[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Poems by C Radhika – Issue.XXVIiI : May 2017 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]indian… all the way[/ultimate_heading]

Radhika is a teacher, soft skill trainer and a writer residing in Secunderabad. She writes about social issues that concern women in particular. She is a member of Vatayan, a forum for women writers who regularly meet up and share their writings. Her articles and poems have appeared in Woman’s Era, Me, Teacher plus, Deccan chronicle, Central chronicle, The Hindu etc. Presently she divides her time between her students, home and her poetry.




After a decade,

Of hectic schedules

I have retired.

I planned for a visit

To holy places,

To pay my respects

To the divine.

I packed my luggage,

Commenced my journey,

Sometimes by train or by bus,

Marveling at my ancestors

Who journeyed by foot.

I am shocked to see

The transformation.

Pilgrims can hop

Into a helicopter

Or take a ropeway

Or be carried in a basket

And have special darshans

With the power of money.

Beggars make a living

Beseeching the pilgrims

Pickpockets make their day

From the unsuspecting.

The photographers flock

For one who wants to flaunt

With the temple

Delegated to the background.

The business, thrive,

Selling memento and trivia

As the pilgrims, throng.

Some new age temples

Have combo offers

With   parks and rides;

Shops and restaurants;

Trying to combine,

Pleasure with devotion.

As I seek for a vision;

I see the true devotion

Of craftsmen and sculptors

Whose dedicated work

Beckons the pilgrims

From far and near,

To have a glimpse,

Where the divinity exist.



The Train

The platform is crowded

Some to see off

Some embarking

On  a journey

To places distant.

Some in search

Of their destiny

Some returning home

Lost in the memory lane.

A few on a trip

To attend

A social gathering

The occasion, happy or sad.

As the train gathers


The platform is left behind.

The passengers settle

Taking stock

Of their belongings

Some brooding over

Happenings, past and recent

Anticipating the future

Some look out

As the villages,

Towns and cities,

Pass by,

With people busy

Minding their business.

Not to miss,

The fields and rivers,

Mountains and forests

Giving a glimpse

Of the life pulse

That throbs through India.

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