Creative Guncha

Petrichor ! After a heavy work day, When things seem amiss. One must sit in a garden, Water sprinkling amidst. The earth around all wet, Engulfing the senses with a mist. Soulful symphony of wet earth Touching a chord in the heart, a tryst ! Water falling onto the soil, So sun kissed. The first rainfall of the season, Making this soil tranquil. Filling its pores down, Upto the crypt. Reaping the seeds planted, Delicately earth laced air rises. The smell of this wet earth, Adds such a thrill. Consumes one with, An extraordinary bliss. Of oneness of soul, It speaks. For, from this soil we all arise, And to it as ashes we must return when we die ! Dr. Guncha Gupta 28/4/19

Nature and Me - A reverie! One fine sunny day I decide to travel, Spend a night on grounds of gravel. In an old farm house, a new story to dabble, Lying on a hammock saddle. I gaze up the tree and grapple, At the stretched ropes of my hammock. Balancing, my mind wanders. As I lie down and ponder, About fate, life and beyond her. I grow fonder, Of this tranquil place yonder. No time to squander, My piece I must conder. I see the tree with my hammock tied, I feel the breeze, Its shade wide. As the mulberry leaves flutter, My eyes wander, To detect a parrot camouflaged. Gently without fluster, Pecking with hooked red beak at mulberries. Not a sound it seems to make, Lest these long juicies crawl away. I wonder if to it worms they resemble, I sit so still, to think I tremble. Not a whisper nor a shake. Nothing that might break, From a reverie awake, A bird perched and a human that lay, Waiting for some tried, tested mulberries to fall away. Sharing in magi

A Coop! The young rooster struts around, Then it perches up the mound. Preening and primping till all the hens surround. Its feathers are white, Blood red comb bright. Wattles long, Breast jutting out with pride. It inspects its coop, Till hens and chicks line up in a loop. Crackling and crowing, It commands its troop ! The hens follow its every move ! It puts up quite a show to prove, That an order and a structure it has brought, To that noisy flock ! Pecking and squawking it takes stock, Its long tail circling like a frock ! It regulates feeds, Allowing timely seeds ! Keeps the predators at bay, So the hens can safely lay. Hence know If you plan to roost You must head to a rooster’s coop ! Dr. Guncha Gupta 21/4/19

Age Wise ! As the years pass by, And I grow older. I find myself at a loss, As I sit back and ponder. A decision I must now take, To age with grace, And embrace, Those peculiar quirks that one begins to trace. On head, body or the face ! And know it’s just a phase A part of a life lesson, That time and tide wait for none ! I look at those little imposters, That within my head I foster That threaten to auster, And change my posture ! Adding that grey blotter, To the brown on my head. I look at them and wonder why, I need to dye, The only signs of any wisdom, Aye ! Tiny wrinkles around my eyes, That I see magnified Five times in that mirror ! I look at them and wonder why, Those I rather enjoy. Cause they add a twinkle, Little laughter and a light hearted crinkle ! That memory I could so vouch for, Remembering details that threaten to bore. Mountains out of anthills I could make, Remembering, repeating , a take and a re- take! No event or a face, C

Balloon Seller Balloons, balloons, colourful balloons ! Red, Yellow, Green and Blue. Ten for one and eighteen for two ! He tempts us all, his maths a clue ! Killing any bargain, his intent so true. Shouting and singing - balloons balloons ! He blew, Helium inflated bunch that flew. Vivid spots scattered like dew, Up in the sky, bid them adieu ! Inflated bags, Full of gas, A team of toddlers he attracts. Whistling a jolly tune, Raggedly dressed as he pedals in afternoon, Unmindful of the hot sun, he seems immune ! Carrying string tied colourful platoon. You should see the children swoon, To his cycle tagged swaying balloons, Dancing to his lively bassoon. No matter how much a mother dissuades, Toddler, kindergartener, an infant still sways, Eyes darting, this and that way, Till the balloon man chooses to stay, And pull out a colour that the child conveys ! Tricking a mother into delay, Persuading a package deal as she surveys, His distinguished collection

Me, A Mother ! Exhausted and weary I looked down, Into my arms with a little frown. A tiny bundle wrapped in a starched green gown. Smell of hospital and antiseptic making me drown, In feelings so myriad as to astound! Anxious with my head bent down, The little bundle wriggling, As a tiny foot peeped out. Pale pink, so tender and soft to touch ! My heart flush, With emotions unnamed, untouched, In a corner somewhere as yet unexplored, Face red with a tender blood rush, A Blush ! Tentatively I unbundled My bundle. As it tumbled, Out and I cuddled. For the first time, I trembled, Unsure, my heart fluttered. As I saw those blue black lips puckered, As though to cry out - mother ! Mother ! Oh brother ! Her little nose flared, As my scent it sensed. A world of emotions I discovered, As her eyes she uncovered. My first connect developed. Maternal instinct took over, All my misgivings were over. And to my bosom I hugged her. Instinctively cooing a little

The Lord’s Muse ! A cool evening twilight, Starless sky, Zephyr slight, Showers with thunder and might, From heat a respite. Clouds dark with edges silvery white, Sky changing colour by the minute, Shining from occasional thunderstorms and light. Breezy weather, Such a pleasure. To be the Lord’s own muse! As He views, Through the cloud shutter, Lens aperture, Opens and shuts, As if to click a picture ! A lucky treasure ! I stare, Awestruck at first. Belatedly smiling, Lest He should stop filming, A moment most thrilling. My grandiose posing ! Gestures most exaggerating, But heart warming ! Me and God chilling ! In the midst of thundering Rain and storm ! Dr. Guncha Gupta 5/4/2019

A Superstition ! Little Mynah sits and chirps, On the clothes line on my turf. Even before my eyes can adjust, To the random motion of the dust, In the first light beam of the sun. Time to wake up and go for a run. Persistent in its effort, Chirping me out of comfort And forcing me to get up ! Brown body with a black hooded head, Leaves its cozy little nest. A yellow patch behind the eye, The bill and legs are yellow bright. Perched in my balcony with the first light, One or Two as they deem right, Chirping till they are in my sight. One or Two before my morning cup, One I believe is not such a good luck. Foretells a day that might suck ! Or just be a lame, lame duck. Two, Yes! two is just what I love. Harbinger of a joyous trove. How I wish to see these two, First thing when my eyes open, I do! A prediction of happiness, a treasure. Oh! such great a pleasure. They herald good fortune for me, A day full of excitement and enthusiastic ecstasy! Even a thi