Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

  Guilt weighs heavy on my heart, For all the times I've been apart, From the mother who has loved me so, And watched me grow. I've missed her words of wisdom true, Her guiding hand,and  loving view, And though I've made my own way, The guilt remains to this day. I've been too busy chasing dreams, To hear her silent, loving themes, And now the guilt consumes my mind, For all the times I've been unkind. I wish I could go back in time, And make things right, and make them shine, But all I have is guilt and pain, For not being there again and again. I hope she knows I love her so, And that my heart is filled with woe, For all the times I've been away, And left her with an empty space And left her with an empty space... Maneesha Purandare 23.1.23

  An old man walks the streets alone,H is thoughts as heavy as a stone. He visits cafes, shops, and bars, Just looking for someone to talk  and let the time pass . He tells stories of his past, Of love and loss that didn't last. He listens to the stranger's tales, And for a moment, he forgets his lonely wails. He finds solace in the company, Of those he's just met, that's a rarity. For in this world, where people rush, He finds a sense of human touch. Though he may be alone in life, He finds connection in the strangers, free from strife. And as he walks the streets once more, He feels a little less lonely, a little more sure. Maneesha Purandare 23.1.23 Background..I come across many elderly people on the bus who yearn for company , to talk to someone...this inspired me to write a poem!

  I procrastinate like it's my job, I'll put off tasks 'til the next lob. I'll clean my room, but not today, I'll do it tomorrow, what can I say? I've got a paper due, but it's not done, I'll write it later, just for fun. I'll start my work, but not just yet, I'll watch some videos, I won't fret. I'll make a call, but not right now, I'll do it later, somehow. I'll pay my bills, but not today, I'll do it tomorrow, what can I say? My to-do list is growing long, But I'll just procrastinate and sing this song. I'll get it done, but not right now, I'll do it later, anyhow. I'll get it done, but not right now, I'll do it later, anyhow... Maneesha Purandare 25.1.23 Brewing  in my mind for a long time  and finally completed it today!!  Procrastination duh!!

 Pathan.... In Pathaan the action cum sci-fi movie, The special effects are so groovy, But sometimes the plots are so cheesy, You'd think they were made by Feta and Brie! Shahrukh and John Abraham are so buff, With muscles that make you say "wowza!", But have you ever wondered, How they fit in those tight spandex powza! The explosions were so loud, And the gunfire never seemed to cease, But have you ever thought about, The poor eardrums of the police? In the air, the battle is fierce, With jets and planes flying in a blur, On a train, the action is intense, With punches and kicks flying clear! On ice, the fighters are slick, Sliding and gliding with such grace, But I wondered, How they didn't slip and fall on their face.? Deepika our desi Lara Croft, the adventurer, Explores the vault , without any censor, She always found the orbs and treasure  Without any proper indicator!! So next time you watch this action flick, And the plot sounds too preposterous, Just remember

  In the casualty, the hours crept by With the beeps and buzzes of machines The cries of pain, the muffled sighs Of those who suffer and lean. In walked a man with a finger broken, With eyes full of tears and voice so choken.. With every movement, he cried in pain Talking gibberish ,not so sane! But through the pain, he did not moan For in time, it will be a story shown Of a broken finger, soon to be whole And the strength it took, to reach that goal. In one corner sat a nauseous girl With a churning feeling and a whirl She sat there with her IV stand , Hope in her head and a sick -bowl in her hand! There in that corner sat a chatty old man His stories flew like a whirring fan. Of days gone by, and loves lost His voice, a soft and gentle cost. With every word, he painted a scene Of laughter and tears, and what might have been. His eyes twinkled with a spark of youth As he shared his tales, and told the truth. The smell of antiseptic filled the air As the medics