Breaking News or Breaking Hearts?

 Recited this poem at the Poetry event organized by You, Me and Poetry. The theme for the day was Breaking News. 

 Every morning, before the sun has fully stretched across the sky, before hope has found its way into another day, our screens flash...

 BREAKING NEWS.

 But is it really breaking news?

 Or is it simply another heart-breaking story waiting to remind us how cruel the world can be?

 Every day, we wake up to stories of rape, violence, murder, wars, accidents, betrayal and hatred.

Stories so gruesome that they make our skin crawl and our hearts grow heavy.

 We shake our heads and whisper, “What is this world coming to?” Yet tomorrow, we return... 

waiting for another headline.

 Sometimes I wonder... Have we become so used to sorrow that someone else's suffering has become our daily routine?

 A cousin once said something that has never left me:

“Perhaps we watch such news because somewhere within us there is relief... Thank God it wasn't us.”

 His words disturbed me.

Are we really so desperate to know every detail, watch every video, replay every tragedy, while someone's life lies shattered beyond repair?

 When did curiosity become greater than compassion?

 Why is heart-breaking news always worthy of bold letters and endless debates, while heart-warming news is quietly tucked away in the corner of a newspaper?

 Why don't such stories become Breaking News?

 Perhaps because goodness doesn't shout. It simply happens... one kind word, one helping hand, one forgiving heart at a time.

 I dream of a morning when our television screens announce: “Breaking News... Humanity Wins Again.”

“Breaking News... Kindness Travels Faster Than Hatred.” 

Wouldn't that be worth  watching?

I know the world cannot be free of sorrow. But surely, there is room for a little more hope, a little more kindness, a little more peace, and a lot more heart-warming news than heart-breaking news.

 Perhaps the next Breaking News shouldn't tell us how another life was lost. 

Perhaps it should remind us how humanity was found.

The Homecoming....Back to Our Roots

 Recited at You, Me and Poetry on Thursday 04?06/2026 for the theme Gharvaapasi/ Homecoming.

So here we are, journeyed roads unknown,

Chasing impossible dreams, the world has shown,

Deawn by glitter, speed and change,

We wandered through a widening range.

We carried forward the I, me, Myself charade,

With lies, deceit, hate, that the foundation laid,

We measured worth by wealth and size,

Saw deaths, assault and inhuman acts rise.

The noise grew louder, hearts grew cold,

Respect, goodwill, kindness, seemed ancient and old,

Respect gave way to carless words,

The wisdom of elders, they went unheard,

Courtesy faded from daily sight, 

Self  came first and wrong was deemed right.

Across the world unrest has grown,

Of fear and conflict, the seeds have been sown.

Though progress shines in many ways,

Brotherhood and peace eludes our troubled days.

We wore the modern cloak of greed with pride,

While simplicity and grace was callously cast aside.

But now the hour strikes, it's time to turn around,

We need to plant our feet back upon ancient ground,

Perhaps its time for a homecoming-

Not to a place but a way of being.

Let honesty be what we speak out loud,

Not the lies and deceit, to please the passing crowd.

Let civic sense and quiet virtue guide,

As we walk together, side by side.

Talking Pictures

 Tasveerein bolti nain, phir bhi bahut kuchh keh jaati hai,

Beete hue mausamon ki khushbu ssath le aati hai I

Jo pal lautkar kabhi nahi aate, Unhein umrabhar ke liye amar banaati hai I

Pictures do not breathe ,

Yet they keep hearts alive,

 They utter no words, 

Yet they speak the language of the soul.

They are our life's timelines,

Gathering fragments of our life,

Before they are carried away, 

By restless winds of tomorrow.

A baby's first uncertain step,

A birthday candle glowing with hope,

Joyful tears at a wedding,

A graduation cap tossed towards the sky.

A family or a group of friends,

Enjoying moments together,

When seen after a few years,

The ordinary feels extraordinary.

Every picture captures more than a moment,

It captures laughter before it fades,

And dreams and hopes before things change,

Love that grows beyond the widening distances.

A soldier stands beneath an unfamiliar sky,

A worn photograph of his wife and kids,

In this picture lives his courage,

His purpose and reason to return.

A faded portrait resting beside a lamp,

Maybe all that remains

Of someone whose voice

The world can no longer hear.

Yet families still smile through tears,

Friends still pause in silent conversations,

For love does not disappear with a heartbeat,

It lingers in every cherished picture.

Then there are pictures we dare not look at too often,

Our parents.....

Once the towering trees that sheltered every storm,

Their shoulders stoop a little lower, hair grow a little whiter.

Their hands gentler, slower.....wrinkled far too much,

The pictures then reveal,what hurried days conceal,

Time is slipping away,

For the ones we love the most.

When we search old albums,

 Old memories come alive,

Childhood, youth and adulthood,

We remember the joys and strife.

Pictures become mirrors,

They show us who we are,

They portray emotions,

And show who we have become.

They measure life's journey, not in years,

But in love shared, hands held,

Tears that fell,

And dreams fulfilled.

Pictures are truly precious,

For when time steals our youth, 

When distance separates hearts,

Words fail and memories fail, pictures keep talking.

Pictures are embedded,

In the deep corners of our heart,

Reminding us that life is never counted by the years we lived,

But the moments we loved enough to remember,

Yes! Pictures talk.