AJIT PAL SINGH DAIA

               Last Sunday I visited Pachmarhi along with my family & Surendra & his wife. Pachmarhi is just 140 kms away from Chhindwara where I have been living since last one year. Even during my training period at NADT(National Academy of Direct Taxes), there was an opportunity to visit Pachmarhi with my batchmates but I denied that opportunity. Finally, my plan to visit Pachmarhi turned into reality.           We settle in the hotel, and after having our lunch and a rest of half an hour we started for sightseeing. Firstly, we reached Pandav’s caves. These caves are not far from the bus stand. These are five ancient dwellings excavated in the sandstone rocks of moderate or rather low hill. A traditional legend attributed these caves to the Pandava’s incognito sojourn here during Mahabharat period. A History Student can resemble these caves to the stupa like remnants of Bu...

O Woman, Melt the hatred With your absolute love. The world is abound in fatal hatred And cut-throat competition In the world of mankind Sorrows surges in each direction. One Manu struggles in the eddies There is boat but no boatman O Kamayani ! Haul him to the coast With your faith and loyalty. O Woman, Melt the hatred With your absolute love. Have the bowlful poison Convert it into ambrosia O Meera ! Show Vikram Turning snakes in garland of flowers. Rama is exiled once again Has left the edifice of pleasures O Sita! Accept mere stone As the necklace of pearls. O Woman, Melt the hatred With your absolute love. Indeed,Its needed warrior lady Throw away your bracelets O Laxmi! Suppress the enemies With your valorous sword. Here emerges ruthless Banvir Udai Singh is in danger again O Panna! Sacrifice your Chandan For the sake of your Country. O Woman, Melt the hatred With your absolute love. -Ajit Pal Singh Daia

One day We were strolling On the moon, We traversed and traversed In the every nook and corner. Finally, when we got tired We sat on a plateau. Suddenly, Priya picked some round shaped pebbles and told me she Yeah, let us play And started we playing the marbles. When about to lose I was I started to cheat But she got the clue Filled with immense anger She threw the marbles In the sky. Those marbles are still revolving As nine planets! ! ! ! -Ajit Pal Singh Daia

Beautiful flowers Of myriad varieties Bloomed in my garden Scented is the whole ambient With enchanting fragrance Of different flowers. Often, come in my garden Birds, birds, birds Abound in varieties So colourful so charming I spell bound looking at them. That day Came in my garden A little tiny sunbird Very lovely, loveable indeed Having winsome blue hue Blushed with freshness Looking so exuberant so perky. And then Selecting a fresh flower With its long beak It started sucking the nectar. Suddenly, that little bird Looked at me and Smiled enigmatically. I fell into fix I asked- O beautiful Sunbird! Why did you laugh at me? Replied the bird- Listen O man! The reason of my laughing Is just that When I saw you A thought came to my mind That if you were a bird You only, yes you only Would have sucked The nectar of all the flowers And nothing would leave behind For we poor birds. Then I thanked Almighty That he has not made you Men birds! ...

I Yes, I I do not want to become great. But why? In fact everything has a reason behind it . So I....... Why do I not want to become great, There is a reason behind it also. I have observed and Whenever I get an opportunity I observe it time and again. The gist of my observation is just that Whenever a man becomes great He becomes a statue. And is placed at town squares and circles Just as a decorative item. Rather I should say he gets a punishment for becoming great . Everyday thousands and thousands Will pass by him but in fact, no one get face to face to him Or even notices him, excluding exception of a couple of days . The exceptions are usually the birth day and the death anniversary of the great man . On these special days Perhaps (it depends upon the level of greatness of the great) The statue and its surrounding will be cleaned, The statue will be garlanded Some felicitations or functions will be organised Bur the remaining 363 days (or 364 day...

The golden colour of The medal hanging there On the yellow wall Of my drawing room Has lost glitter And become gloomy. And lost its colour Also the saffron ribbon Tying up the medal. But whenever I look at The medal I won Years and years ago. I still feel that the event Has occurred just now. I raise my hands Trouncing the opponent I swipe my fist Towards the sky. Look, the spectators cry With joy and zeal They are crazy for me And clap for me. I get on the rostrum The coveted medal is Garlanded in my neck. My breast broadens Lips smile exuberantly. My fingers shapes V, I still feel the fragrance Of the bouquet of roses Given to me. I kiss the medal and Throw a flying kiss Towards my fiancée Among the spectators, Cheering my triumph. The mammoth applause Of clapping accolade me, It still echoes in my ears. Oh! ... My past is Deeming into present. Sorry........my dears. -- AJIT PAL SINGH DAIA

                      Poetry, I think, is one thing human beings are fond of right from the origin of civilization. It has been a part and parcel of every civilization. In fact, even before the development of scripts or rather languages, this has been a taste of people throughout the world. While discussing poetry, first question arises what poetry is?But actually I am not a literature student so I dare not define it. Frankly, trying to define poetry is a useless enterprise. Poetry is the creation of meaningful beauty or beautiful meaning by words, which thus both create and express who or what we are. in fact, there is no limit to the subject matter of poetry, whatever our human heartand mind can contemplate or brood over or entertain is fair game like life and death, love and god, sex and marriage, even destruction of Bamian in Afghanistan or depression in the USA .In nut she...