In Search of Joy

 Desiring, aspiring for joy is a natural given

For all human beings, why for all beings!

We all want to be happy, joyful

Yet, today it’s appearing to be a mirage

In the times that we are living in!

 

Social media prescribes new norms for “being joyful”

Are you travelling to exotic places of the world?

Are your driving a fancy big car? Wearing branded shirt?

Doing big business? A sought-after sportsperson, movie star?

At least, In a high place in the corporate ladder?

 

Yet, we Indians had known for a long time

That ‘Joy’ is not the monopoly of the rich and famous

It’s something that rises like waves from within

It doesn’t need external validation.

 

The simple things like hugging “my baby to sleep”

Going to a cinema in the village, A big smile

On the face of loved one, reading favourite book

Eating home cooked food, served with love

Can all be sources of great joy, seemingly ordinary things

Yet extraordinary in its outcome!     

NB: This poem was published in the ALS anthology 2025

Return of the monsoon clouds

 

It comes year after year

Causing him to live and relive, old bitter sweet memories

Oh how much he wished to get rid of them

But no, it’s all about nature and it’s cycle

If there is spring and summer

There will also be the rains and winter

 

The pain of reliving can never be explained

It can only be experienced, known fully

Only by the one going through it

For him the images of endless cups of tea

 At their isolated favourite restaurant

 the romantic movies they watched together

or the quiet evening strolls in the park holding hands

until the sun went down, saying it’s time to go

images pop up, even as the dark clouds gather

and the rains come pouring down!

 

Along with those, come the scenes

of their last days together, full of

Misunderstandings and ego clashes

The refusal to take calls, the bitterness

And the final decision to part forever

 

Deciding, speaking out about parting was easy

The harder part was the reality of living without her

While she seemed to have moved on

For him the periodical arrival of the wretched dark clouds

Was like a chain, chaining him to the past!

 

Friends, family, well-wishers advised

Ok, ok, “Better to have loved & lost

Than to have not loved at all, but now it’s time to move on”

As if he didn’t know that! Yet there he was in his forties

A helpless slave to the past, destined to run

And rerun images, on the return of the monsoon clouds! 

NB: This poem was composed for recitation during the online poetry meet of Seniors Today on 4/9/2026