GENERATION -X
In the realms of time,
Nothing has changed, some to a dime.
People are born,they age,they die,,
Some live to the fullest,always on a high,
Some can’t get all that they want & sigh..
Generations have lived in this manner,
Some fair,some tanner..
But come the new generation X, its a different place,
Life is a game,played at the fastest pace.
Who cares where parents’ are, Facebook & twitter friends matter more,,
Family is for granted just there to bore.
Doesn’t matter if my career is right,
I should lead by all means,my future bright.
Money means the world to me,
My cars,watches,clothes and luxuries should be there for all to see.
I will play dirty, bring others down,
None is my friend,, at their smile I frown.
Nothing matters more than my watsapp status & more,
Who cares who lives next door.
Fake relations,mocking feelings,,
Treating people like stock dealings.
But one day age will take its toll,
Life will play hide & seek & roll.
That day standing alone on the path of life,
None to give shoulders before the last knife….
Palvi Kudyar
Intern,,ASCOMS
A Pious Soul
Does not matter,
If I am not a doctor,
I am a villager,
And I am a retired master.
I live in a village,
Not in a city,
I am simple natured,
And not so witty.
Being an old man,
My voice is rejected,
So in my old age,
I feel dejected.
In this age a few get justice,
And do not find equity,
Selfishness and partiality,
Always injure fraternity.
Never overlook the feelings,
Of a pious soul,
God! Will notice,
The fair play or foul.
The youth gets the place,
When the old will go,
And you will cut the crop,
Which ever you sow
God! Is all powerful
Never forget it,
His will is supreme,
You can not reject it.
Vidya Rattan Sharma
(Senior Old Citizen)
Gujroo Nagrota
ORANGE FOR A WHILE
Last evening
Rain had a break,
To turn all orange for a while.
Corridor doors stairs and walls
Trees road cycles and cars
All for a while
Turned orange.
I envisaged
From the terrace back home,
Rice crops in the field
Stretching beyond the backyard
Swaying and bobbing and draped
In this rare ephemeral blaze.
Though I’ve heard fields being sold fast
And that it’s money in place of rice now.
But i couldn’t help it,
This was what my eyes came up with.
Laborers employed
To harvest the crop
Leave their sickles and look up
Their dull tired eyes orange too.
Someone jokes and passes a cigarette
On the mud-tracks they laugh out loud.
From the last visit I recall,
Those tracks maimed to lose mud.
Grandma, oh yes
She would’ve stepped out.
Chipping out a crushed walnut,
Passing us the salvaged fruit
She would’ve talked of times
When it was orange in the valley.
Nowadays she hardly comes out.
Maybe she hates thinking of those days.
Then i see,
Forced upon by mother’s threats,
Clearing the milk cups, and
Running to the playground
Then dividing ourselves,
Playing and wallowing till
Evening gave way to fresh night.
I know there are no playgrounds left
And locality is full of houses and roads.
But i couldn’t help it,
This was what my eyes came up with.
Rupesh Bhat
Gobind Nagar
Talab Tillo
Being Emotional
to love somebody deeply
is being emotional
to care somebody selflessly
is being emotional
can’t live without somebody
is being emotional
having tears seeing somebody in tears
is being emotional
can’t see somebody in pain
is being emotional
can’t restrict to help somebody in need
is being emotional
heart throbs seeing somebody in distress
is being emotional
can’t afford to lose someone dear
is being emotional
if all this means “being emotional”
then its ok, I am happy with it.
tag of ’emotional fool’ is far better than
being emotion less.
living without emotions is worthless,
a dead body can perform it better.
I think this is what,
an essential ingredient of a human being.
Jagbir Singh Jamwal
Tope Sherkhanian, Jammu
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