FATHER TO A SON............HEARTFELT POSTCARD

Seems like yesterday, when I held you in these hands
For the very first time, I felt so much of happiness, still I just couldn't stand.
I wanted to  sing, wanted to fly so high up in the sky
Tell the whole world, I am so happy and I just might cry.


Time  flies, it waits for nobody, and certainly it didn't stop for me
When did you grow up? How come I never got  to see,
You creating your own little world,quietly away from me.
Tell me my little boy,  o please talk to me

Help me  find my answers, to these questions that are haunting me.

I know  it isn't your fault son, it's me who went missing completely
Chasing nothing, forgetting the little joys of life, I acted foolishly.     
But I still want to hear it from you, the one I love 
The one who means a world to me.

Why did I do it ? How did we end up like this? 

Tell me my little boy, o  please talk to me

Help me  find my answers, to these questions that are haunting me.

I AIN'T A CREEP ...I AM FLESH N BONE TOO !!

We don't live in a perfect world. In our blind quest for perfection, we have become a cold human race . In fact we have become immune to the imperfections that surrounds us. We are unwilling to notice and acknowledge the great divide that exist in our daily lives.

What do you think, when you see a ragpicker at the street corner. A charsi ( druggie) or an unfortunate son ?? If you have been to the pride, the most popular shopping hub, Connaught Place, at the heart of New Delhi, you can see them walking, limping, crawling any time of the day or night.

I find it quite disturbing . Imagine coming out of a fancy restaurant and being mobbed by these unfortunate sons right outside the door . It's hard to fathom why the Traders Union, or the cops ( with you, for you, always - friends in Khakhi) don't seek help from a NGO to rescue these guys. It's not about cleaning our streets , it's about finding a better place for them.....maybe a home away from home. AT LEAST WE CAN TRY !!