Deshmukhumang

A Blunder

On a cosy afternoon,
seeing those hills and
clouds and nature,
I wondered
If love isn’t one big blunder?

Those clouds touching hills,
peacock dancing in fields,
mountains turning green,
And,
till we fall in love with all this blends
monsoon ends.

Well, someone asked me,
If its seasonal and
arrives every year
Why do you still wonder?

with a soft smile
I answered,
monsoon illustrate humans,
those blends stay same
but today the love
has turned seasonal
that is why i wonder
If love isn’t one big blunder?

_ Umang Deshmukh

Amid Dreams and Reality

My mind slumbered in the library of unreality of the world, awaking my thoughts suppressed by the empty headed librarians.

A heart brimmed with voices and ceaseless words but, Just like fiction poems it stayed as an abstraction.

In the middle of night when my mind is awaken poetry runs into my nerves, words soaring high through my brain, and in a complete silence an alcoholic is high on his phrases.

In the world full of unrealism realistic poetries can be the source of realism, yet it lives in the phrases that echoes from the library of my heart.

Hills I Could Reach

Those aesthetic mountains hidden behind the trees standing still, destination unknown all while climbing the mountains.

Set foot on the top, put a glance and unfailingly you’ll find an exquisite scenery and your tiredness will fly with the soaring of birds and fluttering of wind.

Dealing with nature rises triumph but dreams hidden behind the journey, sometimes with the known destination remains partial.

I hope my mind could settle like the sun in the horizon And my soul rises like the moon in the midnight.

Another Day In Paradise

To say that we are one but how far are we apart,
How is this impotentness?

Humans say eyes speak,
look at the twain,
glowing and flickering
yells one.
Swollen and red whose condition is dread
mumbles another.

Tangled are the children,
what to do is the question
utters the one,
dying to live
or
Living to die
questions another.

We are frustrated behind the doors,
No end of work and
much needed change,
Delicious food is now boring for them.
End of work and
much needed change
starving for edibles,
To be or not to be is the question for them.

We all are running in the same race,
you are five laps ahead,
I am five laps behind,
You go into the beautiful sights of tropical paradise,
And I just wait for another day in paradise.

A Letter To Mr. Bean

It’s a joy writing you this letter. I have grown up watching you. I have been watching you since decades. I’ll always admire you for mustering the courage to smile in any situation.

You always enjoyed your life. The crazy innovation by you which made you sit on a car and drive it by a broom,Your food competition in the hotel,Your struggle to stay awake during a church service, getting dressed in the car as you were late for a dental appointment etc.

Your bonding with your teddy, your love for your car, teaches us that you can find your friend in any one.You made me realize that we can find joy of wonders in very tiny things and also left me a question, whether we humans have lost our simplicity?

As a child you were entertainment but as an adult I understood enjoying your own company is not lonely. Please come back.

Mother : Your Forever Friend

I must be just a sentence in everyone’s life. but a beautiful phase in my mother’s story, genuinely this gives me a touching glory.

Some 17 years back for the first time I cried and you smiled. That was the only day where I shedded tears and your face was full of happy layers.

Satisfyingly living on this bewitching earth with all my worth, just because you are the reason behind my birth.

Ma, you perpetually keep me enlightening with all of your grace and say education is a journey and not a race. And always leave me free to perceive my own space.

Ma, you always agreed with my constructive choice in which you never raised your voice, Instead we had a best conversation, which progressed my motivation.

I was never raised as a girl child but just as a child by you mumma, so that I promise I’ll never be your mental trauma.

All the time you kept me aware of the things which I see. Though I am a tree of your seed, but you never sowed your thoughts in me and let me fly free.

You never let my childhood fly in the ointment. Instead it is filled with all the mesmerizing moments. I was never entangled in any traditional nuisance but you didn’t even hide the things behind the mirror of translucence.

Journey from catching your hand while walking in the garden to catching the ball while Fielding on the ground will always remain golden.

Ma, you never worried what will your child become tomorrow but you always remembered she is something today I hope you’ll always stay with us, In the journey of life’s bus.

Society is fostering Inhumanity

Silence!Silence!Silence, key for another violence. Unlettered were the bygone ages, Inhumanity had many faces. Things happened brazenly, as humans were judged racially.

Now, Jurisdiction originated. Humans are educated. Time elapsed, Some things lapsed. Not completely but incompletely. Still Inhumanity has many faces, But remains unspoken at many places.

Meaningless is education If there is no civilization. Better to be an uneducated human with humanity, rather than being educated humans with Inhumanity.

We forget, A women is our mother A girl is our sister. We forget, A man is our father A boy is our brother. We forget A widow and widower are our relatives. From nonhuman(animals) to human, We all are one.

Let’s smash the past, And start loving a fellow human, more than our caste. Let the Inhumanity blast. Let the Humanity outlast.

Unleash The Chain

She was a lioness in the birdcage, a bird in the depths of the sea. She was powerful and free but she was not where she should be.

She is trapped in a cage guarded with only conservative minds, what a sad little world with ignoramus mankind.

If i were an artist i would paint you wings so you would go to the places where u don’t feel caged.

Females spend so much of their lives assimilating into dreams that are not theirs, into arms that don’t deserve them and a world that doesn’t see them.

Now it’s time to cease customizing and start living the ‘real me’

I know the brightness of the sun has died in you and that’s how you became a home for darkness, but go into the unknown place and find a new spark.

And always remember you are an explorer of love, hopes and attainment.

That darkness was too deep .

“How do you want to shine it ?

With that candle?

With that torch ?

Not even the sun could make it.”

And then she realized she was all the light that she needed.

Let yourself alone in the tinted sky. Make use of your wings and fly, Learn to be free, unchained and emerge high to annihilate dominance with a final goodbye.

Remember, you are a human before being a woman.

Turning point is always welcomed

A breech baby girl who just loved playing since childhood and was allergic towards reading books. At the age of 14 for the first time she held a bat in her hand, yes cricket was and is her passion. Struggling for it was & is her choice but holding a book in her hand was never her choice.

In one afternoon there was a divergent moment for her in her life; in the search of school books she found a book lying in her home named ‘Seeing like a feminist’. She curiously read it and for the first time she held a book in her hand. Reading a complete book made her feel solace. After her 10th her mother gifted her book named ‘The Second Sex’. It took 5months for her to complete that book. She really began loving books and then she went through many books. And this time holding a book in her hand was her choice. Books made her realize one thing that ‘books take you to the places where you can’t travel.’

A year passed and after working on it for 3 days she composed a poem about her mother on her birthday. She really felt it appealing and this moment she found her hidden talent,after then she contentedly started composing many poems. She even composed poems on some pictures which she felt were fascinating. Day by day she was snarling about those things because writing was a thing in which she got her own space and freedom for words and her thoughts.

In Spite of this alluring turn cricket and sports still remain her passion. Now the question is who is she and that’s me. Sometimes you should walk on ‘The Road not Taken.’