Sita

एक योद्धा होती ती
ज्ञानी व शक्तिशाली होती ती
लोक कल्याण व प्रगती साठी
लढा देणारी मैथिली होती ती

स्वतःची हि ओळख मागे ठेऊन
एक नवे अस्तित्व स्वीकारले
जनकाच्या राजकुमारी पासून
रामाची पत्नी जेव्हा ती झाले

सर्वोत्तम स्त्री म्हणून तिचीही ओळख असती
सक्षम व कर्तृत्ववान होतीच ती
पण आनंदाने त्यागले त्या आपल्या अस्तित्वाला
जेव्हा सांगे पुरुषोत्तम रामाच्या चालले ती

रावणाच्या लंकेतही खचली नाही
आत्मबळ कमी होऊ दिले नाही
खंबीरपणे उभी राहिली ती
आत्मसन्मान गमावू दिला नाही

अशा या थोर नारीची
कशी विचित्र हि गाथा
जीवनाने दिली तिला
नुसतीच व्यथा

जनतेने केला तिरस्कार
पतीने दिला संशयाचा पुरस्कार
निष्ठेने घडवलेली विश्वासाची मूर्ती
झाली कशी निराकार

खांबिर्याने लढा देत
केली जिने पती सन्मानाची रक्षा
पावित्र्य सिद्द्ध करण्यासाठी
द्यावी लागली तिलाच अग्निपरीक्षा!

सदैव दुसऱ्यांसाठी झटली जी
केली होती का कुणीतरी अशी कल्पना
त्या त्यागाच्या मूर्थीचीच व्हावी
अशी कशी हि विडंबना?

असत्य कितीही असले बलवान
तरी सत्याला नको त्याचे भेव
जनतेच्या बालिश हट्टापायी झुकलास
रामा असा कसा रे तू देव?

अपमानाने कटू झालेला जीव
केव्हाच तिने त्यग्ला असता
पोटात वाढणाऱ्या जीवाचा विचार
जर मनि आला नासता

दोन जीवांचा गर्भ घेऊन
भटकले ती राना वनात
आयुष्याचे ओझे सोसवायला
मिळाला आश्रय वाल्मिकी आश्रमात

चिमुकल्या जुळ्यांच्या चेहऱ्यात
हरवलेले सुख थोडे झळकले
पण काळाच्या लाटेने
तेही क्रूरपणे हरपले

पती व पुत्रांमधले भेद न तिला बघवले
थकले, खचले, हरले व शेवटी
भू गर्भात ती सामावले

-smita

Roger

Strength, stamina, precision,
Humility, kindness and care
Are the virtues that define
A gem like you so rare

From a young boy to a tennis legend
You achieved success, trophies and fame
But you gave a lot more than you got
Your soul and life to this game

I cannot help but admire
The way you said good bye
Touched down our hearts so deep
Made us all cry

You are an epitome of masculinity
But you didn’t shy away from showing your tears
These little drops are what makes us humans
With our vulnerabilities and fears

Thanking the women in his life
Only a true gentleman could do
Loved by friends and rivals alike
A true legend that is you

Your message was a learning for the young
When you lost your last
“Your moment could still be best and special
Without being perfect and classed”

Thank you Roger for many things
For being an inspiration to all
Won with spirit, lost with grace
You showed that legends never fall

~smita

(Tribute to Roger Federer on his retirement)

Snowflakes

First you see, that glimpse of white,
They say the first snowflake is like a flicker of light.

Snowflakes are so beautifully designed,
Anyone would think the creator had an extravagant mind.

It is said that no two snowflakes are the same,
I think that's true, if not, that would be quite lame.

On the ground you see, a fresh blanket of snow,
The neighborhood would be getting ready to mow.

To see these snowflakes would be quite a delight,
I've heard many a times, it's quite a sight.

I would truly love to see this,
But about this, the climate gives Pune a miss.

One day, I hope, I can see this phenomenon,
I hope, I see the snowflakes falling on my lawn!

~Written By Renee

Radiant Glow

It's my mother's birthday,
For her party make way.

She's cutting the cake,
Our happiness ain't fake.

Everyone's snacking, eating,
On her diet, my mom's cheating.

The kids are dancing,
People are enjoying.

Then comes the present,
With love from my dad it's meant.

She opens the gift,
The lid she'll lift.

Something shines inside,
She probably remembers the day she became a bride.

There we saw, was a wonderful necklace,
For its radiant beauty, no one could brace.

I don't know about others,
But for me, it wasn't its pretty smothers.

For I saw it glowing,
The beauty looked like it would sing.

For I thought what glowed more, was none other,
Than my dear wonderful mother.

~Written By Renee

The Lost Home

I lay on the ground
Under the big apple tree
My arms spread and eyes closed
But I breathe free

My heart is pounding heavy
Due to the long cricket game
That me and my dear friends
Play every now and then

The aroma of cinnamon coming from the kitchen
Tingles my hunger sense
“What delicacy must mom be cooking?”
To find out I climb the fence

Dad as always, is in the porch
Reading on his rocking chair
But looks up to stop the running me
And playfully runs his hand through my hair

My home would often have guests,
Friends and relatives coming over
My little sister’s laughter would echo in the big hall
While I turned the TV volume lower

We have a lovely little kitchen garden
And a cupboard full of books with a biggest of worth
My home is the most beautiful place
After all it is built on the paradise on earth

But all that is gone now
What remains is a memory
Of that most beautiful place
Standing in all its glory

I now live in a small room
With no book shelf or an apple tree
I am a refugee in my own land
Can I even breathe free?

My childhood is left behind
And life has moved on
We are creating new identities
But the “Kashmir” from Kashmiri Pandit is gone

Leaving behind our homeland
We have gone to Delhi, Dubai and even Rome
But I wish to go back to the paradise again
Go back to my lost home

Inspired by Rahul Pandita’s book
“Our Moon Has Blood Clots”

--smita