At the Threshold


at the threshold

It is the ultimate watershed moment in life –
The decisive lap of your life-long run.
Your impish destiny concocts a nasty plot,
to terminate your tryst with frivolity and fun.

You are ushered into the realms of adulthood,
Trembling at the sight of the hurdles ahead.
To hell with the complexities of adult life –
Give me back my golden teenage instead!

The greatest web of all contraries…
The supreme experimental laboratory of fate.
Where life entices you with its juicy prospects,
and you are naive enough to take the bait.

Robbed of the innocence that childhood imparts,
and still short of the wisdom that comes with age.
Rebellious instincts make social bombs out of us,
and only stronger muscles can appease our rage.

Too young to dabble in politics and economy,
Too old to indulge in silly paediatric pranks.
Too wild to pay heed to idealistic preaching,
Too enlightened to be wooed by guns and tanks.

We are too plucky to be afraid of failures,
and too anxious of our standing amongst peers.
We are too candid to fall prey to hypocrisy,
And too conceited to ignore applauding cheers.

It is the time we actually discover ourselves,
and fuel the splendid fires that shape our wills.
Encompassing the world in our sphere of desire,
we strive to develop world-conquering skills.

The more we find out about the world around us
The more we realize how little we really know.
The greater we try to chain our deepest desires
The sooner they break free – all raring to go.

But amidst this scheming cloud of conflicts,
your individuality is memorably conceived.
And soon you discover the terrains of reality –
A stark contrast to what you had so far perceived.

Our shoulders are now strong enough to bear,
the burdens that are soon to be flung upon them.
Our senses are all eager to swim in new waters,
with a thoroughly upgraded brain at the helm.

How sad that life has no ‘rewind’ button…
to replay all those memories of years gone by.
But then all good things must come to an end,
and you have to give the newer things a try.

Adieu! My dear teenage – it was nice meeting you…
you have empowered me to face the world.
On this great altitude that you have set me upon,
I stand now with the flag of my identity unfurled.


NISHANK MEHTA  |  30.09.2008


Green Signal


green signal

A green carpet spread beneath my feet,
and a sepulchral dome of blue above…
I stood pondering over our equation with nature
and everything that fills her treasure trove.

The benevolent mother of greedy billions…
The silent surveyor of each and every sin.
Pain and agony fill her every single breath,
as she is mercilessly exploited by her kin.

Her omniscience is as impeccable as ever,
she knows the consequences we are destined to face.
She pities our nonchalance and ignorance,
as we foolishly tamper with her dignity and grace.

With a sobbing heart, she ceaselessly grieves,
as her veins are poisoned by what our factories spit.
But a shameless humanity mocks and molests her,
and behaves with her as it deems fit.

Our ruthless attacks have left their scars,
in the crown of ozone that adorns her head.
And though she seals her lips with vast tolerance,
we mindlessly spray her face with mercury and lead.

She knows she is foolish to harbour such fiends,
but she cannot bear to see them languish.
And so she suffers so that we may prosper,
and never ever voices her wails of anguish.

But when we meddle in matters not meant for us
and treat His greatest creation with little care…
It’s impossible to escape the noose of justice,
and future will strip these sins of past bare.

She knows it now, as she knew it then –
and being a mother has warned us as well.
Each tsunami, earthquake or a lava eruption,
is a mere snapshot of what lies in store in hell.

Yet we contemptuously dismiss these warnings,
to continue our imperious march to global havoc.
Extinction will soon be staring at our faces,
as death and destruction are bound to run amok.

This ailing planet is on critical life support,
and our insipid response has left it aghast.
It is begging us to take the green turn soon,
Lest the obdurate wheels of time run past.

Nature’s coffers are slowly but surely drying,
from our reckless use over all these years.
And a mother groans in stifled despair, searching
amongst her children for sympathetic ears.


NISHANK MEHTA  |  29.09.2008