Souvick

Souvick

Friday, 28 December 2012

Story of the Little Birdie



It was a fine golden time
Which was expected for nine months
When the tiny egg got hatched
And the little birdie came to earth.

‘Welcome,’ said mummy, with a smile on her face
And a tear of happiness rolling down her eye.
‘My daughter is a princess,’ said papa
As he took her in his lap.
She brought a glaze in every face
Who had been waiting for this day.
She cried a baby’s cry
But made a hundred faces smile.

And thus the days kept passing by.
The birdie now went to school.
She got many friends who were like her
Together, they fluttered around in joy.

She became a pet of her teachers
And was the life of her parents.
She was a darling of her brother
And a pride of her friend-circle.

The little birdie saw her mother.
Like her she wanted to fly.
She fluttered her wings, tried and tried
Fell down, got hurt, cried, and again tried.

And then one fine morning,
She could see herself fly.
She flew around and sang around
And danced around with great joy.
Her loved ones watched her from the ground
‘Our birdie has grown so big,’ they were spellbound.

The birdie, now a little bigger
Saw her father struggling so hard.
She had a wish to stand on her feet
She wanted to give her best
And be the ‘man’ of the nest.

While on other hand she had a dream
A prince birdie would marry her.
He’d take her to his kingdom,
And they’d stay happy forever.

And one evening
When she was flying happily with her friends,
Some eagles saw her from a distance.
Not her, but her feathers.

And when the birdie was alone,
They took a chance and pounced on her.
She couldn’t understand anything.
She was too innocent to get them.

And when she finally knew everything,
It was too late. Too late.
She cried. She wanted to run away.
But all her struggles went in vain.

The hungry eagles didn’t show mercy.
They bit and ate her every feather.
They crushed her body, played her innocence
And also her dreams and ambitions.

When she was found by safe people,
She was already half dead.
But still her feeble tongue said,
‘I want to live, I want to live.’

And then there were agitations around
They wanted the eagles to be slain down.
They prayed for the birdie’s recovery.
Although they knew, she couldn’t fly like before.

Back in the hospital, the little birdie
Was ignorant of all this.
She kept fighting for her life.
Her determination was always alive.

But the deities of heaven wanted her back.
They, perhaps, didn’t want her
To be with the bruises.
So they called her back to heaven,
Where she got healed, and flew once again.
Today she has no cuts, and no fears.
She’s playing with the other angels like her.

When she was born, there were a hundred smiles
And when she is gone, there are a million cries.
India has, no doubt, lost a gem.
But her martyrdom has indeed set a big flame.

(May she always Rest in Peace)

Wednesday, 29 August 2012

O little bud......



O little bud, why do you want to dry and fall
Even before you are a flower?
Why do you want to quit this earth
Leaving behind, the shower?

With a hope of living it fully,
Had you come to this earth.
Then why are you leaving it half way,
Just by looking at its mirth?

If you think you are ignored,
And nobody else loves you,
Then just try to turn around,
And look at the plant that holds you.

Look at the breeze that comes to you
To keep you cool and calm
The rivers quench your thirst
They want you no harm.

Why do you wish to leave away
The ones who care for you
And just do you allow the devil
To take a grasp on you?

Why don’t you understand this
That by just killing yourself,
You also kill so many hearts
Which beat thinking of you??

Just don’t part with your loved ones
Before God wants you to.
Trust me, you leave behind cries
And sorrows and pains too.

O little bud, I beg my heart of you
Just stay back and blossom.
Life still has lot of store for you
That’s really good and awesome.
  
 r e a l l y      g o o d      a n d      a w e s o m e . . . . . .

( A prayer to the section of youth which commits suicide every now and then...)

Monday, 13 February 2012

Yes, it is love

It's the island of serenity;
An arena full of trust.
An edifice of tranquility....
Yes, it is love.

It's a gift to the mortals on earth;
A beauty in itself.
A call from the bottom of one's heart....
Yes, it is love.

It's a promise to keep one happy, always;
To be by one's side forever.
it's always backed by hope and faith....
Yes, it is love.

You can't tie it with ropes of caste nor creed;
It's as free as a flting dove.
It's blind of every human barrier....
Yes, it is love.

The world often takes it as bad stuff;
But a true lover knows its purity.
A remedy for all the hate and mirth....
Yes, it is love.

___Söuvick
(Valentine's day 2012 special)