Monday, 29 December 2014

The Woman

She lived in the hills,
Up and down she went.
Grazing the cattle,
Getting the water.

She lived in the village,
Where people would go for pilgrimage.
She would breathe through a piece of cloth,
She would cover head.

She lived in a town,
Going around.
Barely any adventure,
Just the same old routine.

She lives in cities,
Rich and fashionable,
Working and partying,
Her hair down.
But still not independent.
She is still scared.
“Will she ever be able to......”
To go out
At any time of day.
To go out,
To come back home safe each day.

Women are not things to use.
Women are no things to abuse.
Women are not things.
We place our goddesses of heaven on the highest pedestal of respect,

Then why is it that there is a difference in the value of worship? 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Thursday, 25 December 2014

Serious part 1 Diwali Crackers

He sat there looking at his hands,
Blistered, burnt - covered with bands. 
Bands of cloth, dipped in antiseptic,
Dirty and unchanged. 

She sat next to him,
In the same way.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, 
Onto skin that was cut away.

They were 10 and 8 
They had their lives ahead of them,
Were supposed to be joyful and lively. 

But they were stuck there, 
Stuck in a stupid old factory. 
A stupid old factory making stupid crackers. 
But were they really living?

Promised an income,
They were snuck into towns. 
Uprooted from their cosy homes,

Did they see the money that was promised?
Did they see their parents?

All they saw were their damaged hands,
And a bunch of greedy children every day. 
Those spoilt greedy children were blown away,
Blown away by what they made.

Used to tug at their parents clothes,
Begging them to buy. 
Spent a bomb, these families did,
To see their kids jump with joy. 

But were they given that opportunity?  
Were they ever given that luxury?

These kids need to be educated,
Not stuck in these four metal walls.
These walls of terror,
These walls of pain. 

Stop child labour,

See the country grow. 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Monday, 22 December 2014

Hey Friend! PART 1

So this was kinda hard to write,
Try to understand my plight. 
But here goes anyway,
I don’t have much to give away.

Happy birthday! You're turning fifteen today,
One step closer to your hair turning grey. 
I mean this in no offence,
But birthdays are a sad thing to celebrate. 
But since it’s our social code of conduct,
I hereby present to you this product. 
I know it’s a sad one indeed,
But try, oh try to not to make it into such a big deal!
It’s just something off my mind,
That I’m penning down for your kind. 

So where do we start,
Oh where do we begin? 

I remember the first day you came to class
Walked in with such sass,
It wasn’t bad I must say,
Just not something saw every day.

Sat in the opposite corner of the room,
While most of the boys gave you the look of doom. 
Well of course they would you had crossed the line!
And sat on "their side". 

After your introduction,
I walked up to you. 
Said hello, then my name

You replied with a wide grin,
"Hey I’m  ___________ !"
I invited you to the "cool side" 
While doing the creepy smirk. 

We spoke for the next few days,
and then BAM!
the summer vacations hit. 
We didn’t talk,
We didn’t meet. 
But still on the first day of school, you said "hey".

Specs gone, you had contacts
You were complaining about them as a matter of fact. 
We chilled, we hung out and I got closer to you. 
Discovered the similarities,
and the differences too. 

Still a lot more to know,
A lot more to learn,
But trust me this is one thing I’m eager to learn. 
I’m writing this for you because I realise,
My sketch of you was not very nice. 

So here you go, hope you like it. 
Hope you enjoy and read this 50 years later all old and frail and choke up. 
Anyway happy birthday!

Love you loads 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Wednesday, 17 December 2014

Michael Jackson

I had a dream about Michael Jackson, 
He wasn't dead, but alive. 
He was staying at my place,
For a very, very long time. 

It was a bit weird,
Having him over,
Had some particular ways
Some pricey demands. 

Thought of him as picky,
As a fussy eater 
He was seen blowing up the waiter. 

Waiter, I don't even know where one came from!
Seemed to be a seedling of my brain,
Of my wild imagination. 

But just as he was leaving,
Going back home,

I heard a familiar voice screaming,

"You're going to be late!" said my mom!

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Friday, 12 December 2014

No Moon.

"Where's the moon?" she said one night,
While driving with her parents. 
There was no moonlight like you would imagine there to be,
Just the city lights and reflectors. 

Sky too polluted to see even a speck of a star, 
She longed to see the one whom the lullabies were set on. 

She wondered what it actually was -
Looked like it was sad. 

Looked like it was glad. 

Imagined if there were people there too,
Looking at her
Just like she was looking at them. 

She couldn't wait to know more 
But she'd have to wait. 

She reached home and Googled it,
Just one word – moon.
But being a student of grade 4,
She’d have to get into bed soon.

Bookmarking the tab,
Yes, she was technologically savvy.

Washing her face, she wondered,
And she wondered some more, while brushing her teeth,
And during the bed time story too.

She dreamt about the moon that night,
And yes, it was all very bright.

She wondered what it actually was -
Looked like it was sad. 

Looked like it was glad. 

"Where's the moon?" she said one night,
While driving with her parents. 

There was no moonlight like you would imagine there to be,
Just the city lights and reflectors. 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

(Not my photography, credits: UNKNOWN)

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Small things

Do you think he's happy,
Sitting alone in that corner?
Do you think he's happy,
Firing at that border?
Do you think she's happy,
Getting rejected all the time?
Do you think she's happy,
Working hours at end? 

If yes, you're mistaken my dear,
Because trust me when I say it couldn't be more clear. 

Their opportunities snatched,
They feel detached. 
And they may keep their shoulders up, and their heads held high 
But not satisfied within. 

There is a clear line of difference 
Between judgment and inference. 
Life can be easy for some,
But a nightmare for others. 

So don't take their smiles for granted 
Neither their love
Nor the twinkle in their eyes. 

It can be hard to share you know,
It can blind people, 
Create a mist in front. 
It can be hard to share you know,
It can bind people,
Make their day. 

One gesture of love,
One of kindness
Is enough to make one happy 
But one gesture of hatred,
One of violence 

Can scar a person for life. 

- Ragini Zutshi Anand

Monday, 1 December 2014

My Green Cupboard

Okay, so last year we were getting our house re-painted and blah blah blah, and I was asked to decide the colour for my room. Now, at that point of time, I was OBSSESSED with neon green. I don’t even know why, but I loved it. My slippers are actually neon green/lime green in colour and shaped like dragon claws (picture attached below). So as soon as the question popped up, I screamed neon green, and was answered back at with a blatant “no”, with no thought given to it, no questions asked.

An ordinary shade of blue, called “Mughal blue” was chosen and the colour was sprawled across the textured wall.
I still sulk about it at times, but I guess it’s okay. Getting back to the topic, my parents decided to let me have a touch of green in my room – my cupboard.

My cupboard looks like a boring old cupboard from the outside, plain brown with a bronze/golden handle, but when you open it the green hits you like a disco ball.
And I love it.

The week after the painting was done my friends came over, saw my room and the “Mughal blue” and said it was looking nice, asking why I made a face every time they said that. My mom walked in, heard them say that, went over to my cupboard, opened it, and literally say “ta-ta-da!”. 

My friends turned and squinted at the sight. It was so bright! My mom pointed at the colour and said, “she sulks because she wanted this on that wall.” And my friends gave me a look of utter disappointment and disgust.

So thats the story of my green cupboard, hope you liked it!