DHARMPAL MAHENDRA JAIN - POEMS

Born (1952) and raised in tribal reserve of Jhabua, India, Dharmpal is a Toronto based Author. He writes in Hindi and has six published books- four collections of satirical essays and two collections of Poetry. He is a columnist for three prestigious journals Chankya Varta, Setu and Vishwagatha. His works have also appeared in prestigious Hindi journals across the world. He is currently working on a full-length collection in English. FB: https://www.facebook.com/djain2017        Web page – www.dharmtoronto.com   

Robot
​

​Motorized hands
cut the tree and
separate it from the earth.
Motorized hands pick the stem
and remove the branches.
Motorized hands give a shape
to the wood – a standard
length, thickness, and height.
Motorized hands tear up
a jungle overnight
and wipe out the beauty of the earth.
Motorized hands, one day,
will grab the Man
and guide Him to its motorized mouth.

 

His Prayer Be answered
​

​I'm afraid to pray.
His heart beats faster while praying,
there is no bomb hidden,
no armored gunman,
no one masking with monkey cap.
May all leave fine from here.
May my prayers be answered.
 
I do not like
when bullets tear apart faith,
especially when life is at stake.
HE whom you trust most
doesn't seem to be around anywhere.
I don’t know if HE is scared of
his followers’ intentions.
 
There is tight security across,
tough scrutiny,
people in queues are worried.
No one can catch
the miscreants who think ill,
not even God.
HE would be surprised
HE is unseen and so are his guys.
 
Stadiums, auditoriums, or trains:
never know when
these might turn
into sites of massacre like Jallianwala.
It takes no time for a person
to transform into General Dyer.
 
Airplanes in the sky,
trucks running on the roads,
cars parked on the streets, and
bicycles chained at stands:
Satan may love anything anytime.
 
Unable to restore a smile on my companion,
it seems he is thinking
about whether he will reach home safely.
May his prayers be answered.

Thinking That
​

​Why think 
about the crowd of 
galaxies with
many suns like ours,
overlords of their respective solar systems
with endless prospects of life;
and, perhaps, with the enticement
of making one immortal in their gravity?
 
Why think 
about the rainbow
across which live
many gods and goddesses,
enjoying endless opulence and pleasures
while creating the rules of Heaven?
 
Why think about
the wombs of the bottomless oceans
that carries Cows of Plenty, 
desire Fulfilling Trees, 
pearls, night jasmine, 
best horses, beautiful women,
and a jar of nectar granting eternal life?
 
Why think about all that
when the earth, I know, is 
the best fit of all?

​O Divine
 

​I touch you with this hope
that someday
you will touch me.
 
When I touch you
my mind comes to rest
as if a cyclone has stopped in the ocean.
A mild smile spreads across my face.
I keep looking at you
with this hope
that someday
you will see me.
 
When I touch you
I feel mutterings within my heart.
Listen to the vibrations of the beats
for there is a song in the making,
blooming with this hope
that someday
you will hear me.
 
I know
you hear,
you see,
you touch.
you just do not tell me.