Holidays are anyone’s love.

For me they are to a place,

a hill station, Coonoor

year after year.


Nothing can I say

to mom and dad

they being known

for strictness to the end.


The annual school year vacation,

two months of  April and May,

I spent in the quiet town

punctuated by walks.


Mom’s soups and salads

trigger the appetite as the

vegetables are from

the kitchen garden which she nurtures.


Enjoyable  in a way, I admit.

My cheeks turn pink, a welcome outcome.

The weather is salubrious

the environment appeals and appeases.


Monotony  does exist at times,

but the pleasantness excels.

The break inspires and the joy

I experience  knows no bounds.







Being Pal

Pal’s teachers would complain 
about his unkempt hair. 
They combed his hair made him
look presentable,

He will make his friends believe
that he comes from a poor family,
His father  a daily wage earner
and his mother  uneducated.

 He came to school in a 
chauffer driven car, 
when mom entered his class
to review his performance, 

the classmates could not 
believe to see a dignified,  
well informed and elegant lady
Pal  held his head down.

He did not lift his eyes when 
the teacher appraised mom 
of his  unsatisfactory  progress,
and his disclosures,

Pal continues being dubious,
speaking one, doing other
mixing lies and deceit liberally.


Pal Calls

I pick the call
allow him to talk
intercepting with 
‘yes, yes, yes”.

His intonation
grows sharp
‘are you listening?”
 he asks.

“Yes. yes. yes”.
I reply. Unconvinced 
he asks me quickly
 “what did I say”?

” You were talking about 
the keys” “.You are right.”
He elaborates his search
with reference to context.

He rambles for ten minutes. 
Concludes in a low key 
he cannot find them.
I key in ” It is what I expected “.


I Call Pal

 engage in a dialogue
with him. Spontaneity, is his strength,
Has  multiple excuses in stock, all
coveted lies.  

The belongings, of my parents  
the meanest to the mightiest
remain undivided for 18 years.
I  believe with strong suspicion,

 Pal, who lives in the  sprawling  house.
 says cupboards are locked 
 does not know where the keys are.
 he just occupies the rooms.

I listen to him with disbelief
Clearing his throat, he tells  demurely
“most of the expensive ones —–“
searching for words  he extends,

I butt in ” expensive ones!  where are they”?
He speaks aloud, “gone,  gone,” looks 
at the sky, sobbing he cries 
“where I do not know?”

Baffled by his outcry, I freeze.
Pal has  connived with either the one 
or the other, could be the rest of my siblings too, 
divided the valuables leaving me none.

The rosewood almirahs, the wall mounted teak 
ones stare at me, appear as though they 
want to reveal  what transpired. 
They breathe life while Pal stays wood like.


Snail Follows The Tortoise

Often being compared 
to a snail, more so to a tortoise,
I move in my own space.
 am slow, dead slow.

My voice is rarely heard.
Closeted  in the  shell, I
watch from within 
the without.

Beauty goes with a peacock,
dog is known for faithfulness,
monkey for pranks, but who
do snail and tortoise qualify?

” They fit you, you, you”  my friends 
jeer and tease.  I stay calm, sullen
while they attribute  my introvertedness 
 to my genes those of the mammals.


The Poosari

The gathering grows ecstatic
 screams and shouts
 crackers explode, 
 high pitched music
 With pots of water on the heads 
rose and marigold garlands  
 around theirt necks, 
with ash smeared liberally 
on their chests, foreheads, arms,
the priests dance unrhythmically,  
the pot remains intact, the drummers  
beat  fiercely, their hair oscillating,
 a strong push of the locks 
not with the hand  but 
with the drum bells
 enhance the tempo,
the eyes of the priests flutter,
 tears stream down, lips quiver,
 Sami irungricchu, finally.

The chief priest begins
 in a belligerent tone,
 “Karuppar  mel anai
kodumai pala. noi niraiya 
paavam peruga, throwing
poetic song set to his 
own tune. His  eloquence
gains momentum, he concludes 
with a  brandish saying 
vidivu kaalm varukirathu
 falls on the ground like 
a log. His disciples sprinkle 
water on his face. By the time
 his coffer enrichens. 
He is worth a hundred thousand.

PS, Karuppar is a village God. The priest swears on him and foretells that the world is full of evil, disease plenty, sins abound,


My Poor Right Hand

With the mobile in hand 
almost through the day,
on call from a friend
asking about my well being,
another from a relative
seeking guidance to fix 
a marriage proposal,
the third one from my staff 
asking for a loan, so I go on
talking, talking all the time
until my throat becomes dry
my voice goes down.

I lose track of the one 
and the other, giving advice 
to the wrong person, who pauses 
for a while, a little bewildered.
I clear my throat, realize
 my  fault, manage with 
 a guffaw, I exclaim “oh! it is—
 it was —“with a  long drawl
the person drops the call 
I continue to air my views
into the vacuum, gesticulating

Gosh ! In a split of a second
 my fingers turn numb, the mobile 
crashes down, luckily on  the bed,
a silent fall ,out goes the connection,
down comes my arm lifeless.
Not longer I experience a shooting 
pain around my shoulder blade
travels through the arms,  pinches
the nerves, the wrist loses action
the palm remains  dead,. The mobile 
comes to life, rings uninterruptedly.
My left hand  dares not  pick the gadget. 
Left is sensible than right.


It Is Madurai

 Madurai,  breathequietly on the banks
of River Vaigai, remains awake the entire 
night, busy as a trading center.

An icon of the hoary past
steeped in culture and religion
 its existence goes beyond 

before Christ B,C and 
anno Domini  A.D. unfathomable 
to any calculation,

It has been the Capital
 of the Pandya Kingdom,
 has hosted assemblies 

of scholars  who presented 
literary works of  high standard,
 literature flourished, reached 
the pinnacle  of glory.

The gathering  in different periods
  named as Three Sangams, head,
 middle and last, where thousands of poems
were read.

The town hosts scores of temples
 not small in any sense, massive
 and majestic,  greatness and power

 compete vigorously which one 
 is upbeat none can define. The town
  till date lives with extreme modesty,

making a steady progress,
with an eye on preservation
its antiquity, piety and discipline 
the three cardinal validations,


A Slice

 Carefree and smiling  
 facing zero  impediments 
 at any moment,

Schooling done easy 
University being  facile
the outlook of life

brings in splendour,
happiness being 
the be all and end all.

Marriage follows, as is the 
tradition, with that heavy
responsibilities stream in.

Experiencing a cultural 
upheaval,  my enthusiasm 
dies all too soon.

Demands at  every corner, 
diffidence  always in sight 
forces a metamorphosis 
 forces a  metamorphosis.

I relinquish my endearing nature
 Did I become a shrew?
No, not exactly.

I count every penny,
weigh every turn of events,
think, think to the power of n.

Losing the spontaneity. I am overloaded
 carry a bundle of contradictions with
 a parcel of  contemplation.

Life has treated me  harsh.
My smile lives with me prescribing
 atypical connotations at  various stages.


Dimensions In Charity

Charity is  kind of help
which expects no reward.
being the belief  which 
all of us seem to be  familiar.

It is a right  about turn 
where philanthropy 
circumvents on transactions
a means to earn revenue.

Capitation, payment for appointments,
 extracurricular fees run into millions
in educational institutions, virtually
the foundation  that runs them grows fat.

When a time arises for support
 these come forward with donations
 either in kind or cash,all too liberally
signifying a large heartedness.

Instances of such extensions 
 flash in media creating  a batch of messiahs.
Those being concerned about society 
and its  misery,    


Loose Jacket

As days go by
the internal part  locks 
nerves  become stiff
bones  rigid,
joints twist,
muscles  inert,

while the exterior
loosens in a gusto..
sagging skin surfaces.
eyes droop. in fatigue,
teeth fall, in succession,
expansion pronounced

in the middle,
ears remain intact,
marked by diminished hearing,
 intra ocular lens get fitted to the eyes
 can find  the frozen internal  clothed  
 in an unfitting  over sized  jacket.

Someone bellows.
“there walks an aged human
masked with falsities”.