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Return The Gold

By Nickmard Khoey [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons

Last night I woke up to thunderous noise. I thought it must be raining but there was no sound. The sole street lamp was shining through my room window with full glare so the question of lightening was also ruled out. I am known to be calmest of all beings and a sound sleeper but that night, it was different.

Still not out of bed, I felt my body being very tired and heavy. I was unable to move any limbs. I started to hear a voice. 

The voice: “I am God. I wish my gold to be returned back to my temple, Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple.”

Unable to utter a single word, as if in trance where I folded my hands, I spoke in my mind, “I am North Indian and simple devotee, God. What do I know about Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple? People or media will laugh over me, if I told them you instructed me to tell so.”

The voice: “Listen being, I am God. I am a concept. People believe in me. Ask the government why they think it is not an important case.”

I: “God, to government every discovered item is like a national property. God is a superficial idea which cannot be proved. They will not just disregard me but implicate me in certain case to spend rest of my life in jail.”

The Voice: “Innocent being! I have created oceans, forests, hills and materials of unknown and utmost importance. There is never going to be dearth of it. Ask government, how much will they keep in their safety vaults.”

I: “God, I am lucky to know and understand this. Will the government?”

The Voice: “I told you, I am Supreme and there lies all the fact. What will anyone be able to do with money when it will be in surplus and will become obsolete.”

I: “I do not know. I am humble person who just want to live life respectably.”

The Voice.”This is my divine play. Day will come when gold will lose its appeal. In exchange of gold, one will not get food or clothes or shelter. Everyone will still be made to do business but of grains or clothes or any article. With or without me, choose your way.”

1.       This incident is fictional.
2.       The main topic “17 kg gold stolen from India’s richest Sree Padmanabhaswamy Temple vault” is neither a political cause nor seems religious to the author. It is more pertinently related to the society.
3.       The existence of God though may be suggested as illusory but there is no denying fact in the stories (many true) where these incidents can also reflect a religious or divine experience. The existence of God is a fact according to the author.
4.       Literature and many other fields often depict certain dogmas in creative manner to achieve a purpose. Sometimes, the idea hangs in universe making it one of the rat race where it is not always possible to achieve the objective.


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Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.

A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

नदी के किनारे

एक  पत्थर  भी अगर पानी पर मारो
तो आवाज  होती हैं
पत्थर  मारना  कोई गलती नहीं होती
नदी के छोर  अक्सर तह  होते हैं
मगर पानी के बहाव सा कैसे बहे

कैसे उसकी लहारो में लेहरती  किरणो को पिरोयू
कैसे उसकी गहराहीयो को पहचानु
कैसे ना डरू उसके बहाव से
लगातार छुट्ते किनारे इस आज़ादी से

कभी आवनमना ना करना यही सिखा है
मगर जब संगीत बन जाता है
उस पार जाती हुई ये नदी
तो क्या मै केवल एक क्षण बन कर रह जाऊ
उसके किनारो पर|