Wordplay: The Reading Spot

"The greatest victory is that which requires no battle." - Sun Tzu This part of the forest is Much too quiet tonight To the majestic old noctuid, though, clinging on to life, It's no new sight. It rests near a pinecone, on a tall tree branch As usual, and waits for its Instincts to drive it to Claim morsels that may fit. Below its branch,  Moonlight glinting in its eyes, A young wild rat emerges from the bushes and Out of hunger, sighs. The pinecone quickly senses  Something off, however, And truly so, because it sees, staring back, A pair of red eyes quiver. The wild rat makes its way over A carelessly thrown matchbox  In dry litter, and slowly and steadily Up the tree, to the scared pinecone it walks. He triumphantly places his grown nails on The ill fated pinecone, but just over it He sees that, quite to his pleasure A little beyond him, an old moth patiently sits. Greed manifests  As he drools onto his paws, And he decides to spare the pinecone; He gently lets it...

"I made you something special..." Woken by the Feast day sun Its scorching warmth of joy Matches our happy beaks As we move towards the field. Master has set a lovely banquet Studded with seeds and delicious "pests" We don't know how to thank Master, but We rush to relish, instead. In between gorging sessions I glance at the younglings And my friends  And smile at their smiles "How delicious!", ones' said "A feast for sure!", said another's A few hours hence, Master joins us and Adds to the shine with a staff that glitters; Its gleaming silver matches The harvested rain. I'd stare at it longer, but Master ushers us out Into his chariot's carts  We barely fit, but Master  Isn't frowning, so we don't complain. An hour later Master stops the chariot And leads us into smaller carts On a moving belt. It's been a fun ride so far But Master wishes to make it better! We oblige and settle into the carts Which begin moving; ...

“The world is a tragedy to those who feel, but a comedy to those who think.”  – Horace Walpole Positivity is the wrong perspective. Ignore the ones who say You can always improve and cling on to hope Dwell in the realms of guilt Since it makes no sense to Make the most of your present Sulk in the dark Since it's pointless to Focus on the light Value yourself little You have no reason to Let go of your self-doubt You're worthless, and just a burden Yet, you often assume that You have so much potential You're running out of time So there is no reason to think that There is much life yet to live You've reached the end So don't think that A lifetime is at your disposal A dark fate awaits you So don't think that  Positivity is the correct perspective. [ Now read the lines from the bottom to the top (i.e.-read the poem backwards)... ] -Armaan Kothare *** Vantage (noun)- a perspective, or a position from which you watch something...

bee "Why do you stop, why do you stall?" The young professor asked them all "To stall is to break away from The treasures that await y'all" "Instead say, "I shall begin now; And make progress right away!" "Focus on one task, do one alone Lest the burden cause you to groan; And as long as your day's work is undone You shan't dream to dream of fun Let alone pass out, fight the drowse  Act like you own your house" (He left the audience enthralled and vanished)...on returning home The professor resolved to do his chores But alas! There were one too many; He had to call his mum, and then his dad Then get ready for his late night bath; Then make his bed, and read a book Then give the old paper a little look. And then, and only then would he Dream to dream of being sunny- But shhh, dare you say a word! For just after his usual snack, The professor has already hit the sack. -Armaan Kothare ** Summary- an ode to procrastination, humanity...

the flight to Neverland... On a cold and rainy October night The pilot made haste for flight To his origin, ("Neverland", he said) And then soared into the night. It had been several years since The pilot left Neverland And although he seemed to move on The townspeople deemed him sad. He never spoke much about the place, Yet would often dream about His youthful years in its greens And the liveliest folk he'd never seen. His dreams gave off hues of grief But nought gave off his face, Whenever the young man would be asked On cue, his heart would race. He didn't have the brightest years Back in those spritely greens He lost more than since, has gained, And yet, there, he longs to be. A little while after his ascent, that day There came a rapping from behind When he ventured to see, who the causer was, Was appalled to see a mere child. A tousled boy he was, and nothing more; The astonished lent him a hand The pilot asked, "So, where to?" The boy softly said, ...

Pressing the little circle, the screen lit up And displayed what tech had borne; Entering the website's 'trending' section Duly kept me yearning for more. Little rectangles covered the screen Each full of colours, red, blue, green; And every little rectangle, every day Held ideas never before seen. That was how my routine began The fireplace with pieces to remember, Talent flourished, and quiet without To behold creative embers. But then the flames faded away The genius fireplace now reduced to coal, All us watchers, just us remained Sitting in quiet, alone. Now every rectangle looks the same, all grey Futile right down to the core Yearning for some sights anew Full of life as before. Now, tired of looking for brand new feats, And weary of watching them roast I turn off the screen, and in the glass My reflection shows me what matters the most. -Armaan Kothare

I lay back in my chair Watching the seconds tick by, Don't know how much longer I'll wait But I'll do it without a sigh. The tea is already cold The careman's stopped asking 'why'; My schedule has known no chores I just plan on getting by. I think of all the different things I could undertake to pass time, But I know now, there's no point in them Money now earnt is nought but futile. It wasn't always quite like this Life had much more smiles, Mostly mine, but some my son's It's true! Trust this rhyme. We'd talk each day, and all day long He'd share his days with me and Mom But as time ran on, we edged away Buried in our own days, all day long. Things escalated as the world moved on A lot less smiles, each with their share of wrongs Playing and singin' songs are mere memories, Ones I find hard to recall. One fine day, we ended up on a plane Young sonny's wife said he'd booked a place "Mom and Dad's Weekend Getaway...

One man's loss is another's gain... Up and above where we couldn't see Lay a whole world of opportunity; When down on the land, we feared the end of time In pride and glory lived the ones of the skies. These fair spirits lived simple lives Lives so fair, they didn't ever die They ignored us, and ignorance is bliss And that's how they missed our petty conflicts. Yet one day, all of this changed A young and pure spirit glanced down at our pains She proposed to others to intervene And help us fix the flaws she'd seen. The clouds were divided by the saw of opinion Some chose the spirit, others chose their pride The others saw us for what our acts were And chose to let us little sinners die. The sky erupted in a storm of chaos And darkened with the essence of negative thought Due to disagreements, the spirits became us And so, a violent path, in vain, was sought. Along with peace, hope was shed that day Who won the fight? Not one can say; But as their blood poured do...

Rest in peace, Ms. Lata Mangeshkar (1929-2022) I still remember that day When I was new to this town Nobody got out of their way Nay, didn't even show me 'round. The town's people were a quaint folk Did nought but incessant work And the only signs of esprit were  The Nightingale and these trees of birch. The Nightingale, o, what a divine soul! Seemed as though she channeled light Her sweet and melodious harmonies, They'd drown away the blues of the nights. Each night I returned to my home Exhausted, drained and in a sulk, The only soul out there for me Was that little bird in the tree pulp. Whenever I wandered through The darkest alleys of my mind, The soft voice of the Nightingale  Would help me leave the past behind. It had been o'er a few decades since She'd been singing songs for me But good things must leave you once, As when I returned one day,  She was nowhere to be seen... It had the voice of an angel Had returned to where angels belong, "But, true ...

The darkness gives light meaning... My hands drenched in blood And my feet all pale and sore, Because of me, tonight A soul lay dead and no more. I think about how it happened About how I'd scarred his head, About how a little girl's father now In the freezing snow, lay dead. He'd tried to move after the stab, Told me to get him help, But I paid his request no heed "It's for the greater good",  I said. At least the man was now set free His soul was free to roam, But I can't trudge back to my place Since my house isn't my home. I cover my mouth, let out muffled screams, Tears forming in my eyes, Never listened to all of them before, But now my actions, I criticize. I collapse into the snow The knife heavy in my coat, The man who I murdered today Didn't he deserve a cut throat? Yet, I scream in agony, Unable to forgive myself What's been done can't be thrown away, Or buried behind the shelves. The knife looks sharper to me, Sparkling with a d...

He walks past you with a smile each day And when he passes you, he waves; And you too, wave back at him You say, "He's a happy man on a happy day". Why wouldn't he be happy though? On the outside he does smile; But its not that simple, my dear friend, The human sense is fragile. You saw his face, yes, he was smiling But did you look deep inside? Do you see those implying eyes? Yes, on the inside, he cries. He yearns for help but doesn't speak And conceals this with a smile, Wishes to keep his sadness hidden Until in his will's file. If in his eyes you glanced, you'd see The extent of the consuming darkness It pierces him, it suffocates him, Until his mind's a terrible mess. All these battles he fights everyday, But doesn't shed a tear, he'll lie, For when they'll ask him about his state He'll simply say, "I'm fine". Hence, before judging someone else Just know that they too have a life, And who knows? While they're wor...

[Extra-post, theme interval] When you're in need of help  Or you're feeling low, Who'll give thy an ear Or shield you from your foes? When you're stuck in a mess And need a way out, Who's going to come through And put trouble to rout. True, it is your friend; He'll help whenever, you're in need And he'll do so without Expecting a prize for his deed. This is a true friend And she'll be with you throughout, Despite the clouds in your life She'll be the light ray striking out. So happy friendship day, dear friends! Ya'll have been pretty great; Now that I've finished wishing you, I guess I'll patiently wait. -Armaan Kothare

[Extra post, theme-interval] I was once just a common man, Who wanted to become a lawyer, true; But today I tread down another path, Still a man, but my role is new. Today, my people are gathered around me All of them energetic and free, However, just a few days ago Mere freedom they would seek. We were ruled upon by an invader And we weren't treated well, And living in this place was like Living in worse than hell. People were miserable  And wanted a change soon For everyone had had enough  Of dancing to this evil's tune. So, I stood up and called out to My people and my friends, I guided them all through the way And we drove out the fiends. On this day my people stay Surrounding me with roses And on this day I felt more blest Than even Him, the holy Moses. I acknowledge each blessing with A smile across my face,  But out of all the friendly faces One held a gun, raised. I felt the bullets pierce my chest But they didn't hurt as much  As compared to what feeling I h...

Let me introduce you to this family of three, Mr. Michael, Mrs. Jenny and their son, Sammy; It was a normal September evening Where one event would change everything. The family was quite busy that evening Both Michael and Jenny were working While Sammy was using his creativity, To make a card for his parents' anniversary. The next day would be a celebration Many plans would be set in motion Michael and Jenny'd celebrate five years Of happiness, and they'd be happier. Young Sammy just could not resist Waiting for the party to give his gift To his happy parents the next day, But had to wait patiently anyway. It was a silent dinner that night For everyone was waiting for the next light They grew impatient each hour But knew that the day wasn't far. A few seconds before the clock struck twelve A strange noise grew loud, and the sky turned red All wondered whether they were still sane But that's when it began, the "Bombing Rain". Mr. Michael ran out to the lif...

A poem on the pandemic... ( Image: this is supposedly a symbol of positivity) Do you remember the days when all kids begged For no school for a week, and a vacation instead? Do you remember yearning for rest at home And laying back, forgetting that colleague's tone? Do you remember when a holiday was all you wanted, And photos of travels and trips were flaunted? Well, its sad, and sadly true Times have changed, and no one knew That their lives would change so much, in a way That would make every day a holiday. But this change, too, had a twist The outside world, now fear has kissed. There are people crying everywhere, They feel helpless, drowning in despair Loved ones lost, to an enemy unseen But waiting, enveloping everywhere we've been. A virus has cost us these lives and souls Leaving us shaken by the events that unfold. A child, young, and new to the world Was ready to play, and happily learn The new topics his mother decided to teach him,  But that's when the news hit ...

Very often, you'll hear them say Animals are wild creatures that prey Who don't have minds, who don't have brains They'll attack and hurt you anyway. These speakers are humans, no doubt Who speak, act and even shout Who claim that man is an intelligent being And think the world is blind in seeing Just what lies are being told About the events that unfold. There was a story in the news one day A man was bitten by a stray 'What a wild dog that was", the man would say These animals really miss cells in grey. But what the world oversees In this poem, I will reveal You think it's mild, but it is not "Who is the real villain", have you ever thought? Well, I hate to break it to thee But look in the mirror, and you will see. Once a man was too loud "Please lower the volume", he found A man saying, from behind This angered the man's uncontrolled mind. What happened next will shock you In the man's eyes you could see a reddish hue He clenc...

A poem written on the Covid-19 pandemic... Break Through the Net Hard times have come by Where all have to stay inside, But fear not, as this won't be for long It will pass just as quick, if we all stand strong. But until then we all must stay At home, be it night or day For if you  do catch this disease Your pleasant life will momentarily cease. This virus is a terrible pest It makes each person a victim, a nest But it affects only people who Don't wear a mask, even though they're told to. Your family's fate depends on what you do Embrace the virus, or shield your family and you For if you want to save your kin Let's start with the steps to win. Step one, wear a mask at all times As all outside particles are infected mines And don't leave your home unless The necessities at home are really less. Step two, maintain your distance With everyone, even your family, for instance This will keep you out of reach Of the particles causing Covid-19. Step three, wash your...

               There was once a man who was grim Who decided to go for a swim,  He stepped into the pool,  But he was a fool,   For he didn't know how to swim! 

They're calling you.... A Jog Through The Woods I put on my shoes, got out of the house Any later I wouldn’t move Closed the door and saw the scurrying mouse Scuttling over to the woods. I made my way into the coverts Went past through the fog I was busy that rainy night But just had time for a jog. I ventured deeper through the woods, Would have run if I could When I heard a quaint voice call, “Turn back, you really should.” I stopped jogging, turned around But, saw no one at all All these days when I’d ever jogged I’d never heard a call. I was in two minds whether to continue Or to go back home Had a lot of work to do  So, I turned back for home. Heard lotta voices on the way, They echoed off the logs of wood Whose cries they were, I still don't know, I’d heard on my jog through the woods.