His Eyes Captured

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

A dedication to all photography enthusiasts

The smile of the child in her tears, the smile of the last goodbye amidst the sorrow of parting,

He adjusted the focus right and got the curve copied clear

Decoding the beauty obscured by the common stigma,

Looking beyond the fictitious charm, spotting the lost enigma

His was the ability to find the joy of victory in the trembles of fear.

 

While all hurdled to spot the shooting star, he stood apart to bring out a story of the hiding moon,

While all cupped their hand on their foreheads to see sunset

He waited indifferently till the dusk and hues of the day met.

While all stopped to see the peacock flaunt its glory,

He stopped to shoot the little creature in the mud, working in its self-made winery.

 

With his only instrument that could in silence record volumes

He mastered its use to chase those moments which could make eternal memories

And trained himself to imprison the mystery of the galaxies.

And then on, his eyes captured the sights that emotions could not spell

His eyes captured the emotions that words would shy to tell.

His eyes captured the lost rebel that before the uprising was made to quell.

WAQT HAI KAISA SAATHI

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

Waqt hai kaisa Saathi, uljhe jaati hun iski peheli mein par phir bhi samajh nahi pati.

Kabhi mujhse daud lagakar mujhse aage Nikal jaata hai,

toh kabhi dost jaise mere ghavon Ko sambalta hai.

 

Kabhi mujhe chidane ke chakar mein khud chid jata hai,

Toh kabhi mujhe jitane ki umeed mein jaane kahan muje hara jaata hai.

Phir bhi mera saath na choda iss waqt ki parchayee ne.

 

Uske saath rehna hi shayad jevan jeena hota hai.

Saath rahun iske, gale lagkar mein?

Ya dushman bankar uski sachaiyan jan lu mein?

 

Kya waqt naadan hai itna, ki pas hokar bhi mujhse dur jata hai,

Ya mein hi hun baiman ki usse kiye Wade yeh mera mann bhul sa jata hai

Hai kaisa Saathi waqt yeh ki apnalun jitna utna hi anjan hota jata hai,

 

 

Mukar jaon jitna utna hi paas apne kheech lata hai.

Kaboo karne ki koshish karun jitna,

Utna he betaab banata jata hai.

 

Aise sawal la khade karta hai,

Ki jeevan ka naksha bhi disha dhundne lagta hai.

Par waqt iska naam hai, apne hi waqte mein jawab khud hi de deta hai.

 

Jab mitti se mehel ki eet bani thi, uss mehel ko bante dekha usne apni jawani mein

Abhi uss mitti ko kabar par lage, dekhta hai who apni prodta mein.

Jaanta hai waqt yeh, har woh raaz, jo chupa hai kahi itithas ke panno mein.

 

Hai waqt yeh kaisa saathi, ki saath dun  jitna utna he mujhe paraya kar deta hai

Ke jaan lun jitna, utna he muje vismit kar deta hai.

She was a princess, before you

 

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

Maybe someone’s queen now, someone’s lifeline now,

But much before that she was her daddy’s little princess, to her mother a royal bride

Before you embraced life from her,

Before she chose to bear the painful pangs for you,

She too was pampered and caressed, just as she now does to you

For she too was a princess before she kissed your little head,

Though now she has forgotten how, and you have not known how.

 

Now that you are, she has left behind her traits of royalty, shed them one by one.

Shed it… when she suppressed her desires, to make real yours,

When she sacrificed her success, to facilitate yours,

When she gave up her choices to respect yours,

Forgetting that she was a princess…as she made you her prince.

 

In the struggle to nurture her prince, she has let go her royal tantrums,

In the night to ensure your sound sleep, she has given up her guarded rest.

In annoying moments when she would like to throw a fuss, she now has yours to carter.

On occasions, all admiration that she could have royally received, she let them become yours.

But forget not that she was a princess, before you were.

Yesterday’s Road & New Struggles

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

New corridors, new sights

Familiar voices, new intensities.

New struggles to maintain old reprises.

 

Planned set ups, planned latitudes

Familiar routines, planned false doctrines

Planned ploys to overcoming unplanned vicissitudes.

 

Expected challenges, expected endeavours

Familiar encounters, expected strains

Expected jerks, aided by unexpected manoeuvres.

 

Spirited moderates, spirited rebels

Familiar enthusiasm, spirited convictions

Spirited resolves to let die unspirited quibbles.

 

Yesterday’s actuality, yesterday’s talk

Familiar taglines, yesterday’s story

Yesterday’s road bending into a new found path to walk.

 

 

 

Two Opposing Thoughts

This poem is written by Clarissa D’Lima (BA. LLB. Class of 2021)

 

Two opposing thoughts, four directions in both, each springing from a unique entity

Weaned by different conjectures, moulded and scarred by circumstantial disparity.

Treading and rolling ahead to bring out distinct identity.

Directed towards veiled common pursuits, yet threatened in each other’s vicinity.

 

In the once serene garden of thoughts, now opinions are lost amid noise.

Controversies, confrontations mixed in cacophonic confusion have stripped words of their poise.

Fear and havoc, as tools to choke the informed voice.

Motives of power have made citizenry freedom its toys.

 

The solemn responsibility of human welfare taken as a shield against tolerance.

How can welfare be achieved without forbearance?

The fear of division as the as justification for schemed menace.

How enduring is unity is despondence?

 

Are our common fooleries greater than the individual sensibilities we like to flaunt?

Is there a nationalist so great who desires flourishing ideas to turn gaunt?

Why we fuel rages that serve no want?

Why obstruct the peace of discussion with the poor instruments of violence and taunts?