STORY TELLERS

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