All For Water.

The river Cauvery flows in silence.
Hears not the pandemonium
listens not to the turbulence
she flows without a murmur.

The riots and upheavals
the slogans and shouts
cause chaos unbelievable
peace takes leave.

Buses are stoned
Effigies of leaders burnt.
Shops are abandoned.
Life is paralysed.

The neighbours turn foes
Karnataka, the giver, is in flames
The angry mob sets fire to buses
with Tamilnadu registrations.

Cauvery flows without abating
and falls into the ocean in Poompuhar,
a historic hamlet in Tamilnadu state.

The courts from the highest to the lowest
intervene and pass referendums
which are followed in the least
leading to death and loss.

Unperturbed, the mighty river
flows happily with a tweet and a chirp
irrigating thousands of hectares
while the onslaught continues.

A House Turns Into A Home.

A house is a house
with bricks and mortar
becomes a home
with fun and frolic.The structure of stones
starts to breathe life
when the family moves in
it begins to echo the bustle.

The doors open out
and close as eyelids
a let out for the good
a shut out for the bad.

The windows go with the elements
they take in the breeze
and send out the heat
a friendly application they are.

The halls reverberate
with the chimes of happiness
they too record
the tears of sadness.

The private chambers needless to say
silently bear testimony
to the intimacy
and the squabbles.

The kitchen burns and heaves
pots of porridge and rice
get cooked all day
never it rests.

The family grows
as does the house
the one becomes big
the other turns ancient .

Memories rush and crowd
the human mind
the activities gorge in
flood the house.

The house as I feel
is an alternate to man
he lives and dies
while it lingers for years.


Bastion Of Chauvinists.

In the morning,

happenings in the kitchen.

The rice boils
the vegetables are steamed
The broth simmers
the clock chimes
eight times.

The school bus honks
the child, Shreya, is in the toilet.
Her mom,Sneha, knocks the door
cries aloud. “Shreya”.

Sneha runs to the bus
beseeches and pleads
the driver smiles, a kind man.
She pulls the little one out
pushes her into the bus.

The father, Ramu, reads unruffled
listens not to the wife’s shouts
nor to Shreya’s cries
his eyes are on “The Hindu”.( A newspaper)

A picture of the Indian household as such,
mind, not the centuries or generations
always chaos suppresses the women
peace crowns the men.

The man is glorified.
His wife is belittled
That is my India:
a bastion for chauvinists.

Aadi Perukku

On the eighteenth day of Adi
we celebrate the onset of monsoon
a happy time of cooling rain to feed the crops.

Women flock to the river.Young girls perform the puja,
offer kadholai, kapparisi, and karugumani
to be blessed with good husbands.

River Cauvery is personified as a girl.
She swirls in a pradikshina enters
the temple dancing in an ecstasy.

She washes the portals of the Srirangam temple
touches the entrance. Withdraws
seeing Lord Renganatha in ananthasayanam

He is relaxing, Rests his head on the left hand
while his body is recumbent on the serpent
Adisesha in the sea of cosmic dissolution.

The Lord watches Kaveri’s play:
The waters ebb and flow. He condescends.
Beckons her to come near him.

She enters the sanctum in awe.
Pays obeisance and beseeches his blessing.
Pleads for a gift.

Twitching his eyebrows, he quips.
“Why do you ask for a gift from me
while devotees shower bounties on you?”

“Anna, do not pretend. Your gift
is a treasure. She kneels before him
her head in a bow.

He laughs with a guffaw.
” Come, my child, come, near”.
Places the Sadari on her head.

She wants more- a gift. Silently
he presses a coin in her palm
She is overjoyed.

The coin shines. The luminosity
is brilliant. The coin grows heavy
in the course of the day. Mystical.
Kaveri is blessed.

She fears to turn back.
Retreats facing Renganatha. His grace overwhelms.
Silence is the melody.

She circumambulates along with the devotees.
The rumble of the river echoes in the
Srirangam temple. An ecstatic cry
Govinda, Govinda resonates.

“Pallandu,pallandu pallayirath aandu
Pala koti noor ayiramMallanda thin tholl manivanna.”

The lyric of Periyalwar flows with charm:
an ecstatic exuberance-
being the golden mean of blissfulness.

As They Are.

The tree is a splendour
with a wonderful structure
great and grand in stature
evokes a wonder.

The branches grow
not in a row
erratic they are
spread very far.

The tall trees like the palms
seem to reach the sky
stand erect and calm
an exactness, seem not to lie.

The wider ones the oak and the neem
majestic in their outfits
of leaves and fruits shine with a gleam
display a grace that befits.

Think not what they extend.
See their size and the posture
which enchant and befriend
and bewitch in a rapture.

Clothed From Top To Toe

Clothed from top to toe
not, a little skin seen
she has no foe
nor she is keen.

Clothed from top to toe
even during warm days
she is very slow
never in a chase.

Clothed from top to toe
she walks a distance
none in a follow
into the forest dense.

Clothed from top to toe
she attends classes
without a glow
learning being a farce.

Clothed from top to toe
she sings a song
with a flow
keeps singing for long

Meenu Learns Dance.

My granddaughter, Meenu,
is  graceful in  her moves
learns dance with a passion.
Primarily, her steps are a proof
thaia, thakka, thaia thakka”
she memorises them with a rhythm
as her feet  strikes in cadence with the” jathi.”

She sings the hymns melodiously
expresses the theme with a “sruthi”
her eyes reveal the “bhavas”  beautifully.

I am enchanted  by her graceful movements
watching her from a  distance
cautious of not being found by her.
My son whispers to me to be quiet.

She is a six-year-old, tender and pretty
wants not  to dance before me.
Placing her in my lap  I coax her with a candy.
ask her “why do you refuse to dance for me?” She hugs me with love
“granny, you mastered dance long  ago.I wish to  perfect the skill.
I would prove my mettle with a stellar performance.”

Saying she left me gazing
not,with a march or a run, as usual.
She glided nimbly dancing
“thaia thakka
“a captivating one all so casual