Girls' college

 Girls' colleges in India suffer from a variety of malaise . 

To keep the girls "safe" , you have to keep them in covers . The quintessential quandary of burqa. How does a woman live and breathe in a world full of lecherous glances / thoughts/ people / vermin ? 

Malaise number one: in order to keep "vultures" from circling, they are located very far from the main road . So Google maps will take you off the National Highway, onto a single road , amid trees and foliage , nestled deep in the pind ( rural area ) , thereby making it all but inaccessible. Not just for the " vultures" but also for the girl students . 

Number two: the faculty should comprise of mainly women for obvious reasons . Plus the grade four and house keeping staff too . 

Isulate , if you can't insulate, at least pretend to. And cushion. Appoint old men as bus drivers , khalasis , chaprasis , gardeners . Of course, the principal should be a lady. 

I am in  one such college. A certain exam is being held here . 

That is all it is used for right now.

Examinations .

It no longer imparts any education to anyone . 

The college died during COVID when it was shut down. Some deaths in the senior faculty, drying up of funds and the college went belly up. 

My father Giani ji

A speck of blue turban

in a sea of unfamiliar faces

and i knew i was home.

Tall , majestic, greying

and eyes that breathed

compassion

attending to everyones needs

simultaneously

lending an ear here

and a hand there

hands broad knuckled, gentle

patted aberrant babies to sleep

mended broken toys

wrote countless documents

turned pages ; held hands

lifted babies ;fixed leaking taps

chopped onions

and prayed

brow ever so white

and pure

a smile ever so genuine

a laughter ever so true

a speech ever so profound

a heart ever so full of

love and warmth

whence forth the time materialised

to help grandchilren with their home work

to help grand mother in the kitchen

to make family videos

to assist grown up sons in their paper work

in their family

to arrange for weddings and funerals

to never forget any birthday or anniversary

to give and give some more

To be there for everyone

to be transformed into a real ,

breathing benediction ; an angel

in human form

to depart

when everyone

is fast asleep

a pat here; a sheet gently pulled

there

a softly spoken goodbye

that is how

the man who i call

my father

lived

and died.

A winter lesson

 Harbouring a dream is a dangerous thing 

It bites , kicks , roasts , and stings

Above all, possibly most importantly 

It won't let you slump , slouch and die 

It will keep you alive, clicking 

Keep your tiny clock ticking 

But yourself you'll keep kicking 

If you lag behind, you'll be sighing 

Wring your hands, pick on your flaws 

Know yourself, friends and foes 

No one can help you, no one will 

For its all in your mind, be still 

Above all, welcome stillness 

In a chaotic world of silliness 

Of this and that, rights and wrongs

All your  unspoken thoughts,unsung songs

Free yourself from shackles of what if 

Life is a main course, no appertif

You have lived okay, come this far 

On a wintry morn, leave the door ajar 

Listen to the chill draught chortle 

The freeze , the shiver, the luften 

A lesson from nature, we learn 

To pass into oblivion, the green 

With silence and grace and quietude 

Let your work ( if you have any) , prelude 

Speak up for you, like fallen leaves 

Frozen ground, dripping wet eaves