The Colour of Life

-

The Colour of Life

The colour of life is never just one,
It dances in rainbows, in moonlight, in sun.
It pulses in red where the heartbeats start,
In passion, in anger, in a brave beating heart.

It glimmers in gold where the dreams take flight,
In sunrise hopes and stars at night.
It softens in blue when the soul feels low,
Yet even in sorrow, there’s room to grow.

It brightens in green where the wild things bloom,
In forests of thought, in a child’s own room.
It flickers in purple, mysterious and deep,
Where secrets are buried and memories sleep.

No single hue can carry it all-
Life is a mural on time’s vast wall.
Painted in love, in struggle and grace,
The colour of life is every face.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Realm of the Unknown

-
Image
Outer space… Though named for emptiness, What secrets might its boundless silence hold? Perhaps even the One who brought it into being Knows not the full extent of its unfathomable depths. We have heard whispers of the Creator, Yet never have our eyes beheld You. Perhaps You dwell beyond the farthest edge of the cosmos, Where even the light of eternity has never reached; Or perhaps You lie concealed in the silence of every atom, An unseen presence woven into the very fabric of existence. Worlds of light and worlds of darkness, Nebulae that dream, and stars that burn like eternity. What a magnificent kingdom of mysteries, What a wondrous realm of the unknown! There are places where time appears to lose its way, Where moments dissolve, and eternity seems to awaken. There, the very meaning of time grows uncertain, And the boundaries of reality begin to blur. Beyond the laws of the cosmos we have so carefully deciphered, Perhaps another order of existence silently unfolds. And yet, upon th...
Read more

My Crown, My Heritage, My Choice

-
Image
A sacred thread connects my roots to me, To every silver strand that time bestows; My hair holds stories of my ancestry, A strength that deep within my being grows. My hair is my minds power, bold and free, A crown of culture, care, and survival; It carries all my ancestors gave to me, Their strength and grace, their stories of revival. My kinky crown refuses to conform, It stands apart, embracing who I am; Through changing times, through calm and every storm, I wear my heritage with pride, without a sham. Even lying gently in the grass, My crown rests proudly, never losing power; For beauty is not something meant to pass, But strength that blooms within me every hour. And now, grey whispers mingle with the dark, Each silver strand reflects the years I've known; The folds upon my skin leave their own mark, A map of joys and tears that I have grown. Yet when I stand before the looking glass, I sometimes wish to colour silver hair, To brighten up my face as moments pass, To soften ag...
Read more

Krishna, the Red Flute

-
Image
  -I- Krishna, the Red Flute  On the fields of Kurukshetra wide, Where princes fell and dharma cried, A charioteer with sky-born hue, Spoke words not old, but ever new. He spoke not for gold, nor throne, nor fame, But of duty done without the claim. “Work not for self,” his voice did rise, “But for the good beneath all skies.” A flute he held, but not for song, For justice was his music long. He danced with cowherds, poor and free, No lords or slaves — just unity. He shattered caste with subtle smile, A god who walked the extra mile. He stood with Sudama, shared his crust, For love, not gold, was Krishna’s trust. He saw no king in silken thread, Nor bowed to men the market fed. “Break the chain,” his gaze would urge, “Where greed begins, let truth emerge.” No temples held his soul confined, He lived where hunger met the mind. He led not armies for command, But taught the bow to serve the land. So paint him not in royal blue — But give his skin a rebel’s hue. The red of flame, ...
Read more

The Cart of Life: A Right to Death

-
Image
Alas! Behold this cart of life, A burdened ox, 'this I who bear its strife! With heavy yoke, on paths of stones and pits, Through weary roads, my fading strength submits. Each step, a lightning bolt of pain through bone, Each breath, a poisonous smoke of grief I've known. Debt's cruel threads entangle all my frame, Does poverty's fire consume me with its flame? For what this birth? For what this mournful tread? Nought do I know, save Fate's decree instead. Behold the rising hills, Fate's grim adornments, Mountains towering high, Time's daunting bastions. Each path so steep, like frightful chasms deep, Forward I press, my tears, a barren stream, to weep. Through shifting rain and sun's scorching glare, My feet like fiery coals, my body worn with care. Hunger's sharp pangs burn deep within my gut, Diseases' cruel hands my aching body cut. For solace, I cry out, in vain, no answer near, No single ray of light, dispelling all this fear! N...
Read more

My Own Path

-
Image
 I do not fear to die without consent, It is living on this earth that fills my heart with dread; What hurdles wait for me along the road ahead, And who decided where my journey should be spent? Whom did I ask before my life began to flow, Who gave this frame, this breath that enters without choice? Outside unopened doors, who wrote my name and voice, And drew my footprints on the paths I did not know? By whose unyielding law am I compelled to live, By whose heavy decree must I endure this pain? When I fell down, you called for me to rise again, Yet when I asked "Why run?", what answer could you give? Oh world that claims to own every dream I keep, Why do you fix a price on every fear I feel? Behind invisible walls of home and public zeal, I ask just one thing: where is my consent so deep? Inside me sits a hand that holds the guiding reins- Is it fate, or God, or rules, or prisons of my mind? I do not wish to break the people that I find, I only seek to tear away these heavy ...
Read more

Banyan’s Lament

-
Image
  From temple court I am Grandma of Ficus benghalensis  and today, my child, I cry. My sari-like roots once swung with laughter, small hands curled around them like bangles of joy. But now, only the wind touches me- and even the wind feels like a stranger. Children once played in my shade, dancing circles around my trunk, pressing their faces against my bark as if listening to an ancient story. Their giggles lived in my branches, their memories wrapped around my roots. But where are they now? What path stole them away from me? Birds once perched on every limb- sparrows, myna, parrots- pecking at my figs, singing dawn into my leaves. Now only bats visit in passing, their shadows slipping across my tired skin like fleeting ghosts of a world fading. Even they do not stay. Have generations disappeared? Are the stories of the forest unraveling? My roots thirst for the waters that once embraced them. I reach deep, deeper than memory, but the streams that nursed me have withered into...
Read more

The Cobbler's Creed

-
Image
  He sits beside the roadside bare, A patch of dust, a breath of air. No studio walls, no softened chair— Just quiet craft and sunlit glare. With calloused hands and eyes grown wise, He watches life in hurried guise. Torn soles, forgotten, broken, bare, He lifts with gentle, patient care. From dawn's first hint till shadows creep, He mends the secrets shoes can keep. A worn-out sandal, broken strap, He coaxes life back to its trap. The hammer's tap, the needle's glide, A rhythm born of quiet pride. His earnings thin, a fleeting stream, A fragile balance, a distant dream. For rice, for rent, for children’s books, He stretches time in hidden nooks. Each stitch he sets, a silent vow, To change their fate, if not just now. He dreams beyond the leather’s dust— A life more fair, a world more just. The sun returns, the city stirs, The cobbler’s world, unchanged, occurs. His work begins where journeys end, A guardian of steps to mend. A craftsman bound...
Read more

The donkey met the soul of man

-
Image
  In tunnels deep, where daylight dies, Beneath the earth and ashen skies, The donkey walked with steady tread, While dust and sorrow crowned his head. With leather straps and burdened back, He trudged along the sooty track, Beside the miner, flesh and bone— Two lives condemned, yet not alone. No sunrise touched the caverns wide, No breeze to brush the donkey's hide. Just echoes thick with cough and clink, Where man and beast forgot to think. They shared the dark, they shared the load, Their silence paved the endless road. One held a pick, one bore the weight, Both prisoners sealed by profit's gate. A nuzzle here, a softened sound, A moment's care where none was found. But kindness lived in shadows thin— A fleeting grace, then back again. The man observed, through dust and dread, The patient strength, the quiet tread. No grand design, no future sought, Just honest labor, simply wrought. From humble beast, a truth he drew: To bear the load, and see it through. No words were ...
Read more

The Path to Your Own Light

-
Image
  In the vast and winding journey of life, There are shadows that can dull your light, Silent pitfalls dressed as friends, Whose presence can turn day to night.   Beware of those who leave when needed most— Their absence is a ghost, a silent ghost, They vanish like mist at dawn’s first glow, Leaving your heart heavy, feeling low.   Trust is a fragile bloom, easily torn— Those who break promises, leave you forlorn, They shatter your faith, betray your trust, Turning bonds into dust, into broken rust.   Smile bright, joy alive—yet some cannot see, Your happiness pains them, sets them free— From envy’s grasp or bitter despair, Their hearts are closed, their minds unfair.   Negative words like arrows fly— They pierce your spirit, make you cry, These voices pull you back, hold you down— Turning your crown into a thorny crown.   Support is a gift, a gentle hand— Those who abandon, who fail to stand— Leave you to struggle, to face the stor...
Read more