Ad Majorem *Mater* Gloriam

To have me, she willed to bleed.

I ne'er pay her words much heed,

Yet, she is *the One* I shall always need!

The first face to grace my eyes,

She answered all my infant cries,

She has filled my life with many a sweet surprise.

She taught me how to stand and walk,

She helped turn my incomprehensible babble to talk,

She made me listen to the tick-tock clock.

She made me aware of voice and sound,

She placed my wobbly feet firmly on the ground,

And I feel so safe when she is around.

She taught me what was wrong and right,

She would supervise my lessons with all her might,

She sought to prevent me from many a fight.

So how can I ever cease to be

Affectionate and kind to Thee,

O Thou, who art *a Mother* to me!

(An afterword - to Mother Nature)

Despite our imbecile, insolent greed,

She continues to nurture us and feed.

And what does humanity do? Happily gorge and breed.

- - -

Mother's Day greetings to Mothers everywhere! 
Ad majorem Mater gloriam.

A flower in the wind

There was a flower, the wind once knew,

That spread the fragrance of love.

With her around, time - but rapidly - flew,

For she was a gift, from above.

There was a flower, the wind once knew,

Vibrantly bright, yet plain.

Dissipating freshness and happiness anew,

She smelled of the Earth-drenching rain.

There was a flower, the wind once knew,

Distinctly apart from the rest!

His liking for her but immensely grew,

Ah! How cruel Fate doth jest!

She left without notice; no trace or clue,

The time he wish'd for, ne'er came.

There was a flower, the wind once knew,

Alas, he would ne'er know her name.

---

An ode, A promise...

Momentary bliss with you 'round,

Nature - you are beauty profound!

Soulful colours, your own splendour,

Sights to behold - "How!?", I wonder...

Nature - you are beauty profound!

With curves, certified to astound;

A grand feast for those truly bless't,

How enchantingly art thou drest!

Soulful colours, your own splendour,

Blinding rage, tears you asunder!

The rising tide, the spewing flame,

Ne'er shall you be the human's game!

Sights to behold - "How!?", I wonder...

Beseech thee - pardon our blunder.

One Earth, we inhabit and share,

We promise, O Gaea - we care.

---

Notice something different..? 

That was my first attempt at a style known as the retourne. Like so many other French forms, the retourne (from the French word, retourner - to return) is all about repetition. 

A retourne is comprised of four quatrains (four-line stanzas), and each line has eight syllables. The pattern goes like this - the second line of the first stanza must be the first line of the second stanza. The third line of the first stanza should be the first line of the third stanza. Likewise, the fourth line of the first stanza must be the first line of the fourth stanza.

Retournes need not rhyme. But considering my penchant for rhymes, I ensured this one did. :)

Gaia's Indignation

Tearing away in cellular bloom,

An emergence from maternal womb.

Crying and crying, whilst she bled and cringed,

A new life wriggled...

Laws of avarice would not be infringed.

And as you grew - you cried and craved;

All of Nature, you decreed, enslaved.

Guns to grenades - your designed assault;

While Gaia, but writhed...

Her creation had come from a bottomless vault.

Tartarus opened! It all spells doom!

Divinity devoured by unholy gloom...

Unimaginable chaos from creatures unseen!

Most holy Mother! Save us!

May thy Holy rapier smite the unclean.

Yes, she does, with a wave of her might!

Nature's fury overcomes the slightest of blight.

And so, "life" returns to it's womb...

As flesh and bone and ash and dust,

To the eerie warmth of a stone-cold tomb.

---

Just a gentle reminder... Do not play with Nature. The moment She decides to set things right, brace yourself for a pretty bumpy ride.

Unforgiving Africa

Wild Africa has never ceased to amaze me. The first time I came across the word ‘Serengeti ’, I was a fifth standard student- on a visit to Science City, Kolkata (erstwhile Calcutta). There has been no looking back since. I guess I have watched all related documentaries broadcasted by NGC/Discovery thus far! J 

The sun was beating down… The land was parched and vegetation was scarce. It was one of those horrid African summers in the Serengeti. And a typical day in the lives of those who inhabited the land- long, searing and unforgiving. Long- for, that’s how it would seem. Searing- for obvious reasons, the relentless sun. Enfin, unforgiving- because if you cannot survive, you won’t. Simple. Period. This held true irrespective of the hunter and the hunted.

Didja Laddé was old. She needed her rest, and was desperate for some shade- the only respite from, what would otherwise be a cauldron. Her name translates to ‘Lady of the Jungle’. And she was a paradigm of the great feline- for she had been bestowed with such features. Awe, beauty, care and strength morphed into her with such enviable ease. She was indeed a phenomenon in that brute of a land she was born into. She was the Lady of the Serengeti…

In her prime, she had no competitor among her sisters. She had won many a battle. Wildebeests, zebras et al could testify. Just that, cadavers cannot render any testimony. And her mate was no less in splendor. He was one of the finest males the land had seen. But he was lazy… It was her responsibility, along with her sisters, to feed the pride. And he would help in bringing down the odd buffalo. Of course, biological compatibility was always there. Didja Laddé mothered many a cub and the pride swelled in number.

Ah, the glorious past… Her mate had succumbed to age. And now, she was alone. Well past her prime, she had taken violently ill. The pride had abandoned her. Didja Laddé found some cessation in the form of an old, lone tree. She rested, periodically shaking her head to drive away those tormenting flies… She looked up. The moon was a faint disc. Very faint. It was early afternoon… The giggle of hyenas could be heard in the distance as they ate into an unfortunate wildebeest. Ugh! She loathed them hyenas. Those snarling, snickering thieves… What do they know about pugilism? Hyenas and lions never get along. May be Lion King was a momentary exception… But of course Didja Laddé would never accept that, leave alone knowing about it!

She had survived thus far… However cruel the ambiance was. She had been a fighter all her life. She matched whatever Nature had to throw… It was not for nothing that she was named Didja Laddé by those who had been following her life in Africa’s ecosystem that is known to play host to the world’s largest and longest overland migration.

It was evening. Soon enough, another clan of hyenas closed in on where she was… May be they were old enemies. Familiar, rather. Didja Laddé could sense an odd familiarity about them. She had been successful in protecting her kill from them on earlier occasions. But that evening, there was no kill she was protecting. But then, why were they there..? The foursome… Surrounding her… Snarling… Eerie giggles filling up the environment.

The old lady roared from where she was resting… But it was no longer the authoritative roar of a queen. It was more of a warning to ward off those foul-mouthed interlopers. She could sense the imminent danger. Escapism, however, was not known to her. She would fight to the very end. The retractable claws were ready… The Clan could smell weakness. They could smell blood. Royal blood… Revelling in royal blood was no mean feat to them. The hunter was soon to be the hunted.

The quartet closed in… Teeth gnarling, mouths salivating. You could see all the eyes glimmering in the darkness that was setting in. Didja Laddé was ready… With a leap mighty enough for her age, she took out one of her attackers. Her jaws had not betrayed her. Her canines buried into her smaller adversary’s spine…

But her overall agility was nowhere as efficient as it had been before. Indeed, age does have a lot to say. She failed to swerve away from her other assailants. Her strength was suddenly failing her. Illness was having a say too. Nature is cruel. Even the mighty have to fall, and in the end- she went; her weak growls drowned in the moonlit darkness amidst ghoulish laughs. Hyenas are known to eat away at live prey… Jaws that can crack bone as if it were a twig…

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Am back after a hiatus. And well, am off again. I tell you- training is such a pain in the posterior! Sorry for not having visited any blog page for the past two weeks. I will do so, very very soon. A couple of certification examinations are around the corner and loads of assessments (to add to the 80-odd I have already given since August 21^st). Well, I guess that’s a rant for later. Au revoir…

My family and I extend our hearty Diwali greetings to all of you. Peace, take care and blessed be.