Friendship Sonnet

When to the session of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death¹s dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish¹d sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.

William Shakespeare

Comments

THE DEBATE WHICH IS ON.....

I may receive much criticism for the posting that follows. I strictly base this writing on what I consider is my understanding of the subject; what I have witnessed from my briefest of contact with real rural India and which I have debated with myself a million times. 33% reservation for women!!!!!!!! This has been taken up as the call of the hour the need of our times……I say why not….. QUESTION: Women have always wanted EQUALITY in our society; so why now this 33% reservation………. THE REALITY: EQUALITY has for long been the passion of women’s movement worldwide; just like other how everyone who is socially conscious longs for peaceful, just, equal world. But is this so in the real context. What we long for needs time for achievement. But progressive aspects like “EQUALITY” happen only when De Jure and De Facto fall on similar planes ………… In reality women lack equal footing in many cases, this 33% would be a boost towards achieving a push forward. Also women Panchayat leaders are looki...

Everywhere we see the glaring images of people groaning in pain, incessant scenes of confusion, bloodshed, personal tragedy of families and so on. ...

A view of greenery, The silence of nature, But there is nothing “Natural” about this scene. Instead of chirping, All we hear is the hissing of the burning tyres. It is a scene after a serial blast. As time progresses we can hear the lower tones Of humans moaning out of pain. It is a scene of death. A murder of human spirit. A murder of humanity. A murder of the democratic spirit; Anything-aspiring equality; Anything inspiring truth; Or striking the soul for a change: Why is violence sought out? Why is it seen as the means to attaining Equality? Is “Bloodshed” the means to a fair end? Why is the act of disillusioned humans regarded as ‘glory’ by groups?

My hobby

Hidden by layers of books, Beneath the shelves, Lay a forgotten hobby of mine- As I blow out the dusty cover, Preserved are the strings of joy; Reminding me of a forgotten promise- The promise to pursue this hobby!

Chimerical echoes

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