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The sum total of life was never easy to calculate,

And the equation of existence was never easy to evaluate,

Where, I had rubbed some, and some had rubbed me,

And from this tug of war I could never be free.


But I remember I was born with a mission,

That had a vision,

It also had a goalpost,

And it also had the foremost.


But then what went wrong?

That soon after I was born,

My mission changed and vision altered,

Goalpost shifted and I somersaulted.


Perhaps, in the windings of life,

Attractions were galore,

Where arrogance was available even in a road side store,

And where ego had become the dubious cynosure.


Slowly, all these had become the handy recipes for success,

Where, show off had become the order of the day,

Humbleness had become the emblem of the frail,

And politeness the solemn disgrace.


So, to stay the course,

 I deviated from my umbilical holds,

To become that fashionable rogue,

Where, I too, cheated to the fore,

And intimidated others, galore.


One day I met God while walking on the road,

He asked,

Son! How are you?

I replied,

Who are you?


He said,

Well I’m God your creator,

I replied,

But you’re quite a traitor,


In utter disbelief,

He asked why?

I said because you belied,

About the journey of life,

By selling me the futile.


But how?

Asked God,

I said,

Where, it was arrogance you gave me some great mission,

Where, it was ego you gave me some stupid vision,

And where it was show off you gave me that wide goalpost.


But all that wasn’t required,

To rise higher,

So I changed my fire,

And with that my sire.


But son I had sent you to there,

For everyone’s welfare,

But instead of welfare,

You became a malware,

And what will God do,

If it has sons like you?


That is your problem God,

If men can’t do what you want them to do,

Go create some other species,

That will help you chase,

Your mandate that is not easy.


Hold on my son,

Don’t throw such a referendum,

Life for you has just begun,

So, let give you an ultimatum.


Mend your ways,

And return,

To those humble and noble sways,

For you have no idea,


Of the sum total of those stormy waves,

That will only strike you,

When you’re at the twilight of your days,

And that will be too late.


In pursuit of wild success man has imbibed arrogance, ego and show-off leaving behind those splendid virtues of a simple lifestyle. And it is only by practice of simple habits the sum total of your life will move towards the positive side.


By Kamlesh Tripathi


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Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:


Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

IFSC code: BKID0006805


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In the arc of twilight,

When the day recedes,

Night retrieves,

Is when the daylight dims,

And darkness begins.


That makes me wonder,

Is it time to surrender?

Where the end looks closer,

And time every minute a bulldozer.


It appears as if,

There isn’t much left to render,

For the thread of life,

Now looks very slender.


So the time looks ripe,

In the realm of life,

To account for,

What you missed in the strife,

And gathered in the stride.


But before the destiny strikes,

 And takes you by its might,

Into the wide blue yonder,

That is full of thunder,

As you have to surrender,

It gives you a chance to remember.


Therefore before the untoward arrives,

Scan through your haphazard life,

To slate it out for your own sight,

What you could attain,

And what remained in vain.


And rejoice,

To the gift of life,

That the rare attain,

Wrapped in the hallowed domain,

Under the aegis of the sacred saint.


So reflect honestly,

To the count of your vivacity,

To feed your own vanity,

And ask yourself.


Did you see what you wanted to see?

Did you do what you wanted to do?

Did you say what you wanted to say?

Did you love, whom you wanted to love?


For the rhythm of life,

Is only as wide,

As the breath of life,

And only the lucky go past,

The fill of life.


So before the destiny arrives,

 In plentiful,

Be kind,

Be sublime,

For that is prime,

In the God’s mind.


By Kamlesh Tripathi






    Moms are special. They are never too old for their children. They continue to bless. Even more special are their memories, when they are gone. That keeps rocking you, all your life. Look after her as long as she’s alive. As beyond that it is only sad remembrance. Few lines in her honour.



Years don’t distort,

Time doesn’t warp,

Lifetime doesn’t blot,

Mother’s priceless memories,

 Always remains atop.


Even when I know you’re not there,

Yet there is always something,

 That tells me,

You’re somewhere here and there,

Along my life and for my care.


In the measure of time,

You carried me up to nine,

Then cradled me with all the rhymes,

You fed me to grind,

And taught me to shine.


My maiden friend,

The first to comprehend,

My lifelong mentor,

And evergreen centre.


In the shackles of time

You were always mine,

But when shackles unshackled,

God took you away in no time.


And since you’ve gone

Life is bereft of umpteen charms,

But the soul connect is still alive,

That revives the vibes

And that’s how life thrives.


Of all you taught me,

Each virtue is still refreshed,

I May have forgotten school,

But you’re still afresh.


As time passes,

More of it comes along,

Just as your loving memories,

That keeps coming on and on.


Ma you’ll never fade,

You’ll always shine like the jade,

As long as I live,

And even beyond my days.





In the heat of life,

There was never a summer,

But when the heat was over,

Only the winter got closer.


In my hectic life,

I was always uptight,

About things that mattered,

And also about things that didn’t matter.


In the days of heat,

Life was like a marathon race,

Where some pseudo brainwaves,

Had termed it as a rat race.


One initially thought,

It’s a onetime race,

But sadly, it turned out to be,

A lifetime of a race.


Where, the rats were surprised,

That it was some enterprise,

Where man stole the race,

And made it into a rat race,

And that too, without their gaze.


It all started well,

Like the string of jingle bells,

But soon the jingle was over,

And you were left as a rover.


There was so much to do,

And so much to improve,

Where I had my own dreams,

To brew and stew,

Until one day I realised,

I had a career to pursue.


Between the race and career,

Man had no breather,

Soon he became a teaser,

And with that a big schemer.


That resulted in endless pursuits,

And pointless disputes,

Bereft of generosity,

And full of ferocity,

Where humans were estranged,

And demons were ordained.


From exhaustive to repetitive lifestyle,

To loads of competition,

Until one day I realised,

Sanity was about to get paralysed.


As the stance of life was changing,

Where heat was evaporating,

Where winter was upstaging,

Grace was receding,

And where time was forsaking.


Is when I asked the creator,

What happens now?

When heat becomes cold,

Summer becomes winter,

Hectic become skeptic,

And I become rustic.


Nothing said the creator,

As good sense of life is always greater,

Then the rat race,

That happens to be a crater,

And in disguise a hater.


So come out of it,

To live in the winter,

That also has a summer,

That also has a shelter.


For rat race is just a phase,

And phase should not be a craze,

And the ultimate is encased,

In the wisdom of faith.


Share if you like it

By Kamlesh Tripathi


Shravan Charity Mission is an NGO that works for poor children suffering from life threatening diseases. Should you wish to donate for the cause the bank details are given below:


         Account no: 680510110004635 (BANK OF INDIA)

         IFSC code: BKID0006805




By Kamlesh Tripathi


It springs up every time,

That clutter in my empty mind,

And each time,

It only reminds me of wasted times.


If empty mind is a devil’s workshop,

A cluttered mind is a spooky den,

Where emptiness is a result of nothingness,

And clutter an offshoot of everythingness.


When I began doing things,

 I came out of my empty mind,

But by doing too many things at a time,

I cluttered my mind,

But whether it is the empty or the clutter,

Both smother the poetry of life.


And in this baffling world of mine,

One wonders at times,

From where to begin,

And where to end, the acrobats of life.


At times even the almighty—the mind … fails to act,

And slumps into emptiness,

And succumbs to everythingness,

And deviates from equilibrium,

Where, one only wonders why?


One day when I opened my eyes to see my mind,

I could only see zigzag and criss-cross of empty lines,

And that revealed the reasons,

For the clutter in my empty mind.


And thereafter,

I decided each day I would scan my mind,

And would meditate,

To remove,

The malwares floating in my mind.




By Kamlesh Tripathi



For every triumph I praised myself,

For each success I hailed myself,

But for each failure,

I never nailed myself.


Failures were hard to ingest,

And they were hard to digest,

And, therefore, for all my failures,

I created a villain in my life.


Whom I blamed fair and square,

Whom I condemned in all my nightmares,

And cursed each time I was in despair,

For all the failures that I couldn’t repair,

And this became a habit while in distress.


Until one day,

In utter rage,

I killed the villain with my own umbrage,

Fearing I had created a Frankenstein,

That might return some day.


For, I thought, forever, my failures were over,

And my debacles are forestalled,

So villain is no more required,

But success was still awaited,

Where my final victory was only round the corner.


So happily I proceeded,

Despising the villain,

Amplifying myself,

But not adhering to the tenets of life.


But as life would have it,

This time it was a calamity that struck,

Wiping out, all my successes,

And bringing about my doomsday.


But this time I had no one to blame,

As the villain was dead,

Whom I had killed myself,

And that made me realize,

Do own up your success,

But don’t blame someone else for your mistakes.