DEAR DAD . . .

I can see the mountains in the north,
I don’t want you to be rigid like them.
I want you to be like the gentle breeze,
Which in the summer heat brings some chill.

I want you to make me feel at home,
Not imprisoned by a wall of rules.
I know you want me to be good,
But all you have to do is trust in me.

I’m your son, oh Dad,
Hey Dad, I love you,
And I’m saying all this,
Hoping you will understand me,
I’m your son, Dad 
And I will always be yours.

I know that you care for me,
And in all that you do,
You want to show it too.
But Dad you can be more than that,
You can be more than just a Dad.

I’m not just a kid any more,
I have grown up and I have my feelings too.
To be honest, you have hurt me at times,
But I’m ready to let all that go.

All that I’m asking is,
Hey Dad, can we be friends?
I need you to listen to me,
You matter a lot to me,
That’s why I’m making this effort of mine.

I am grateful for all that you have done,
But I need your friendship more than anything else.

When I was growing up,
I thought we will become friends with time,
But I guess it never worked out.
I’m giving it a second try,
Will you join me too and answer my cry?

I’m your son, oh Dad
And I love you.


When I am served with Lentils and Rice,
I think why can’t I have something Nice.

When I am given Rotis made of Wheat,
I wish if I could have a better Treat.

When my parents ask me to eat Spinach,
I think why can’t they let me have Pastries and Cake.

When I am forced to eat green Vegetables,
My mind dreams of Burgers or other such Eatables.

When elders tell me that Fruits should be eaten because they have Vitamin A, B, C, D & E,
I think of an excuse I could make for leaving the place and just flee.

When I’m told that Pizza and Chowmien are not worth eating,
I get frustrated, and it makes my mind start Heating.

When my parents ask me to drink vegetable Soup,
I feel like having a chocolate ice cream with three large Scoops.

When they want me to eat cereals like Cornflakes,
I want to eat five stars and other such Chocolates.

If somebody asks me about my favourite drinking Picks,
Coca-Cola and Sprite would be my answer instead of Horlicks.

These are the poetic thoughts that dwelt in my mind of eleven and twelve,

Today when I am of age, I very cautiously delve. 

Today Food is just not a Priority,
As meagre it gets as your Seniority,
Breakfast is skipped and lunch missed on Majority,
But for me, Dessert still, holds an Authority.

Medicines are the prefix and suffix to each Meal,
Nothing is delicious and yummylicious – I can’t Feel,
Choices are healthy, and calories are terrible to Deal,
I miss my childhood enthusiasm and that foodie’s Zeal.

Life has given us so much mess to Fix,
Kept aside my forks and all my Chopsticks,
Nauseous are my French Fries and those Cheesesticks,
Now I thrive on Ready to Cook meals and quick Fix.

Bon Apettite!


I look at her once and can’t withdraw my eyes,

From beholding her yet again.

The smile with which she’d display her affection,

Revives before my eyes within seconds of ten.

Her embrace resurrects so vividly before me,

The warmth of her arms,

 That would so lovingly hug me in glee.


I look at her and smile away in profound bliss,

Recollecting the memories,

When my forehead had been blessed with her kiss.

And the words of care,

That would proceed out of her mouth.


When next will I be privileged to receive that,

I doubt . . .


I look at her, at her picture – that’s all I have with me now.

I see it and remember the times,

Wherein desires for my happiness had bowed.

I miss all of her gestures which now to my heart brings,

An unspoken sorrow of detachment,

From you my mother, which now I hopelessly drink.


(P.S. Written when I was away from home and missed my mother badly.)



Sipping tea in my balcony, I saw some straws,

Wondered if the wind blew too strongly and made this jigsaw…

Then I noticed the culprit who created this mess –

It was a pigeon trying to make a nest.


I hushed that creeper instantly,

because when it comes to cleanliness, I get too finicky.

I swept away the straws and hay,

But the pigeon just won’t agree to my dismay,

For I had to clean up the twigs everyday.


One, two, three and four,

Fifth day I saw much more.

The pigeon wasn’t alone,

The male one with twigs in beak has just flown,

The female stopped designing her nest,

Fearing that I would protest.


Touched I was to see their determination,

So assisted them to make their mansion,

With cardboard and some bricks,

Little creatures taught me the mantra in a nick-

Don’t give up and never lose hope,

Keep on trying, there’s always a scope.


Was our story meant to end the way it did –

  Was it meant to begin, to begin with?


You once said you can walk miles with me by your side –

 Was the journey meant to end because the path was rough?


You once said let’s get closer –

Were the distances meant to be drawn because of distant destinations?


You said once that your eyes long to see me –

Was my heart meant to yearn for you forever?


You once said life is to live –

Were my feelings meant to be paralyzed because of your rejection?


You once said happiness is to see me smile –

Were my tears meant to go down unnoticed?


You once said our togetherness is meant to be cherished for a lifetime –

Are your memories meant to haunt me throughout my life?


I am still carrying the baggage of a broken relationship, nursing a broken heart and still asking myself – Was It Meant To Be?



We lay on the grass,

Our hands firmly enclasped.


That wetness between the verdant blades,

Making silken lines on your bonny face,

The faint fragrance of first rain,

Wafting through the June air.


This moment, our ‘now’,

I wish I could break all the clocks,

On the earth somehow.


Forget about seizing the day,

I want to seize this here and now.


For we’ll never be more beautiful than this,

And maybe we’ll never know again,

These moments of mellow bliss.


But should I close my eyes to the world tonight,

I’ll have you know I won’t have any regrets.


You’ve gifted me an eternity of happiness.


This life that grows within me,

And your vow that adorns my finger,

They  assure me that our love will linger,

Maybe not for eons, maybe not for years,

Maybe for just a few days.


But in that limited time I’ll know, darling,

I had in you my ‘forever’ and my ‘always’.


Pradita Kapahi


Illumination in passionate animation,

Lashing out in sweltering oppression,

Merciless and without showing consideration,

The sun’s rays are spread out as if with a vengeful ambition,

Penalizing the earth for perfecting its annual routine of revolution.


Year after year as the temperatures soar,

The lush green earth becomes parched and sore,

Disrobing itself of all its glamour and décor,

It yearns feebly for a cumulonimbus thunder roar,

Hoping to quench its thirst from a heavy downpour.


Poor farmers sigh deep with hands on their heads,

Wherefrom would they make provisions for their daily bread?

Loaners’ knocks they frightfully dread,

Painful tears they wistfully shed,

With deep chagrin they find no way but to hang their heads.


Shady trees with their boughs weighing with fruits,

Have been plucked up from their very roots,

Humans with their ambitious pursuits,

Have contributed to making the global climate so very acute,

As if not enough, the environment we continue to pollute.


The affluent in their air conditioned homes, offices and cars,

May not get many of the scorching heat’s scars,

Just thinking of the slum dwellers and daily wagers,

One wish arises – can there not be any climate changers,

To bring respite to all despite their financial statuses?


The result of man’s ill-deed or a curse from God,

Or both it seems would get the responsibility nod,

Doling out summer freebies with a wand and a rod,

Continuous perspiration along with dry lips and throat,

Whacking the life out of men and beast both.


No matter how hard we now campaign,

Climate change poses an irreversible pain,

Melting glaciers and rising sea levels,

Make the earth look pale and disheveled,

Threatening to create havocs – much to the glee of the devil.


As we bask in the luscious shades of our homes,

May we not forget to show kindness to the hapless vagabonds,

The vehemence of the summer we cannot reduce,

But we can surely hand them over a glass of juice,

To douse their thirst and to relief induce!


Summers are blessings in the seasonal wheel,

So that no one does moist and frozen reel,

The beauty of it however is now under a seal,

With languishing calls to relief feel,

And for the body mind and soul to rise and heal.

(P.S. Written as a reflection on Indian summers)