My Father the Mighty

The mountain my father he is

Who shelters and protects

And exposes me to every danger

With parental grace.

He inspires me strength to face risks

And sense to pull my wits

He whispers of uneven weather and

Holds it till my destination.

He blocks the cloud and

Brings down the rain to serve

The trees and animals and me

Big heart he is my father the mighty.

He adorns himself in multi colour

Every time I come along

He wants me to return often

With promise of gaiety and sunshine.

Bo too loves him a lot to

Keep coming back to the hardship

This relationship is a secret one

Between me and my father the mighty.

JUNGLE LORE

Tranquil fluidity all around is your presence,

Sounds emanated on purpose is your lesson,

Silence being the music of life is your essence,

Balance by all for all and of all is your fashion.

Different lives have a distinct sound,

Threat or fortune is interpreted on the ground,

Friend or foe is for the listener to sound,

Could be a partner or the hungry, moving around.

Every call is given either to attract the mate,

To drive away rivals and warn of a fate,

Progeny and security on every date,

Love and fear are the only two shores of your state.

Some creatures can fly, some can crawl,

Some in between, some not at all,

While some are welcome, others they fall,

Every creation is unique inside your mighty wall.

Flowers and leaves of every hue,

Fruits and fragrance to attract the few,

Nourishment in exchange of life to sew,

For preserving the cycle of existence, every role is due.

Sunlight steals softly incline,

Storms to a height and then slowly decline,

Morning rays wakes all the active to fall in line,

To industry and the evening to rest and recline.

Nothing goes waste in the Jungle ‘Bo’,

Dry leaf or branch or even dead bone,

To recycle you teach with a humble tone,

Our universe is one, to us from the urban clone.

Every life form is sourced from the basic wealth,

Universal energy is the root of every breath,

From where we come is to where we go in death,

The Jungle endures this law as a glories wreath.

AGELESS NARMADA

Your current intense and serene enchantment,

Your eternal youth and sensual movement,

Your perpetual presence and abiding dignity,

Makes ‘Bo’ wonder about your enormous longevity, O Narmade.

Through eternity and times,

Through history and rhymes,

Through mountains and meadows,

You are still a young and green ado, O Narmade.

Creation of planets, destruction of stars,

Birds and beasts, peasants and Czars,

War and worship, exodus and subsistence,

You seem to have witnessed every existence, O Narmade.

From birth to pyre, life is a transient yarn,

But it appears laws are unalike for gods and human,

From Amarkantak to the Arabian Sea,

But for disruptive twists, you are intransient see, O Narmade.

Temples and Ghats numerous all along your course,

Dargah and Church are also facets in your discourse,

Pious and the spiritual that you are to every source,

You are the divine force, O Narmade.

Your Parikrama is a pilgrimage supreme,

That powers man to the universal light,

Today however we have dammed your stream,

That’s powers our lives with the modern light, O Narmade.

Blessed are the birds and mammals that you touch,

Blessed are also the fish and plants that you shelter,

For they easily survive life’s rigorous torch,

Because of your generosity and motherly tweeter, O Narmade.

The Mountain calls

The mountain calls through mystic tips,

To undulated slopes with bulge and dip,

To trees and bushes of assorted green tints,

To loft peaks and valleys deep.

Trails lead to destinations unknown,

Birds roosting call in tongues unknown,

Rivers rumble down greeting folks unknown,

Clouds rise to adorn heavens unknown.

The mountain appears rigid and impassive,

Beneath the pretense it is soft and expressive,

Rain and wind often do break these rocks massive,

Streams create paths in apathy but decisive.

Climbing from the bottom and reaching the goal,

Gives a sense of fictitious achievement,

Without the consent of the mountain soul,

All efforts would be a glorious disappointment.

The mountain sings their love song,

They can like or loathe, protect and wrong,

“Come to see me, praise me but never fear,

Whatever is your feeling I shall reciprocate dear”.

The mountain captures the essence of life,

And distributes it free for man to survive,

We cut trees and mountains; they don’t mind,

“Replenish that with love Bo” is all they opine.