Why do I write poetry?

Poetry

My younger sister asked me, "Neel, why do people write poems?" LOL . After a pause I said, " Because they like to. Can you ask someone why do you sing songs or do art-work?. "So it is a time pass , hobby is it?" She asked further. I said " Yes" and finished the conversation before she ask me more dumbfounding questions. LOL

Actually it makes sense what she asked. I did tell her that people read novels and stories. There are very few poetry lovers. Then why are we stillwriting poetry. Are we manufacturing a product which is outdated ? Or are we making a luxury product that only few intellectuals can afford 'cause the lay man doesn't understand poetry.

When I tell people I write poems and ask them to read, they say "O its too complicated" and "I am not a literature person" etc. Even the ones who read bestseller novels tell me that. Is poetry only meant for school curriculum like a musuem antique piece to be studied before it gets extinct?

There are lot of myths around it actually. Poetry is not only about Shakespearen sonnets which are complicated; I agree. But also those beautifuls songs you listen are a form of poetry. Most lyrical poems can be actually sung. Poetry is and will always exist. Those shayaris you read are poetry of course. And the few lines you see in Greeting cards are poetry.

Poetry is a beautiful way of telling the bitter truth and also the greatest lines by a lover. Poetry heals hearts.

So Join me on this page and lets take sips of poetry .

How to write a poem?

I have few interesting tips
For wanna be poets so that,
Writing will be easy as coffee sips
And poetry will be your thinking hat.

First dont hold a pen and sit all day.
Just be focused on your chores.
Thoughts will come your way.
Words will flow with great force.

Express your thoughts in leisure,
Till then focus on your duty.
Perfection ll come for sure.
Express not necessarily in poetry.

Then when you jot down
In scribbled rough sheet,
Transform into verbs and noun
With a title, it is complete.

Make sure post on fb and share.
So that we read your poem
'Cause we are friends who care.
We are like you same to same.

©nikithahingad

Dream Lover

Dream lover
(my first love poem written in 2006 during my hindi class :P)

From a distance, you look like a happy man who leads the world and when you get depressed , you look like a small kid throwing tantrum.

Then I feel like pulling your cheeks and planting a kiss on them and moving my fingers on your hair.

But when you come closer to me I feel as though I mighty ruler has come to conquer me.

And when I look into your eyes, I see a friendly exciting glitter and on that the precious smile which leaves me stunned for a while

And when you greet me , sometimes when you salute me gallantly

You leave me speechless...

Your voice makes me jump on my seat! ans sometime I feel like embracing you.

I imagined I waas in your arms , I smelt your cologne and felt an enigmatic ecstacy.

I felt something roared within me and at the same time felt relieved , oblivious about the world around me.

Your touch first strange but later warm and comfortable.
Your arms are for my body to rest. Your heart is where I like to live.

i wish I could dream this dream throughtout my life. But I know, one day I have to wake up and come back to reality !!!

copyrights reserved nikitha hingad

From the book of love and wisdom

Philia and Sophia

Nikitha Hingad
Poetess Nikitha Hingad

Review of Diary Of The Heart: Little Red Book by Watkins

I was given a free copy of Diary of the heart: The Little Red Book for a fair and honest review. Poetry is very subjective and is a difficult task to review because each person has his/her own taste. I read lot of poems on the internet and I am not a harsh critic cause like I said before Poetry is an art form and everyone has their own tastes. 
In the beginning the author says – I write for me and only me. And He says unlike his previous books he chose not to cut out and so almost all his bare thoughts are revealed here. He chooses to expose his vulnerabilities in public eye which is rarely seen. So, whoever is prepared to be touched the intimate way and is interested in reading bare emotions of a stranger’s diary should go for it. The rest of us wouldn’t relate to him. 
So the Diary of the heart is just like the title, the book is designed like a diary and the book cover is a plain red background. It’s like a personal diary of author describing his emotional journey from 2014-15. In fact the title of poems are itself just dates (I didn’t like that as for a reader dates are just numbers and of no use to us).
Though the Author is from UK chooses simple lay man’s language to express his emotions. He neither uses rhymes nor heavy jargons. I think the author has underplayed his writing skills perhaps to reach the masses. He uses lyrical forms in some of his poems and I like that. But in the poem “Ends of the Earth” I wish he added the chorus “Will follow you to the end of the earth for the last two paragraphs as well. 
Then there were one-sided-infatuation-poems which made me feel as though I am reading my stalkers diary. They were too intimidating and I simply didn’t like them. 
I liked poems like Negativity, Small building block, the path, be the first for inspiring me. Poems like memories, M U 2 and Christmas Love were sweet. And treat me like a canvas, Insert name were creative. I like the truth bluntly said in the poem ‘Time’.
Some of his poems were so long and boring. His depressing lines were dragged too far. I just did not want to read any of it. It was like reading his depressing plain monologue with himself or his imaginary conversations with his lover. I just got bored and I was wishing it gets over soon. Short poems like “What did I say?’ were better than his long passages like “Surrender”. It is not that I do not listen to sad poems but I like metaphors to exaggerate pain. He uses simple language which doesn’t suit my taste. Some of the puritans and sonneteers wouldn’t even call them poem, would call them prose pretending to verse. He also doesn’t play with minds of reader, saying something and leaving the rest for the reader. He says it all. Some classic poetry lovers who like decoding and deciphering the hidden meaning of the poems may not like it. 
I like to conclude by saying that Mr Watkins is a good writer who can express emotions with minimum vocabulary. He is also lucky to have is mother to proofread for him. And for a self-published author that is a great boon. And she has done a great job Book trailer 

Review on Moustached-Poet-Few-Pots-Poems

I loved the book cover design and also the name of the book. I think it is very unique. I liked the fact that author dedicated the book to poetry lovers.

The poet writes in free style. He follows no fixed pattern like any modern poet. From the poem “Rains” I noticed he can rhyme well too but he doesn’t force or restricts himself.

 He sees poetry even in simple daily occurrences in life. He is a good observer. He writes poems on people and issues which we as a society tend to ignore. And I appreciate this quality in him. After all a true poets sees the unseen.

I found his poetry more like folk tales or regional language poets. If you read Kannada poet’s Kuvempu’s English, they are very similar to his poems. . After centuries if our future generations need to know about our culture and lifestyle, then this piece of literature would help them.

He describes a lot. He has satire poems written about stark realities of life. And also breaking stereotype like step mother and crow I liked the conclusion (poet’s words) added after a poem. It seems like the poem is a song and there is narration after. It gives a clear picture on what circumstance the poet has written these lines. It is easy for people who have minimum vocabulary or find it difficult to decipher poem’s true meaning.  To be honest I read some of his poems twice to understand them more deeply. His poems need to be read slowly and leisure.

 He expresses so gently about everyday emotions and I think everyone can connect with his poetry unlike what people usually think that poetry is not their cup of tea. He is a poet since eight he says and I see the way he writes. It shows how beautifully he expresses. And it seems like he has been reading poetry along with academics. I like rhythm in the poem Stubborn.  The poem my kite is as if child has written it.

The Moustached poet: few pots of poems are a good collection of poems giving glimpses of his life and various people around him.

Suggestions: I would prefer the poet divided poems into different segments. And also please write an Author’s note at the end of the book for your kind readers. I suggest the conclusion poet’s words are renamed as author’s note because poet’s word is the poem itself.

PS: I wonder as to why Mr Goswami doesn’t grow a moustache!

Available on Amazon

निराशा के बादलों  के बीच में आशा की एक किरण नज़र आती है।

कांटेदार शाखाओं की शीर्ष पर सुन्दर गुलाब खिलता है। 

काली काली रातों में चाँद अकेले ही चमकता है। 

चाहे दुनिया वाले  हो जाते खिलाफ  तुम्हारे ,

डरने की क्या है ज़रुरत विक्रम विजयी अकेले उठता है। 

Gajsukhmal

Gajsukhmal

Years after the evil Kans was killed by his nephew Krishna, the kingdom was at peace. Devki , mother of Krishna was waiting for her valour to arrive. When two twin monks asked for alms, she gave alms to them and went inside. When again the monks came back and asked for alms, she assumed they were too hungry. So she gave morsels this time. But she was agitated when they came back the third time. She told them "monks shouldn't be so greedy, why you come back again and again?"
The monks looked at them innocently and said "Mother we are six brothers, we all look the same. Our brothers might have come here before us. "

Queen Devki refused to believe them. So she followed them to their Teacher Lord Neminath. Lord Neminath being Thirthankara was Kevala Gyani ie aware of past present and future. 
He told Devki that these six monks were her own children who everyone presumed were killed by Kans.  Devki was in tears. Her maternal affection filled her bosom with milk. She couldn't show her love towards these monks. Devki was sad and depressed. 
Krishna was so busy with administration and warfares that he barely gave time to his mother. He came only once to meet her. So every time he came, his mother celebrated the annual event. But this time she was so sad. 
Krishna went to his mother's room and asked "Mother, aren't you well? Why have you not come to see me?"."Son, I am hale and hearty. But I am so ill fated. In spite of giving birth to seven sons, I couldn't feed my children, play and cuddle with them. You were brought up with Yashodha. And I just couldn't see you grow up. I wish I had a child whom I could raise" She said.

Krishna couldn't see her mother in depression. He went to forest and fasted three days and took great penance till Lord Indra, appeared. "O krishna, I am pleased by your penance. What do you seek?" Krishna asked for a younger brother so that his mother could raise him. Indra granted his wish but there was a condition. A child would be born to Devki but he would renounce worldly pleasures during his youth.

After a year, Devki gave birth to a son and named him Gajsukhmal. He was raised well by his mother. He grew up into a fine archer, young handsome man. Krishna was worried. He remembered the condition. What if he took Diksha and renounced the world and took path of monkhood? So Krishna decided to get him engaged.

Once Krishna's chariot's wheel got stuck and they halted near a Brahmin's house. There he saw Brahmin's daughter. She was epitome of beautiful woman. "She probably could lure back Gajsukhmal towards materialism", thought Krishna. He promptly went inside the Brahmin's hut. Seeing the King appearing, the Brahmin was perplexed. He said, " why did you take effort to come my humble hut?you should have called me. Did I do something wrong? "
Krishna asked his daughter's hand for Gajsukhmal. Being the king of the land, he couldn't be refused. So they agreed the time and date of marriage.

Lord Neminath was far off cousin of Krishna. He was near the city of Dwaraka. Inspired by his sermons, young Gajsukhmal renounced the world and took monkhood. He immediately went graveyard and stood still, closed eyes and meditated deeply.

Seeing his son in law, as a monk, the Brahmin was furious. His daughter wouldn't be married to anyone. He took charcoal and placed on the monk's head. Gajsukmal was calm and composed. He knew the reason of his father in law's act.

In previous birth, there were co-sisters. The elder co sister was jealous of younger one. One day the younger Co sister's son was ill. So she asked the elder one's advice. The elder one asked her to place hot chapati on the infant son's bald head. After doing so the infant died.

In this birth Gajsukhmal faced his previous birth's karma. In spite of the heat on his head by the burning charcoals, Gajsukhmal thought "How lucky I am my father in laws ties me a turban towards my salvation!" Thus Gajsukhmal forgives the brahmin and calmly attained liberation.

Copyrights Nikitha Hingad 2015 
Source: Jain scriptures

International Women's day

Today, the international women’s day is a day dedicated to all the women in our lives. Today’s woman is not only a daughter, a sister and a mother, but also a journalist, actress or an astronaut. Women have come a long way. Pat on our backs for our long list of our achievements. If our great-great-great grandmother would be alive, I wonder would she be in awe. Or would she say, “Well, you don’t have burden yourself, my girl” In past decade there was dynamic change in our economy which made every middle class woman aspiring to take a job and be independent. But in spite of our landing moon, are women able to secure themselves? Can she walk alone on this planet?

Now there comes the real issue -The safety of a woman. The famous Nirbhaya case was all over the media. Jyoti Singh, a 23 year old medical student was brutally gang raped. And the documentary made by Leslee Udwin who was also a rape victim is causing great debate in our parliament. Her interview with Mukesh Singh, one of the prime accuse, causing the ruckus. Mukesh Singh, the rapist has lack of remorse or regret in spite of being imprisoned. He clearly states that it was Jyoti’s fault to go out after 7pm. So he justifies his crime as he feels she wasn’t a decent girl. And if she wouldn’t have fought back, she wouldn’t have been hit. It was the first time in history where the real cause of such crime against women has been shown. But our politicians say showing the rapist mindset will increase such crimes. And the Home minister of our country is of view that this will affect tourism of our country and it will defame our country.  So our dirty linens were washed in UK by BBC. The ban on this video created more sensation and 300 thousands of people of our country watched it online. I watched the video too.

The documentary may affect our tourism. The damage is been done. It should have actually been shown specifically to the Indian audience. The documentary should reach all the criminals first.  They should learn to respect women.  But it reached UK audience and they saw like another Slum Dog Millionaire. And there will be an Oscar or a Nobel for Udwin and BBC Mount Everest TRPs. But the documentary shows all aspect of rape and it is unbiased and well shot.

The documentary India’s daughter is worth watching. There is no detailed scene of rape like any Bollywood movies have which our uncensored TV shows every day. Jyoti is not raped again in the documentary but is given due respect for her short life. It doesn’t promote rapist views. It shows the reality of our society.

The defense lawyer’s mentality shows the true mindset of our society. We as a society failed to discipline our sons. He clearly blames on the character of Jyoti for having premarital relationships and deserves to stay at home. He is unashamed to say that India’s culture is best and there is no place for women. The documentary is mirror to our mindsets.

There were some scenes where accused Akshay Thakur’s wife says is also a daughter of the country. Her life is useless without her husband.  There is no regret like true Bhartiya Nari she supports her husband in spite of being wrong. So helpless is a woman to her husbands’s wrong doing. Mukesh, with no regret says after this verdict, the rape victim will be killed leaving no evidence. Juvenile will be released in December. The case is still pending in Supreme Court. The prosecution lawyers also demanded ban on this documentary reason being it will weaken their case.

May be this documentary showed the darker side of our society. May be it is raising alarm for safety of women. But it also showed million people gathering in protests. People who didn’t even know her name or ever seen her, those people thronged on streets. The suppressed women came out. Students, housewives, professionals all demanded for a new law. The nationwide protest showed it was a time for change of rape law. The tolerating, suppressed, demure women have gone. The patriarchal society shall be changed soon. It is a beginning to change for the better. There will soon be equality in our society.

Jyoti, we are proud of you. You set an example to all of us. You made us proud. Your life is an inspiration to us. Such parents and such a girl should be saluted.  And by broadcasting this documentary more women will not be ashamed to be victims and be brave enough. She is no more but she is alive in our hearts and so is India’s daughter. I salute her on International Women’s Day!!!

Moon rays

Moon rays

Suwa Bai was the only daughter of Kishorimal amongst her four brothers. As the children grew up Kishorimal found a bridegroom for Suwa Bai and wives for his sons. All the children were happily married and he was at peace. Then Kishorimal passed away leaving behind huge agriculture lands for his sons and few old ornaments for Suwa Bai. Sukkhi Bai, his wife lived few days in grief and died soon after his demise.

Suwa Bai lived with her husband and two children in Balesar, a small village in Rajasthan. Her husband Pukraj was a farmer with a small plot. They were a content family. Until that year though the monsoon didn’t fail, the crops were good but the prices were low as the demand was less and supply was more. Pukraj sold the grains at low prices and mortaged his land. The family was going through a financial crisis. The next year, the debts increased till Suwa Bai sold her jewelry and Pukraj his land. Pukraj toiled on Zamindar’s land and Suwa Bai went to Jodhpur city as a street Hawker. Every morning she left Balesar and walked to Jodhpur selling wood and reached before sunset to her dinghy hut.

One day, Bastimal, Suwa Bai’s eldest brother had come to pick her up. His wife Laxmi had delivered a baby boy. So there was a big ceremony and all relatives and villagers were invited.  Suwa Bai was invited too. She was so happy that she immediately left for her brother’s house leaving her husband and children behind. She told them that she will send word, an invitation to them. She asked them to join her later.

As soon as she reached Bastimal’s house, Suwa Bai was showed the kitchen. For a whole day she toiled and cooked delicacies for the guests. She made laapsi, kheer, puri, gatta aloo mutter Etc. Her sisters in laws, brothers continued entertaining the guests while she toiled in the kitchen. It was half past five when all the guests left. Suwa Bai was not even asked to eat. She felt upset. But she was far more worried about her hungry children and husband. She was about to leave when Laxmi asked her to cook the evening meals. So she kneaded the dough and filled her ivory bangles with dough so that she could make porridge with it. She was about to leave when Laxmi said – “O’ Suwa Bai, wash your bangles before you leave”. Suwa Bai washed her bangles and tearfully cleared that dough off her bangles.

Suwa Bai reached her hut. It was dark by then. Her children slept waiting for her. Her husband looked at her disappointedly. She left her hut with a pot to fill with left over rice starch. It was dark, all the villagers were sleepy. Her brothers and sister in laws were asleep too. She went near the large wok with rice starch in it. She filled her pot and saw the reflection of the moon. She felt guilty. She thought “All the villagers are asleep. No one can see me. But God is watching me. How can I steal then?” She emptied her pot back and was about to leave when suddenly there was a voice, “Suwa Bai, O’ Suwa Bai”. It was dark and whole village was asleep including her starving children and husband. The voice called her again. She looked here and there. There was no one.

“O Suwa Bai, look here it is me; your Chanda Mama” Suwa Bai looked at the moon and it was talking to her. “I am pleased with your honesty. Inspite of no one watching you, you didn’t steal. Ask me Suwa anything you desire. ” The Moon God said. Suwa Bai looked at the full moon. It was the only light amidst the darkness in the village. She said” I do not know. What do I ask you?” Chanda Mama thought carefully and said, “Suwa, you humans need money to survive and I do not have that. I cannot give you food too. But I have my moon rays to give you. These are very precious to me. You sell them tomorrow on streets of Jodhpur.” and Chanda Mama disappeared behind the clouds.

Suwa Bai had a basket next day with scintillating moon rays in it. It was an amusing sight for onlookers when they saw a young woman calling out in a musical tone “Moon rays! Moon rays, Buy some Moon rays!” People giggled, laughed and mocked at her. But she continued calling “Moon rays! Moon rays!” Little boys on streets threw marbles at her. Young men teased her. Everyone called her mad and some abused her. “Till yesterday, she sold wood, today moon rays. How can anyone sell moon rays?” The crowd murmured.

Udairaj Singh, the King of Marwar strolled in his terrace garden in his palace. When he saw below something shone in a street hawker’s basket. The king asked his guards to let her inside the palace. He saw the moon rays they shone straight in his face like a diamond or even better. He hadn’t seen anything like this before. He asked her the price. Suwa Bai she said didn’t know.  He knew this was priceless. So he opened all seven treasuries and told her to take anything she wants till the sunset.

Misrimal, Suwa Bai’s second brother had come to pick her up. His wife Sumitra had delivered a boy baby. So there was a big ceremony and all relatives and villagers were invited. And he wanted to call her sister to prepare the meals. He searched for the thatched hut across the Banyan tree. But there was no trace of any hut. He called a passerby and asked “O Tau, there was a hut here, where did it go?” “Hut, which hut? This is no more a village now. This is a town. Who are you looking for?” He asked.

Suwa Bai was strolling in her veranda when she saw her brother. She asked her servant to bring him inside. Seeing his sister in a huge bungalow with rich ornaments and rich attire, Misrimal wondered if his sister will ever step in his house. Misrimal told her about the occasion.  Suwa Bai was excited and she immediately left for her brother’s house leaving her husband and children behind. She told them that she will send ward an invitation to them. She insisted they come only if all her brothers came with bullock carts and invited with utmost respect. She asked them to join her later wearing their finest clothes.

As soon as she reached Misrimal, all her sister in laws, brothers and other relatives gathered around her like bees. “Suwa Baiji! Sit here on chair”said one.  “Suwa Baiji! Please eat Kheer” said another. “Where are Pukrajji and children? Why haven’t they come yet?” said another. They were brought with warmth and grand hospitality ever shown. Suwa Bai then mocked aloud- Eat this kheer, my jewelry. Relish this Laapsi, my velvet ghaghra. What am I without these ornaments? Am I worth only this much?

Copyrights Nikitha Hingad 2015

.

Time

I think we all know that each individual is capable of doing anything. But not everything at once. As human society evolved we developed skills and became expert in one form of skill though we knew other forms. Slowly we started exchaging one work for another. For example you cook for me while I go hunting. Or you make my clothes and I go fish. And thus people grouped themselves specialising in one set of skills. This was barter trade. A cobbler exchanged shoes for clothes from a tailor. Look closely cobbler exchanged time ie labour hours for labour. It was time which was traded. We have one life and we wanted everything the best. So we had professionals to do one kind of job for us and in return we did one job . This way time is exchanged. Slowly, the time replaced something valuable like gold.
If you realise even we can mine diamonds and gold but we pay the miner. And the more old the carbon is, the greater possibility of being a diamond. Older minerals had more value. Ancient artificats has own value. Its basically exchange of time.
So why do some have more time/money and some have less? It's basically best use of time. In eight hours of the day the more value you add to the time , the more you earn. And yes we bargain time too.
The Bankers know the real time time value of money. When they lend us loan, we promise not just the principal but also the interest. We promise our future value of time in exchange of present one. After all present time is most valuable of all . We grow older our time is shorter. The youth has longer time, the old the shorter.
So in short time was the real money !

तुम

इन दूरियों  में तुम्हारा  ही एहसास याद आता है।
पलकों के नीचे सपने सजा ये  बैठे है।
आँख बंद करूँ तो  तुम ही तुम नज़र आते हो।
आखिर इतना तुम क्यों तड़प पाते हो ?


आँख खुली तो पता चला के तुम ख्यालों में बस्ते हो।
तुम्हारा साथ ही  तो चाहिए जीने के लिए।
तुम, तुम्हारी बाँहें  साथ हो मेरे।
तो हम तैयार है मौत  अपनाने के लिए।

Poetry Anthology

Dear readers,


I have recently contributed to a poetry anthology called Silver Lining which is available on
Amazon.com