inner voice

GENERATION -XIn the realms of time,Nothing has changed, some to a dime.People are born,they age,they die,,Some live to the fullest,always on a high,Some can't get all that they want & sigh..Generations have lived in this manner,Some fair,some tanner..But come the new generation X, its a different place,Life is a game,played at the fastest pace.Who cares where parents' are, Facebook & twitter friends matter more,,Family is for granted just there to bore.Doesn't matter if my career is right,I should� lead by all means,my future bright.Money means the world to me,My cars,watches,clothes and luxuries should be there for all to see.I will play dirty, bring others down,None is my friend,, at their smile I frown.Nothing matters more than my watsapp status & more,Who cares who lives next door.Fake relations,mocking feelings,,Treating people like stock dealings.But one day age will take its toll,Life will play hide & seek & roll.That day standing alone on the path of life,None to give shoulders before the last knife....Palvi KudyarIntern,,ASCOMSA Pious SoulDoes not matter,If I am not a doctor,I am a villager,And I am a� retired master.I live in a village,Not in a city,I am simple natured,And not so witty.Being an old man,My voice is rejected,So in my old age,I feel dejected.In this age a few get justice,And do not find equity,Selfishness and partiality,Always injure fraternity.Never overlook the feelings,Of a pious soul,God! Will notice,The fair play or foul.The youth gets the place,When the old will go,And you will cut the crop,Which ever you sowGod! Is all powerfulNever forget it,His will is supreme,You can not reject it.Vidya Rattan Sharma(Senior Old Citizen)Gujroo NagrotaORANGE FOR A WHILELast eveningRain had a break,To turn all orange for a while.Corridor doors stairs and wallsTrees road cycles and carsAll for a whileTurned orange.I envisagedFrom the terrace back home,Rice crops in the fieldStretching beyond the backyardSwaying and bobbing and drapedIn this rare ephemeral blaze.Though I've heard fields being sold fastAnd that it's money in place of rice now.But i couldn't help it,This was what my eyes came up with.Laborers employedTo harvest the cropLeave their sickles and look upTheir dull tired eyes orange too.Someone jokes and passes a cigaretteOn the mud-tracks they laugh out loud.From the last visit I recall,Those tracks maimed to lose mud.Grandma, oh yesShe would've stepped out.Chipping out a crushed walnut,Passing us the salvaged fruitShe would've talked of timesWhen it was orange in the valley.Nowadays she hardly comes out.Maybe she hates thinking of those days.Then i see,Forced upon by mother's threats,Clearing the milk cups, andRunning to the playgroundThen dividing ourselves,Playing and wallowing tillEvening gave way to fresh night.I know there are no playgrounds leftAnd locality is full of houses and roads.But i couldn't help it,This was what my eyes came up with.Rupesh BhatGobind NagarTalab TilloBeing Emotionalto love somebody deeplyis being emotionalto care somebody selflesslyis being emotionalcan't live without somebodyis being emotionalhaving tears seeing somebody in tearsis being emotionalcan't see somebody in painis being emotionalcan't restrict to help somebody in needis being emotionalheart throbs seeing somebody in distressis being emotionalcan't afford to lose someone dearis being emotionalif all this means "being emotional"then its ok, I am happy with it.tag of 'emotional fool' is far better thanbeing emotion less.living without emotions is worthless,a dead body can perform it better.I think this is what,an essential ingredient of a human being.Jagbir Singh JamwalTope Sherkhanian, Jammu