Today, Here, Now……

Where in the world
Should one be searching for peace

Which table today
Should one play to win the game

When can one be
Quite and still exist

And when will all the dices
Fall just right

Stronger one should grow
Not outside but Inside

Compassionate one should be
Not just inside but truly outside

Pursue one should
Not dreams but values

Help one should
Not just the needy but also the mute

Follow one should
Always the heart over the head

Know one should, right from the wrong
Because it is fairly simple

Believe one should
In everything good and true

Fight one should
When evil descends on them

Quite one should be more
If words should bear meaning
And be heard

What one does
Is the reflection of who they are

Who they are
Is the result of what they think

And what they think
Is always (I repeat always) in their own control

There are no wins and victories in this world
Only happiness uncovered amidst unaccounted failures

No battles to be won, No war to be fought
No tests to pass in, No proofs to be given

Don’t search for change
Don’t wait for it to happen

Today, here, now…..
That is all you have……
That is all you will ever have……

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Posted in Poetry by Vinod Narayan. View Comments

63rd Independence Day – I owe them all

A midnight sixty three years ago
We walked our baby steps FREELY
Now reaching atop the global commerce
A billion people celebrate India

A pious soul in a loin cloth
Taught the world Nonviolence
A World leader par excellence
laid foundation for a battered nation
And an iron man by his side
secured the nation state by state

The countless heroes who fell fighting
The revolutionaries who died so young
The poets who wrote so bold and true
The teachers who taught us History

The heroes of today in uniforms
who stay awake in heat and cold
To give us the fruits of real freedom
Sleep at ease and wake up free

I owe them every word I write
I owe them every spoken word

Jai Hind – Happy Independence Day to All

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The Chosen One

The saints from the heavens came with the daily bowl of porridge
They saw me watering the plants.

They asked if I was the gardner.
I was hungry and I lied. 
”Yes I am I said”
They gave me the porridge and I was sold out on my hunger

When the old gardner came I told him what happened
I said I was sorry but he went to the elders
I pleaded to the elders but they would not listen
I called out to the mortal gods and begged mercy

They all said in one voice
“you have been chosen by the saints.
Now you will garden for the rest of your life”

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Posted in Opinions Poetry by Vinod Narayan. View Comments