Mr. And Mrs. Mouse - A Poem

 

Mr. Mouse married Miss Mouse. He brought her to his house; to lead a “happy” life, with his beautiful wife .... Read how their marriage progresses ...

Mr. And Mrs. Mouse

Mr. Mouse married Miss Mouse.

He brought her to his house;

To lead a “happy” life

With his beautiful wife.

Mr. Mouse was rather lazy.

After marriage, he also became crazy.

First, Mrs. Mouse enjoyed the favour,

Then, she lost her temper.

One morning, she began to shout,

“Mend your ways or get out ….”

Poor, dear Mr. Mouse !

He had to leave his house.

Mr. Mouse began to earn for a living,

He, also, became hard-working.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Mouse was in trouble.

Life, to her, was a lonely struggle.

One day, when she slept quietly,

A cat crept in swiftly.

The watchman Dog came just then,

Seeing him, away the cat ran.

Mrs. Mouse felt sad and scared,

“Oh ! Can these miseries not be ended ?”

She dressed herself and went to Mr. Mouse

To bring him back to ‘his’ house.

She felt sorry for being impertinent,

And made up her mind to be loving and patient.

Mr. Mouse came back, gladly,

For, he had also suffered badly.

- Vanita Thakkar (written sometime in the first half of 1984)

Memories about this poem ....

My friend, Shipra Mathur and I, were classmates and bench-mates, studying in seventh standard (seventh grade) in the Central School (Kendriya Vidyalaya - 1 (K V - 1), Vadodara).

My passion for reading and writing was known. Shipra wanted to see me write a poem. I agreed. We sat down and I started writing.

During those days, in our English lessons, we were studying the nonsense poem - The Owl and the Pussy Cat, by Edward Lear.

So, I thought of writing a nonsense poem. And this poem - Mr. and Mrs. Mouse - is what came up. We laughed and laughed as I wrote the poem.

Shipra loved the poem. She took it home and made her little brother memorize it. He recited it at an upcoming poetry recitation competition at his school and won the first prize.

That was great joy for all of us !!

 

© 2021 Vanita Thakkar

Picnic - A Poem - Revisiting and Reliving Joys and Memories of Picnic(s) ....

Picnics are fun times. Here are the memories of a little girl remembering the fun and joys of picnic ....

PICNIC

We went for a picnic

To a lovely, calm place,

A charming river flowing

Near by with grace.

Standing in queues

Long, thin trees.

Donor, little flowers

Surrounded by bees.

Cool and calm river water

Moving ahead slowly,

As if saying, “Go ahead !

As I stroll merrily!”

We play and enjoyed

And had snacks and sweets !

Hours passed by

As if they were minutes !

Round and red Sun

Hiding in the horizon.

Now, it was the time

For farewell to be bidden.

- Vanita Thakkar (10.01.1984)

I had written this poem as a little girl, passing my time, while travelling in a train ....

As I wrote this poem, most probably, I was remembering the picnics that we went for during our more than five years of stay in Assam till 1982.

One of our choicest destination was the village Jogighopa on banks of the mighty River Brahmaputra.

Bhutan was about 65 km from where we stayed. Weekend trips to the beautiful hills and towns in the nearby Galephu / Gelegphu region were very common.

The joys of roaming around in green wilderness, playing, singing and dancing in the shades of huge trees and enjoying the delicious delicacies we used to carry from home were vivid in memories ....

There were some other scenic locations as well, in nearby hills, which were called the Bagheshwari Hills or the Bagha Hills.

Some tea gardens were also there near the BRPL Township in Bongaigaon, Assam where we resided.

There was a well-knit group of neighbour families from different locations all over India - like, those from Gujarat, Maharashtra, Tamil Nadu, Rajasthan, Andhra Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh .... staying together in the township. Far away from our home states, we used to often have such fun-filled weekend outings together.

Memories of Acquaintance with an elderly Sindhi Brother-Sister Duo travelling with us during a train journey ....

It was January, 1984. We were travelling by train from Vishakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh to our home town Vadodara, in Gujarat. My brother and I were both school-going kids. We had to go from Vishakhapatnam to Mumbai, which takes about 30 hours and from Mumbai to Vadodara, which takes an overnight journey.

At Secunderabad, we were joined in our compartment by a gentleman and a lady, who we got know were siblings. The gentleman was elder. He must have been in his late fifties and his sister looked a couple of years younger to him. As it sometimes happens during train journeys, we co-passengers got introduced and little chats began. They were Sindhi by birth, residing in Hyderabad and were going to Pune.

Train journeys, for us kids, mainly meant sitting by the window, enjoying the swiftly moving beautiful views, and reading the books that we would get every time we undertook a train journey. We usually had long train journeys, so we got at least two books each per journey to keep ourselves busy and happy. We read in turns and were eager to finish reading them fast so that we could ask for more ....

I loved writing as well and during that journey I had penned this poem - Picnic. I showed it to my father and then to our co-passengers. Both were very happy, appreciating and encouraging me to keep writing ....

My brother has always been jovial and witty and like most brothers, he enjoyed teasing me. I was cute and talkative, as little girls are. The quips and counter-quips between my brother and me kept our little company amused.

We came to know that the elderly siblings were going to Pune to attend the funeral of their another sibling. They were both dressed in an indicative white attire and the lady had a teary, sad look in her bespectacled eyes, even as she lovingly smiled during our conversations - a smile that I still remember.

The more than twelve hours journey from Secunderabad to Pune got filled with fond affection of our co-passengers for us kids and friendly conversations between the elders. The elderly gentleman, as they were about to reach Pune, asked me to give him my notebook. He wrote a verse addressing my brother in it, which I still remember, even though my notebook got misplaced and is probably lost now, after so many years of handling between different places we stayed at. It said -

"Good boys love their sisters

And so good have they grown,

That they love other's sister

And forget their own !!" ....

Fond memories !!

Was published on HubPages on 27th September, 2021 

© 2021 Vanita Thakkar 

The Sculptor - A Poem

 

 

The Sculptor

A sigh of grief slipped out

As he got the blow;

The Sculptor too was moved

And tears began to flow.

But, tenderness was to be checked

For, the piece He was to create

Would otherwise remain incomplete;

So, he went on, contained and sedate.

Don’t you lament, oh statue !

For, the hard blows you are getting

Are to teach you to endure

And to carve your being.

Pleasing hue to be loved by all

Is the gift of these hardships.

So, try to bear the woe

With a smile on your lips.

- Vanita Thakkar (23.07.1988)

This is one of my old poems, written in school days. I had written this poem when my English class was going on. My friend sitting next to me was anxious that I would get caught. Fortunately, I wrote it without getting caught and both - my friend and I, were happy.

 

© 1988Vanita Thakkar

The World Beyond - A Poem On The Journey Within ....

 

A Glimpse of the Inner World ....

From Ocean of Tears and Storm of Sighs, Furnace of Fury and Active Volcano of Memories in Desert of Harsh Realities ....

The World Beyond

In the endless void inside me,

There is an ocean of tears

And a storm of sighs

Which carries unexpressed pain –

Borrowed as well as my own ........

There is a furnace of fury,

The fire inside which,

Catalyzed by the soaring storm

Can burn the whole world

If set free ......

And there is an active volcano of memories

In a desert of harsh realities,

Beyond which is my land of Rainbows –

Full of Love and Life.

- Vanita Thakkar (23.05.2003)

This poem was published in HubPages in response to a word prompt, and this is how it was described ....

This is another poem that is relevant to the word prompt on "Rainbows" given by our dear friend, a wonderful writer and poetess, Brenda Arledge ....

© 2003 Vanita Thakkar

Tippy-Tappy Rains!! - a Poem on the Joys as Well as Challenges Rains Bring

 

The first rains of this season captured on my mobile camera at Kensville Golf Resort, Ahmedabad .... Vanita Thakkar (19th June, 2022)

Rains enchant us, cool us, soothe us and elevate our spirits. But, rains are a survival challenge for the needy and homeless. Also, heavy rains and floods cause destruction, rendering hundreds of people homeless and starving …. Here are memories of rains that bring ecstasy as well as concerns ….

 

Tippy-Tappy Rains!!

Rat-tat rattling raindrops, trumpet on windowpanes,

Flutter-keys to untapped ecstasy, tippy-tappy rains !!

Showering, soothing coolness, embraces summery swirls,

Blossoming, blooming happiness within, quivers and unfurls,

On a study sleep-over, I was at a friend’s place,

Those early hurly college days of tippy-tappy rains !!

The sound of rumbling clouds or God’s chariot wheels ?

The flashes of lightning or flashes of His camera reels ?

Wonder-struck, I gazed outside at the lonely flooding lanes,

Amid silent hummings of heart and tippy-tappy rains !!

A terrifying thunder crashed and blinding lightning flashed,

And suddenly I sensed safety cloaks of shelter and realized,

The pains of those deprived souls, foodless and homeless,

Please, please be kind to them always, oh tippy-tappy rains !!

Rat-tat rattling raindrops, trumpet on windowpanes,

Flutter-keys to untapped ecstasy, tippy-tappy rains !!

Do be kind to the needy, homeless, oh tippy-tappy rains !!

 

Vanita Thakkar (15-16 July, 2022)

I wrote this poem for recital at an annual programme titled Megh Gunjan, organized by the Vadodara based literary organization Grantha Goshthhee this year on 16th July. This programme celebrates rain / rainy season and all poems presented in it are on rain / rainy season.

This year, 34 poets presented their rain(y) poems in Sanskrit, Gujarat, Hindi, Marathi, Urdu and Bengali.

Another snap of the rains at Kensville Resort, Ahmedabad .... Vanita Thakkar (19th June, 2022)

Pouring profusion .... Vanita Thakkar (19th June, 2022)

The peacocks were out to greet the arriving rains .... Vanita Thakkar (19th June, 2022)

Background ….

The poem narrates an incident which took place on a very beautiful rainy evening during my first year in college as a student of Mechanical Engineering. I was at a friend’s place on a study sleepover. Both of us were finishing up our assignments for submissions.

The atmosphere was most serene and pleasant. Suddenly, the cracking noise of heavy thunders and lightning made me realize the safety we enjoy in being indoors during challenging weather conditions. At the same time, I sensed the plight of thousands of underprivileged homeless people who may not even get proper food in such weather conditions ….

Also, heavy rains cause floods which render hundreds of people homeless and helpless, struggling for survival.

Even this year, as I wrote this poem, the television news broadcasts were flooded with the news of floods in various parts of India, including my home state Gujarat. While rains are most welcome and necessary, the destruction that occurs when they go out of control and the helplessness of the poor affected lives - human as well as all other forms - is heartrending.

There is an appeal to the rains, in the poem, to be gentle and kind - especially to the needy, homeless and helpless lives.