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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
THE CHENNAI FLOODS - SECOND PART
No food nor drinking water, those alive, pity
Faced chillness, starvation and panic in eyes
No medicines, no blankets and no clothes
People succumbed in homes and on roads
Hundreds of people dead; countless injured
Houses and cars in thousands submerged
All essential storage quickly lost; and no food
Nor shelter; alas providers became seekers
A catastrophe that none believed will happen,
Occurred anyway, as people simply wilted low
Money and materials could not be of help
As holding hands alone forebode being alive
The future looked suddenly bitter and bleak
With money, valuables and motorcars lost
Very difficult it looked to make good the loss
As personal belongings all vanished in a toss
And by the time the boats came calling
And relief was in sight; most people had
Lost the battle and barely held their lives
The unrelenting flood having spewed its wrath
The misfortune threw up the good Samaritans
For many showed up, courting risk upfront
To save many a folk, with dedication abound
In desperate time providing solace and succor
Brave young volunteers were there in full
To reach supplies for people in a mess
But the disaster had hit in full, long before
Many need decades to get back, as before.
And then army men arrived to ferry in boats
Saving people, marooned and maligned
Helicopters dropped food for hungry mouths
As pilots picked the sick and the hopeless
The Government claimed it did its part, well
While the critics made a lot of noise, as ever
Alas people were left, high and dry; dismayed
To mourn the loss and weep, in silent mode!
Some said the authority failed; in their role
Some said it was “El Nino” “Climate Change”
Many attributed: highest rainfall in 100 years!
But I know: Millions of folk took a mighty blow!
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2015
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
THE CHENNAI FLOODS - FIRST PART
Firstly the rains came calling cool
It instantly brought hope and happiness
For people relished the Celsius dip down
And hoped for reservoirs to fill to lips
But pretty soon the horrific floods followed
As it rained cats and dogs, days on end
As monsoon turned to a tormentor possessed
And led many to many a sleepless night
The inevitable pain came calling chill and fast
As roads and streets were ravaged entirely
And excess water submerged ponds and land
As waterways and drains could pass no more
The serious threat meandered in with a roar
With intense rains adding to the fury and more
Amidst storm, lightning, thunder on crescendo
Emanating from deep depressions in the Bay
Then fear and scare all showed up all night
As water inundated fields and farms alike
And entered into houses and dwelling units
Causing widespread loss to assets and life
The floods slithered in surely winding its way
Uprooting trees and destructing everywhere
Cattle, dogs and pets perished soon, unsung
With hapless people of all ages, in a gloom
The engulfing darkness brought chaos, for
Gloomy conditions only worsened soon
With nothing in sight; except rising waters
Seething snakes and reptiles added blues
Trauma and melancholy, magnified manifold
As waters chill, ran amuck human household
Swirling in; bringing great despair, in Cities too
Nightmare everywhere; yet nowhere to go;
The disaster itself was a Broadway show
As city and residences became a water-show
And in no time all hell had broken loose;
Making waterways of rail and road ways too
The big losses came quick and fast
As households washed off in a gaffe
And apartments and cars submerged
With basements becoming watery graves
Overnight and instantly everything was lost
Furniture, valuables, utensils and garments,
Refrigerators, kitchenware, other gadgets too
Gold, silver, cash and documents; phones too
And then it was the death that reared its head,
As people drowned and went missing cold
Pitch darkness engulfing the misery in whole
People breathed their last; their grief untold
........ Continued in Second Part
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2015
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
I loved it very dear
A unique find it was
I drove it very far
Without any fear
Driving was pleasure
Travelling in, a pride
Its presence a delight
That many saw in awe
It was a fairy in white
Darting across milestones
Skimmed on Highways
Carrying family to places
Safely, surely and quickly
It sped with grace and gleam
It made many turn heads
To see it in motion, a poetry
It was a beauty to behold
To possess, though, it was dear!
Yet I saw it drown, in my house
When floods came by; untold
I had to part with my luv, my BMW
Considered as next only to my wife
Whatever lovely association ended
And my Beamer suddenly disappeared.
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2016
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
MOTHER ---- I LOVE YOU
Mothers are everywhere; yet each a miracle
All women on earth are mothers, except a few
And would be mothers too, as lifecycle rolls thru
Common, they may be, as it were; yet very unique
Not only race they sustain; but nurture babies thru
Bearing child is not an end; to see them grow up remains
To shower kisses, love, soft touch; only as mothers know how
Her love is caring, unconditional, abundant thru and thru
The child is their pride, their life, their breath
Often they forgo everything; to see children happy
And always bat an eye; whatever happens
Love, it is they will give; and life too if need be
Their love is pure; their cuddle so divine
Always considerate and willing to take the pain
Being rich or poor, sick or healthy matters not
Love lasts forever, as stars that never fade away
Mothers churns out food, fun and fantasies any time
Ditch out toys, dresses and many things of delight
Never angry, never dull, always with a smile
All these lovely things make lasting impression in child
Of the dear mother; who can’t stand the child in pain
She tries to soften the fall and makes the living fine
But for her being around, world may be an empty place
Yet in my case she parted company; as it is eventually is
But I will never ever forget her, till I cease to exist
For it is Lalitha my mom, who taught me to read and write
She made sure I have the skill to pen, about her, if I choose to
When she is not around anymore and really gone…….and I do!
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2018
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
The Chopper Cyclone
Oh Wild Wind! Why so rude?
Oh Dear God! Why no mercy?
Waited for rains; what we got is rage
Nursed hopes; only horror remains
December last, unbridled floods,
December this year, the Wild Wind
Gory events; misfortune manifested
With none to stop; our life is on hold
Oh Wild Wind! Why the dance of death?
Felling thousands of trees, we loved
All cables and power lines snapping to halt
Through howling cries; all passed away en-mass
A moment of mayhem, wrought havoc untold
The tall trees all, massacred, maimed
The wild aerobics; snuffing out the breathe,
Mauled and mangled the city is left mourning
Those that escaped wrath, some flora exist
Battered and bruised, broken and bent,
Twisted and tampered; crippled they lie
Centuries old, veterans, in ruins, they cry
Revival; may take a hundred years,
Alas, many of us will be gone by then,
Our companions, all through they were,
On a mad noon act; all vanished to nowhere
Ten thousand trees lost; is the count we have
As the city lies barren without, the green it wore
Family of trees lay victims; in parks and on pavements
While every road and compound added to the lore
Yes we waited for our reservoirs to fill
For flora, fauna and fields to survive
In turn; only received tears in our eyes
Only numbness remains, all hearts bleed
Last year water; this year the storm
Call it what you like; but curse is same
All elements that we presumed were allies
Turned a foe; that tale, God alone can tell
In a moment of madness; hate let loose
The ghost wind, showed rage unending
The fierce storm, hell bound it stood
Decimated everything in its path
Relenting only after revenge; extracted
As everyone around was in sheer disbelief
Dazed and shattered and shocked were we
Too numbed to think and too dumb to act
Yet the calamity will soon be forgotten;
As History’s bosom has many such stories
But both the scars will remain for decades,
The World has its dark side too!
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2017
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
Tribute to the Rains
And then it finally came
What was very much sought
And what was most needed
As people even prayed for
Eventually, the rains did arrive
Coming as it did in a flurry
Consuming with it all anxiety,
Uncertainty, the heat and dust
In whatever shape it did land
As speedy drizzle or brazen shower;
Noisy downpour continued all nights,
With lightning and thunder
Hurtling down came the stormy rain
With gale and gusty winds, splashing,
Causing muddy pools and rolling floods;
Hurriedly filling up lakes and reservoirs
Wishes grew, for it to be regular
Each year and round the year; enough,
For that alone would mean, growth
And bring in, wealth and happiness
And thus it raised the hopes of farmers
From communities far and wide; who,
Ever so expectant gazed at the sky:
For rains alone made their crops thrive
For Flora and Fauna to bloom manifold
As pastures and fields spring back to life
Plants and trees turning to refreshing green
As marshy lands all get wet and soaked
At long last the Rain Gods had scampered in
Bringing with it promises of plenty and cheer;
Making the air clean and pollutants free
And ushering in climate for a comfort spree
Children rushed to get drenched for fun
While others chose to cuddle in the bed
A delight that's been quite forgotten
For rains brought thrill to all age brethren
It often inspired families to stick together
And munch crispy snacks chattering together;
With a myriad of thoughts and dreams
And alas life for man got all set to zoom!
It didn't really matter how rains showed up
Through a 'cyclone' or a ‘depression’
All it did was to arrive in style and substance;
To the stupendous amazement of all asunder
Whether in torrents or in spate
Raindrops did charge the water bodies
Making insects and worms come alive
For birds to flutter and butterflies to swarm
The wonder of this refreshing shower
Instantly thrilled my heart with heavenly beat,
And thoughts pleasantly ebbed in my mind
To string words together and sing in praise
Great God indeed; did this resource, bless,
For bereft of it; all life shall be a thing of past
And with it the journey of all living things
May well see the light of millenniums ahead!
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2015
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
When I shun people easily at will
When relatives and friends get alienated
When finding time for others is no priority
When dropping schedules no longer matter
When not keeping standards don’t mean a thing
When attention span has lost its stretch
When listening to others is no longer wholesome
When others views and opinions
Good or bad go for a toss
When thoughts about siblings
and their company feels good
When loneliness gives peace
When being oneself brings happiness
When self becomes significant
When expecting attention
becomes an expression of right
When hobbies become priorities
When compliments bring in joy
and are often sought
When being served food feels special
When being given a lift feels great
When being given importance assures a lot
When what others think is right has to be accepted
When silence is a easy option
When what others say is becomes the right thing,
When others presume what is uttered by self is outdated
I guess it happens to everyone, everywhere
Be it in the past, in the present or future too
Aging is a common phenomenon
Others see the physical change
The mind actually doesn’t feel so
Attitude and personality hang in forever
Yet the impairment is undeniable
Sometimes short tempered;
Many times touchy and meek
Often bypassing the falling respect and regard
I guess that is what is ‘getting old all about’
And everyone reaches that point
Sooner or later, but for sure”
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2022
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
Life is not cricket: though a game of cricket reflects life
It portrays real-life conditions; from cradle to urn
Starting with toss of a coin; ends in pulling bails off
Just as cricket life is simply a game of twists and turns
Cricket depicts aptitudes, attitudes and attributes;
From efforts to excellence and vision to victories,
Helmet clad men with gloves; on turn bat at different ends
Thwarting a pack of 11 wolves; who swear to hunt them down
Bowlers, swing ‘in and out’ and send cutters ‘off and leg’
Balls are flung as bouncers, googlies, full tosses, ‘donkey drops’
In life, people face challenges untold from beginning till end
Despair and hopes, failure and success, disgrace and glory et al
Batsmen ‘hit and run’ to score one, two, three; sure, no police tickets
Smack a shot for four; making the ball go past the boundary ropes
Staying put in the crease; beat fielders with cuts, lofts and drives
Make belligerent strokes; the balls - red, white or pink sail over for six
There is suspense, slips and misses; a stroke of luck or none at all
Overthrows make it five or seven, when fielders wilt and eyes wink
Silken shots from willows; look delightful, masterful, stylish and stately
Smartly piercing the gaps; batsmen caress the balls and pick runs at will
Quite often there is a quick-fire innings and strokes in 360 degrees ground
Batsmen also score a hundred, a double, triple and remain unbeaten too
Some others grind all day long and carry the bat through the innings
They hate the ducks and LBW; and ending up with a 'pair' is a nightmare
Bowlers are out to get batsmen out; bowling on the 22 yards central strip
They bowl express pace, medium, good length; and balls that spin viciously
Wicket keeper, three slips, fine leg and short leg; all wait for the fine nick
Fielders wait for a miracle catch and also juggle it between them to complete
Fiercely dive to stop the balls and throw the ball to have batsmen run out
Batsmen wear pads and abdomen guards, gloves and caps; to stay it safe
Bowlers induce catches and love a batsman being ‘caught and bowled’
Middle stump cartwheeling is a pacer’s delight; and ‘hat-trick’ is a dream
Batsman is run-out; when a fielder breaks the wicket; caught short of crease;
As one makes a dash from one wicket end to another, in a daredevil rush
It is a silly point; but batsmen can kick the ball from rolling on to stumps
There is a of course a gully; yet batsmen ‘hit-wicket’ to get out on their own
Helicopter shots and reverse sweep; are countered with reverse swings
There are slips to gobble up catches and a ‘fine short-leg’ to pocket a pop-up
There is a third man, a long-off, long-on; one in covers, mid-off and mid-on
The wicket keeper does the stumping; if batsman is caught out of crease
Fielder yell ‘howzaat’ when they think it is a kill; from snicks and close calls;
Yet spill overs, misses and drops end in reprieve, when chances go abegging
Umpires and leg-umpires control proceedings; tossing a coin to begin with
And the winning captain leads his team to bat or bowl first in the game
Winning the toss offers leverage; but it is more to do with a stroke of luck
There are fast, grassy and wet pitches; to make it a paceman’s delight
There are dry, muddy and slow pitches for the spinners’ dream run too
Throwing the ball isn’t allowed; just as repeat bouncers and 'no-balls'
Substitute runners for injured batsmen and fielders for the sick show up
Just as acrobatics happen at the boundary; while jumping to hold a catch
Diving to save runs, batting, bowling and catching, all are practiced at nets
When umpires are in doubt there is third umpire takes the call to do the rest
If rain curtails play or other disruptions occur DRS decides the fate
While white is the attire in tests; the norm in leagues is multicolor
Victory, defeat are results in each game; neither two winners nor two losers
Test matches are won and lost by wickets and runs and even by an innings
A draw is when none wins; super-overs help decide One-Day and T20s draws;
There are drinks interval, tea-break and lunch; sledging and egging too
When cricket is played all win; take away trophies, cups, rubber, ashes, cash
So is life as reflected by the acts of 22men on a 22-yard cricket pitch!
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2021
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
Born after freedom; I witnessed
The 25th year Independence Day celebration
The Silver Jubilee; the country was underdeveloped,
Yet there was jubilation, happiness all over
Years went by: I grew bigger
I witnessed the 50th too:The Golden Jubilee
The country was developing; still there was
Jubilation and joy
Again years passed by: I was mature
I witnessed the 60th too; It was Diamond Jubilee
The country was still developing
Jubilation and delight prevailed all over
Years continued to roll;Then came
Platinum Jubilee year of Indian Independence
It was 70th year; the country had developed
And joy was all over again
Today it is 75 years celebration:
I know not what to call; and possibly
India is a fast developing nation.
We are jubilant and happy.
This country is blessed! The Prime Minister
Hoists the flag on 15 August every year
at the ramparts of RedFort New Delhi
Chief Ministers do it at the States
To merriment of all citizenry
Long live India:Maha Bharath
The journey hasn’t been easy
India fought three wars on its way
It hasn’t been a cakewalk
Terrorists made country bleed
It hasn’t been a smooth ride either
Internal enemies wreaking havoc
Natural disasters not withstanding
Secularism posed challenges unfair
Petty politicians playing scoundrels
Just as the crooked and the wicked
Corruption, lobbies and bank fraud
Often killing systems and hope
Healthcare and education exploited
Nation in control by vested interests
Judiciary, bureaucracy playing billiards
Mafia and anti nationals running riots
Yet our sportspersons bring in Gold
We have world class institutions
Indian professionals run MNCs
And business across the world
Our industries are world class
Our programmers design for world
ISRO is a rocket seller to Globe
And most pilots are Indian women
India saved half the world from COVID
With seclusion and magic vaccines
Fed most countries with its wheat
Our army is no more a push over
India only exports software
No hatred; no ill-will;only solutions
Indian cuisine is foreigners delight
Indian engineers; toast of world HR
Indian expats are a welcome lot
Indian culture is a much fancied stuff
Indian Yoga is a world wonder and
Bhagvat Gita a Vedic eye opener
In 2046: India will celebrate; ID 100
India will be a super power much before
Forget the wicked; forget the treacherous
Many like me may be dead; but I hold a promise
India will be a nation of peace, prosperity, plenty
Nothing will deny India it’s rightful place.
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2022
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Mothiram Pushpala Poem
THERE IS BLOOD IN MY TEARS…….MOTHER INDIA
POKRAN AT PULWAMA
YESTERDAY MY CHILDREN HAD STARS IN THEIR EYES
TODAY WITH ME THEY TOO HAVE TEARS IN THEIR EYES
DID I SAY TEARS, ONLY TEARS, OH NO! GOD BELIEVE ME
THEY HAVE BLOOD IN THEIR TEARS AS ONLY I CAN SEE
‘CAUSE IT ISN’T THE ENEMY TO THE COUNTRY WHO DID IT ALL
TRAITORS AMONG MY OWN COUNTRYMEN WHO MADE IT ALL
MY HUSBAND A VERY BRAVE MAN WAS ON DUTY’S CALL
HE JOINED MANY OTHERS LIKE HIM FOR A DISTANT CALL
IN A CONVOY OF BUSES THEY DROVE THROUGH ICY ROADS
SOME SLEPT AND SOME SANG HAVING MIXED THOUGHTS
AS THE TREES WERE BARREN AND WINTER SO RUDE
ALL HAD A FAMILY TO CARE AND NO TIME TO BROOD
ONLY THE PRIDE OF NATION THEY CHERISHED IN MIND
AND TO WORK FOR ITS GLORY THEY NEVER DID MIND
I PROUDLY SENT MY MAN WITH ALL HIS MIGHT TO GUARD
THINKING MY NATION WILL ALWAYS TREATED HIM AS GOD
LEAST WOULD HE HAVE IMAGINED HE WOULD BE NO MORE
FOR SUDDENLY FROM NOWHERE ITS A FIJAYIDIN FUROR
BOMBS BLEW BUSES AND BRAVE MEN TO SHREDS FAR APART
THERE WAS ‘POKRAN IN PULWAMA’ AS BODIES CAME APART
ITS ALL OVER TO ME AND OTHERS AS 44 MEN WERE LOST
ALL OF A SUDDEN MY MAN IS DEAD, HOW LONG WILL I LAST
ALAS TRAITORS IN THE COUNTRY DID IT IN THEIR MADNESS
IN HATRED AND SPITE, HEARTLESS TERRORISTS KILL
THIS COUNTRY HAS MANY HEROES ALL OF WHICH I BELIEVED
THERE ARE MORE KILLERS THAN BROTHERS I AM NOW BELIED
NEVER DID THEY TEACH IN SCHOOL, COUNTRYMEN KILL
MY PLIGHT IS SAME, AS THAT OF MANY AS TIME STANDS STILL
OH MOTHER INDIA, WHERE WILL I GO? AREN’T YOU MY MOTHER?
TO WHOM SHALL I GO AND CRY? MY CHILDREN HAVE NO FATHER
ALL OF US LOST OUR HUSBANDS, WILL THEY COME BACK EVER?
LET MY COUNTRY PROMISE REVENGE FOR DAMAGE DONE TO ME.
THAT’S THE LEAST MY COUNTRY CAN DO……..
Copyright © Mothiram Pushpala | Year Posted 2020
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