Are you listening, Prof. Higgins....! ! ! !
Well Prof. Higgins, I’ll like to bring you up to date
Mention of a woman need no longer get you into a state.
You’ll be surprised things have changed
Since Pygmalion was first staged.
No longer a woman’s anxious little hand
Is just waiting to wear a wedding band.
She has far too many interests
Other than her dresses and gloves.
A woman needs as much space
As you rightly said, even if just to laze.
By the way, when she call her friends
They just don’t talk of cars and gizmos to no end.
It’s no longer true that women can’t go out alone
And always need to be chaperoned.
Women too will rather have their tooth drilled
Than live with a man who is utterly selfish.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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One Stormy Night
As I heard sound of footsteps outside my door
I stifled my sobs in my throat
And pretended to be fast asleep
As I like to deal privately with my grief.
My apartment faced the sea shore
I could hear the sound of a heavy downpour.
The sea was tumultuous and rough
It was scary to see the waters rise several meters up.
Was it also going into convulsions to express its protest?
I wondered as I lay feeling bereft.
Waves and waves of emotions engulfed me
And I felt I will drown in the sea
Of my sorrow, or my heart will burst.
Whatever happened to my passion and lust
For life, I asked as painful memories resurged.
How did I allow myself to be submerged
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Laughter is time tested medicine
People may not be laughing
All the way to the banks,
But going by SMS AND JOKES,
Still some have humour intact.
What if many have closed shop
And filed for bankruptcy,
As they are on the verge
Of going broke and hungry.
All streets-Wall or Dalal-
Bears are roaming freely
Its there day out-
Bulls have retreated meekly.
Who are Lehman Brothers?
What’s all the fuss about?
Are they fighting over property
Is it a family feud?
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Joys of Motherhood
When I gingerly held my new born,
I could have at that moment sworn,
As I watched him with moist eyes,
I had no clue my life was going to turn topsy turvy
Sleepless nights, making the formula right,
I think those days I looked a sight.
But when he looked at me with trust
I would forget all my fatigue.
I couldn’t stop talking about him,
At times it irked my husband a bit.
He complained now I have no time
For him and my son was my only priority.
The years flew, he started school,
He looked up to me as his idol
But soon the place was replaced by his teachers,
Who he told me knew better.
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Homage to the Common Man
Step aside,
Kings and princes-
Hamlet, Lear and Othello,
Fictional tragic heroes,
For long
You have kept us
Mesmerised.
Here comes the common man,
Who watches in stupor
As his family is burnt alive.
The last time
He heard his
Dear wife’s voice
Was on the mobile,
Cinema hall is on fire,
There is no way
we can survive.
So this is goodbye.
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My Young Teacher
Anika awakens the child in me,
I watch her, as she fetches her toys
And shows off with pride and glee
With her, I don’t have to act poised.
I know, she is actually aware,
Whether am really having fun
Or just pretending to be there.
She never walks, always runs.
Chasing the butterflies and bees
With her frock flying in the air,
I run after her to ensure and see
She may not fall but she couldn’t care.
She dances with sheer abandon,
She hasn’t yet discovered fear.
Her infectious joy fills me with sudden
Energy, I boldly invite her and declare,
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Freedom From Martyrdom
As I carried a glass of hot milk at night,
I believe has Tryptophan, helps sleep tight.
Passed by his door slightly ajar, hand on mouse
Eyes glued to the lap top, pin dropp silence in the house.
I promised myself to confront him next day
And say in an even and firm tone this is no way.
Next morning at nine o clock rang his cell phone.
Checking his mail he muttered please leave me alone.
Hesitantly he took the call, and raised his voice in irritation,
What, a call from centre for de addiction and rehabilitation?
Glared at me, if only looks could kill; you need help you do;
Please do I as I say, I blurted, or else I am sure to leave you.
He didn’t even pause, said allow me to make reservations.
Totally unprepared, was aghast at his curt suggestion.
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Man with a vision! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Child, its late, are you awake?
Ill pull up quilt and just fake.
He would walk away saying no hurry.
It’s bright and sunny but not to worry.
Oh, it’s his weekly off day.
I thought as I quietly lay.
He loved the family up and around.
House filled with laughter’s sound.
He was a man with vision,
And quietly on a mission.
Today I fondly reminisce
It’s been long since
Heard him recount his life
And how he met his wife.
A woman of substance,
Who learnt classical dance
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Life in a Metro
I live in an apartment on the first floor,
With my name engraved on a brass plate on the door.
Since I am most of the time alone,
The only time I see a soul
Is when I step on the terrace,
Above my garage.
I see some watchmen playing cards,
And maids walking their wards.
It seems people prefer to stay indoors,
I wonder whether they get bored.
It’s the month of May and beads of perspiration
Cover my face and I wonder why I had this aspiration,
To live in a metro while I was growing up
In a small city, I really feel stumped.
You are on a nodding relationship with your neighbors,
And hesitate to ask them for a favor.
People are always fighting for parking space
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Am putting in my papers! ! ! ! ! ! !
While filling the form for a credit card
Against occupation I wrote, am a bard.
The clerk said Madam, your real occupation.
I blurted, heading a small organization.
Very challenging, have to multi task
It’s actually, I think, too much to ask.
Am in charge of child development,
Accounts, house keeping and management.
Mouth open and ball pen frozen in mid air,
He gaped at me from his ergonomic chair.
Wow, you must so much power wield.
It’s a 24/ 7 job in lab and the fields.
Have to juggle like a clown in a circus,
Many hats…one plus, it’s not monotonous.
You know a real challenge to my ingenuity.
He looked at me with awe and incredulity.
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