Mumbai Station Roads

There they sit,

 High up in their chairs

Waiting for pockets

To be fat & filled.

There the innocents,

Down on dirty roads

Paying heavy taxes

Burried under loads.

Footpaths for the hawkers

Crowds tread on roads.

Traffic goes haywire,

Vehicles silly honking.

People pushing each other

Clinging to their belongings.

Is this the future,

We dreamt for our country

Of countless bribes given,

While happily they snore,

With eyes wide open

Countless dreams lie broken.

--Rashmi Gore

02-06-09

My Pretty Pink Bicycle

My pretty pink bicycle, when I rode,

I took the much less travelled road.

I felt once more like a little girl,

As the wind blew, and I rode with a swirl.

Being a lady all the time,

I was getting bored.

The simple joys of life, I let unfold.

My heart leaped as I recollected

The cycle races, with flowers in my basket.

The first day was so exhilarating,

Just four rounds and I was panting.

It brought a smile back on my face,

Was a happy sight as everyone gazed.

My friends took turns & enjoyed it plenty.

Kids loved watching, their new cycling aunty.

                    

--- Rashmi Gore

                          

I wonder

I Wonder

I go out for lunch,

Several movies I watch

But the sorrow 

Doesn't seem to diminish

I wonder,

When this sorrow will vanish?

I laugh with my kids,

Several songs with them I sing

What real happiness

To my heart will bring?

I cook yummy dishes,

Shop for worldly things

What will lessen this sorrow,

Can you think of such a thing?

I know you won't come back ever

Won't something make me happy forever?

You were my greatest strength

With you I could talk at length

I can never forget you, however I wish

My sorrow may never diminish

Sleepless nights I will spend

For several days on end

Will my grief ever come to an end?

Is there happiness.... around the next bend?

Rashmi Gore.
9-9-09

Work Is Worship

Work Is Worship 

Working all day out in the sun

May not after all be so much fun.

Reaping rich profits, making business click

Is a lot of hard work & a much bigger risk.

Some work for the society

Some with lots of sincerity.

Some work just for killing time

About  money they don’t care a dime.

A few spend hours at holy places

Hoping for luckily catching big fishes.

Some get only a few hours of respite

Simply sweating it out all day & night.

Purely workaholics are an inspiration to many

While few desperate souls run after money.

Work makes the old look & feel younger

Some are ever hungry, work- their only hunger.

Some work for family, some for education

Work for some is as good as meditation.

Work is what keeps the spark of life alive

Work indeed is worship & indeed Divine.

-------   Rashmi Gore

   

The Hand

THE HAND

The strong hand that held the tiny

The little dresses and clips so shiny

The hand that neatened the clutter around

The hand that never made a sound.

The hand that cooked yummy dishes

And fulfilled your little wishes

The hand that taught to read and write 

The hand that made your future bright.

The hand that always prayed for you

The hand that always swayed to you

The hand that most are lucky to find

Acknowledge that hand, don't be blind

Rashmi Gore

18-6-10

Sailing On My Ship

I went a sailing on my ship

On this beautiful water blue

The calm wind & the clear sky

Everything was so true

I went a sailing on my ship

There was this terrible storm

Wrecking everything in its path

I had to bear its wrath

I was washed ashore

My joints were sore

The tide had gone

The wind was calm

I saw a sailor on his ship

He waved out to me

Said to me let’s make this trip

Just for you & me.

---Rashmi Gore

The little Raincoat

The Little Raincoat

I got drenched in the rain today,

Once again after many years

All those memories washed out for a while

Were refreshed, as I smiled.

The drops fell on my cheeks

And happiness washed all pain

The mesmerising scent of my dusty city

Was obviously... here again.

The kids ran in their little raincoats

And I urged my friend not to hurry,

Our heads soaked with water as

Our talks filled with laughter.

I wished the road was not paved

And I could get my feet muddy

Just like it was years ago when

I was inside the little raincoat.

My thoughts ran to my mom

When the home inside felt so warm

The smell of hot soup, filling up the house

Those excited chats & the spontaneous laughter.

Placing pots and pans below a leaking roof

Gave us such joy

Watching them get filled up as it thundered

Oh Boy!

Somewhere down the line

I forgot the laughter of childhood-

Just watching a little boat in the puddle

And doing nothing good.

As my hair was getting soaked in water

And the wind brought a shiver

I was thinking all the happy thoughts

When the street looked like a river.

When the gumboots were of no use

As we splashed in the yucky water

And sliding the raincoat hood

Felt even better.

As I looked at my little son in his raincoat

Holding in his hand a small paper boat

Once again after many years

I got drenched in that little raincoat.

Rashmi Gore

4-7-11