SOMEWHERE IN THE MOUNTAINS

High on a mountain-top

Where the pine and elms grow,

Where feral winds whisper

As they pass to and fro;

Ancient mossy boulders

Watch an orange sunrise,

Far horizons change hues

In colourful disguise;

Thick swirling mist often

Arrives with the dusk,

Veiling the rugged slopes

With the fragrance of musk;

Twilight brings in grey clouds

That often stays the night,

To let a drizzle tease

Trembling boughs in delight;

Hidden blooms come alive

To let the glow-worms pass,

Waking up cicadas

As they clamour en masse;

A myriad play begins

Wild winds singing a song,

Dark skies lighting the stage,

Thunder drumming along;

Shadows wait like phantoms

Near a silvery rill,

A mystic night wonders

At this magical drill.

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Winding up one summer's day...

It's late afternoon... discernibly hot, lazy and a trifle breezy. Can hear the cacophony of honking vehicles minus the urgency of a normal weekday traffic, could be the unscheduled holiday declared right in the middle of the week... being the birth anniversary of the great legend. Feel a trifle dull, besides its sultry outside and I can see pedestrians, meandering listlessly, perhaps winding homewards.  Some stand huddled around the small ramshackle tea-kiosk just across, a hot cuppa on a hot day perhaps brings fortified relief.  The clock shows its well past four...dusk is more than an hour away, can spy a few birds gliding aimlessly across the rusty-blue skies, a few lines emerge across the realms of my mind:


Waiting for Dusk..


As dusk drawn neigh,
I heave a sigh,
A day in my life is done,


When the skies turn dark,
The stars will mark,
My prayer's the God's did shun,


Darkness whispers night long,
To shadows in a muted throng,
Dreams which were lost and won.


Dawn will colour another day,
Much ado to make hay, 
And life will watch the fun.


I urge myself to leave office.. perhaps the quietude of home beckons. The noisy street below and the drone of construction work on the adjoining plot suddenly seems unbearable. Shall come back tomorrow, I solace myself, to wage another battle with life. Even though I can boast of no victories today, for it was a grim day of survival - gritty perhaps but then I live to fight another day.  At the end what really counts, for me, for anyone is - Survival.  And that the God's have kindly bestowed.


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Dancing

Summer Rains..

Looking at the rains today.. I remembered a summer long ago.  It would rain almost every day, just at dusk, like it is raining now.  They were painful times.. and my heart would feel heavy.  Yet, the pain would inevitably bring old memories, which would caress the soul with its balm of loneliness and a strange comfort that I would never be alone again.  Pain can be a strange companion.. haunting but loyal, perhaps it never leaves us completely.  It is strange when we embrace its cold nothingness.. for often its our's forever, teaching us golden lessons which are priceless.


Summer Rains..


It would rain that summer when dusk fell,
Pensive I would watch tiny rivulets swell,
Flowing rainwater... carrying little dry twigs, 
And the trees wearing drenched green wigs.


The wild wind whispering songs of past,
Spraying droplets the clouds would cast,
Thunder sounding like the drums of heaven,
Darkness shrouding the stars like craven.


Sounds on earth as the rains did pour,
Reminiscing thoughts long lost in yore,
Craving for souls long gone from my life,
Just grovelling around in pain and strife.


Only thoughts remain of that sultry summer,
When thunder sounded like a crazed drummer,
The lightning had revealed demons of dark,
Deep scars within which left it's mark. 

Dusk draws neigh...

Dusk quietly gathers outside my window...it's slow subtle steps inch snail-like towards the darkness. I can see the skies painted a shade of pale yellow with streaks of crimson and grey, there are clouds high up which may bring rain at night.  Has been a hot day, so typically May and its just the first day of the month. A gently breeze blows rustling the leaves on the mango tree just across from where I sit, can see the ripening mangoes rocking in their golden  redness, looking splendid and so tempting.  
Can hear the cacophony of birds returning to their nests.. their day is done, unlike us, they do not have the luxury of a holiday, every day is a working day.  Wonder if they know what holiday's are all about.. but perhaps they enjoy their work and day much more than what we do. I always feel animals and birds live more in the present, for they do not care to think or hoard for the future like humans.  Blissful life really...today I cannot see the evening star, perhaps the clouds cover it.  When I was a child I would be told to make a wish moment the evening star was out, there were a few lines which was prayer like, I would need to recite it, but I have long since forgotten it, much like I no longer wish when I see the evening star.  Just today, I feel like composing the lines.. my own for the evening star:


Star light, star bright.. I wish I may, I wish I might,
Fulfill my desires prayed for.. be it day or at night
Moon light, moon bright.. I wish I could, I wish I may,
Be happy always and spread joy.. in life's glorious way,
Lord of the Heavens... angels & fairies heed my prayerful call,
Send me goodness, bless my home...and  may I do good to all.


May the days ahead.. bring forth the best to all the denizens of this nation - usher in lasting peace, health and prosperity and propel us forward into a bright and glorious future.

Another Sunday...

Sunday's are for leisure.. yet, had not been particularly looking forward to the day today. Knew had much to do.. marketing in the morning, a meditation and yoga camp to attend, guests at home for lunch, an invitation to attend a classical music program and then a dinner at a colleague's place.  Felt  claustrophobic...to spend the day with so much and so many and no time for myself. Weekends are always nice when I can spend time with myself.. need that.. guess we all do. Tried to do all I could but as always, I managed to do some of them and some remained in oblivion..a few lines penned from my thoughts:


Endeavored all Sunday long.. duties & work galore,
Struggled hapless with trivials.. yet they seemed to pour,
Did some.. failed some.. wonder what was in store,
Few I knew would be happy with me.. the rest little sore,
Tired and harried I ran around as the holiday wore,
Times I felt a little terse and at times I even swore,
Monday loomed large ahead..could feel work implore,
Had enough with weekends.. wouldn't want anymore.


So it ended another Sunday...not the best I could have but then we need to live with reality and with life. Needless to say, it is not always interesting or good but then who am I to say so... we all need to live with life and even if it is not fair, it is yet worth living.

A NEW ACCOUNTING YEAR..

A New Year's Song..


My beloved Accountants of this world unite,
A new accounting year commenced last night,
I believe we still have mighty battles to fight,
And nobody cares about our sodden plight,
Even though we portray that we are right,
And victory may appear out of our glaring sight,
For a change let us stop being so uptight,
For divinity has played upon us a little trite,
And our true blessings may be in blight,
But at the end of our tunnel.. there is light,
Also we are bold enough to not get a fright,
Let us march ahead for never know what we might,
Be there the deepest of seas or mountains of height,
For there lies hope and I believe our future is bright...!


Composed by CA. Amar Agarwala,who warmly salutes every Chartered Accountant worth his/her element in salt and every other accountant who struggles hard for existence and wishing each of them a - HAPPY NEW ACCOUNTING YEAR!

AN ACCOUNTANT'S JOURNAL...

With 31st March fast approaching, I can well comprehend the state of many Chartered Accountants caught in the intricate web of year closing work, being one  myself. Yet, despite the incredible pressures and occupational hazards, I believe that they work in silence as compared to many others. Accountants known for their penchant at behind the desk work and being orthodox and boring are somehow away from limelight, save for an annual bit of budget analysis where they are unceremoniously asked to chip in with brief comments. Not that it really counts... more so, in a country of like ours, where it is increasingly being felt that the voice of sanity is being smothered without remorse.  I feel for this most misunderstood breed of professionals, not only  because I am an integral part of the fraternity but also for the reason that I carry an sense of acute responsibility to show them in true light for the kind of work they do and life they lead.  Perhaps, being an author, it becomes all the more imperative that I take up this onerous responsibility.  So here it goes, a small narrative prose in honor of every CA and for all who think of us as anything but a big bookish-bore:

Ode to a Chartered Accountant

I knew of an auditor not too long ago,

Very sincere he was but a wee bit slow,

With numbers his days were endlessly long

Could never slumber or break into a song,

He always felt that his work was life

Was disliked by many but most by his wife,

Seemed forever on the barrel of a gun

Be they statutes or bland figures undone,

He seldom smiled and never laughed aloud

People thought he was stuck up and proud,

His folks were tired of his workaholic ways

For his face was long and so were his days,

But sincere he was and knew all norms

And rarely erred when filling up forms,

His earnings were measly and often low

For despite his diligence he was unpaid so,

With advancing age his health grew frail

Yet he never allowed his duties to trail,

Life-long he seemed harried with work

Annoyed he was but he never did shirk,

Accused of wrongs was his destiny’s guile

Be it a report or an income-tax file,

Once he told me of his jumbled state

Which none could follow, but just his fate,

  

He sadly mused of his work and duty

And never chancing upon life’s beauty,

Felt his obituary would be short not shallow

For the happy readers would soon follow,

One last little wish made my dear old mate

May the heavens balance his sheet on date.

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My dear readers, if you ever happen to spy upon a balance sheet or financial figures.. do spare us a kind thought.  We need it... even if you feel we do not deserve so!