inner voice


To the Horse
I would say
Horse eats heaps of hay
His baby is cute bay
I think where on the ground they lay?
Horses in the vale are bigger
Please don’t put them on the trigger
How fast they run
Like the bullet in the gun
More faster than the rays of sun
I think they’re fit because they don’t eat McDonald’s bun
And picks up lots of ton
They are mostly brown
In running have a crown
They are fast
Run vast
Till the last
In the present, future and past
I love their maines
And the hot blood in their veins
Don’t put them on check reins
I love it
In it, no tit bit
And how do they sit?
How do they play?
And pull that heavy sleigh
I love horses
Mahin Mahajan
Jodhamal Public School


A Nomadic Romancer

When a man and a woman are intensely affectionate
to each other, we say they are in love or romance. I
experience a different kind of romance, more subtle
and more intensive, making me forget all and sundry.

When I see a charming woman, pretty, fair, and slim,
a pleasant shockwave travels from top to bottom in
my body. It is not infatuation, I have no desire to take her
into my arms. Of course, she remains in me for a while.

When I hear a scintillating song, classical or informal,
or an instrumental, I feel someone is calling me from somewhere far off. When I see a classical dance by a
young woman, my soul flies away and reaches paradise.

When I visit a temple that has alluring sculpted statues,
my heart trembles with unknown excitement and pleasure.
When I go to an ecstatic garden, my soul wanders, touching
each tender flower delicately with delight and enjoyment.

When I read a stunning achievement by a poor person
or a fabulous philanthropic act by a wealthy person, my
eyes get filled with joyous tears. For that matter, even
when a cool breeze hits me, I lose myself to nature.

When I watch a great movie, my soul leaves me and reaches
the depths of humanity. When I witness a thrilling football match, my heart pounds uncontrollably. And the same transpires in me when I look at an enchanting oil painting.
Am I not a nomadic romanticist?
Dr Y. Udaya Chandar