm of re­jec­tion I have to bear Know­ing in my heart, that you just don’t care! Bobby Ra­machan­dran

‘Be the man of my thoughts. Reign my king­dom of dreams. Be the war­rior in every bat­tle I fight. As time lapses. I seek you ea­gerly. Among all the fad­ing faces in my fan­tasies.’ Fathima Sha­reef

Dur­ing my first year in Dubai, when it rained one evening, this poem, mixed with the mem­ory of my moth­er­land gushed forth. I wrote it in my con­sul­ta­tion room. RAIN IN DUBAI It came alas, at last Like an un­ex­pected guest By knock­ing on my win­dow­panes As I stood watch­ing by. I thought it’s my doves Back home af­ter the wan­der The flut­ter of their feath­ers And their beaks on the glasses It came in the wings of wind Drench­ing the passers by Though caught un­awares They smile and smile with joy. Chil­dren down the street Pick up the hail­stones a lot. They save it in their fridges To watch it on and on. Back again in the rain In this city of joy Mem­o­ries flood my heart Past across the seas. As I watch it rain I be­come the child Back my mem­ory flies Across the emer­ald green fields. As I cross the fields, I stop by the ponds near by To see the king fish sail Un­der the crys­tal veil. Comes the rain again, Fast, down the hill Chases us back to school Into the rain drenched class­rooms. And it rains again in the night Drum­ming the roof aloud Mixed with the clam­our of ci­cadas and toads Makes a per­fect band. I slip into the blan­ket so warm And into the safety of dreams The mu­sic fills my sleep On and on into the night. Back to my city of joy Streets be­come clear in front. The rain has ended and it’s cool Peo­ple are back to the streets. Back home are my doves They tap on my win­dow panes. Shake the droplets away With the flut­ter of their wings. It has rained into our souls, The burn­ing ones for long. We will cher­ish it for ever, And the rain might come again. Dr Salam C Kandi The re­cent Syr­ian chem­i­cal gas at­tack left a scar on my heart. The pic­ture of the fa­ther cradling his twins’ dead bod­ies has been haunt­ing me for past few days. I penned down my feel­ings in a poem. And the best place to share is Fri­day! I cra­dle you… In the bat­tered land, I am a long-lost trav­eller. You touched my hand My heart be­came a rev­eller. With a fancy hope I cra­dle you… In the bizarre land, I am the wretched refugee. Your smile was a mag­i­cal wand. My life be­came less gloomy. In my arms, I cra­dle you... In the tat­tered land, I am the im­mor­tal fa­ther. Your lit­tle body was ready for the sand As fumes of death spared no tod­dler With my cud­dled shield I cra­dle you… Like a sea-washed land, My soul Is now damp. Quiv­er­ing in the grave­yard I stand. Your sealed lips and shut eyes Wish I could re­vamp. But still I cra­dle you... Devi Vaidehi, Shar­jah

Wrote a poem ONCE Took over TWO months Made me feel like a dunce Priya Mal­ho­tra

This poem was com­posed when I was work­ing for a com­pany in Dubai be­tween 2000 and 2009. It was shared dur­ing the farewell func­tion of my boss. I had a great work­ing re­la­tion­ship with him. You made me very com­fort­able when we met first That en­abled me to give my best. You al­ways en­cour­aged me Hence the re­sults you could see We did not hes­i­tate to dis­cuss, de­bate and ar­gue on any mat­ter Which re­sulted al­ways in good re­sults later. You al­ways kept things sim­ple So there was not much grum­ble All the projects we did to­gether Shall re­main in mem­ory for­ever When­ever we trav­elled to­gether It was al­ways fun and learn­ing with­out much bother. Today when we of­fi­cially meet for the last time Let me say from the depth of my heart All the very best for your fu­ture I pray that you are blessed with all the plea­sure. Bosses like you are very few So, I can never for­get you! Shankar Subra­ma­nian

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