Categories
thoughts

Holidays


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.

 

 

 

 

 

Categories
thoughts

Meaningless Jab


Something is missing
I do not know what it is
I seek and strive
 nothing comes out in five.

Something has gone wrong
I do not know what it could be
I try and explore
 nothing comes out in four.

It is something that throbs
I do not know what it is
I  attempt to flee
nothing comes out in three.

It is something that oppresses
I do not  know what it could be 
I search to find the clue
nothing comes out in two,

Something lets me down
I do not know what it is
I feel I am done
Nothing comes out in one.

Categories
thoughts

Wet Clothes Off Season


The drizzle and the rain
 the light shower  and heavy downpour
 intermittent and lasting
 make the days essentially chaotic.

With the sun always raging high
wet  clothes  are hung  in the exterior 
 ensuring   a quicker  dry up, this 
seasonal break outs render a curb.

Clouds gather in haste , the sky 
grows dark, a prelude to rains
being visible, I stand in my backyard
 assessing the  weather.

With a pail of washed clothes in one hand,
I  step in and out pushing ‘the door ajar  with the other
not wishing to spread them in the cloth strings
 that  crosses my enclosed  backyard.

I might sound foolish to many of you but that is how I am made off, an exposure to warmth,  I feel, drives the moisture away.  extends a freshness,a straightening , an appearance  of grandeur.
the starched clothes 

Categories
thoughts

Still Night


The clock strikes 10,
The stillness, the night 
turning pitch dark turns 
 me sleepy

Brushing aside the slumber
 I sit  staring at the sky
absolutely black 
with no stars twinkling.

it is great, I sense 
 a feel of tranquility 
a sort of peace, one 
of joy,

While the external  grows
 thicker in darkness
 an enlightenment  strikes 
 I straighten up in anxiety.

The perfect silence
instructs me to be modest,
 moderate, not to succumb
 to the chaotic bustle,I am in.  

Categories
thoughts

Days And Months


Few days here 
few days there
  hits me hard,

been used to months 
living  in one country
rest in another,

months have turned to days
 shuttling here and there
 takes the life out of me

oscillating like a pendulum
 I switch places all the more
 reacting to the aching  jolts 

jostling with a fierce drive
 one of   an undying passion
 that makes me die almost.

the  fun I experienced
 becomes a desperation
resulting in an undue fatigue.

Well,  this being  the  life of mine 
for decades, I cross 
the years with an expectation,

a little close to  success 
leading to a satisfaction
 and joy beyond explanation.

Categories
thoughts

Anonymity


The day drawing to a close 
leaves me in chaos.
Knowing not what to do next
 I put forth a pretext.

Camouflaging my ignorance
I  show up my preference
being the one for  peace
allowing   a fresh lease.

Circumscribing  to the situation
 hatred converges with desperation
each one accusing the other in a row
could have lead to  fierce blows,

My intervention dispels intimidation
in a way proposes an hasten
to quell the confusion
arising out of contention.

Receiving applauds for my task
 I walk quietly into the dark
wishing an anonymity as always.

Categories
thoughts

Swinging


The swing in the garden
 left unattended years together
 creaks and croaks  as the wind blows.,
 not being oiled and wiped for long.

Gone are the days when it used to be the pride
 swinging  with head held high 
up and down it flew in speed
 making the least noise.

One day a fluffy cat cuddles 
 slips into slumber as the swing
 oscillates gently,  The swing adjusts 
a meek acceptance anyway.

The next day, I find a flock of birds
 perched on either side
cackling and chirping 
dropping excreta  everywhere.

The coveted swing hosts 
 different species extending 
a let go attitude,  The virtue learnt
 in the most hardest means.

 

Categories
thoughts

Regardless


Brewing Assam grown tea  leaves
mixing with boiled cow’s milk
 fresh from the farm
adding  2 teaspoons of sugar
 I serve.

I see the steam from the cup
rising steady, being  so hot
 makes sipping impossible.
Having done, I attend to 
 my other chores.

This being in the morning, and 
at four in the evening,
I am beckoned. A warning, I receive.
 “remember, to give me 
hot tea”, 

Surprised at the instruction, 
I throw a sharp look at him,
 he being no other than 
my husband,  I resolve 
to wheel the stove 

to where he is and prepare 
tea, even then he would 
complain. That is how 
I am treated with no concern 
or consideration.

Categories
thoughts

Chuckling


 The  gifts of gold plated roses,,
baskets  of  Palmyra  leaves, wooden 
play  things. may seem different,
unusual from what the  majority 
 engage,  I might appear insane 

My eccentricity surfaces while
I explain the significance,
Rose symbolizes endurance
as it sits over thorns,. The 
soft petals remain unharmed.
The hard sheaths of Palmyra
twisted and turned  creating a pattern,
appropriate for  a basket, a hand made fan,
talk of sustainability. as the tree 
survives even in drought.

The forgotten  games
 played on the wooden 
make over  illustrate 
the natural forms 
causing no harm

both to the environment 
and the participants,  unlike the 
rubber and plastic ones.
demonstrate  mental
agility, a perfection 
in arithmetic.

I hear people giggle 
behind me,  unfazed
I go about with my  practice
each occasion  demands
a characteristic endowment.

Categories
thoughts

Wish To Be Like You


A cuckoo calls every morning
 hearing her cry incessantly
 articulates ” Meena, Meena”
I open my eyes reluctantly,

Unable to bearher cry  I shout 
“coming,,coming”,  gathering myself
I descend the stairs., walk straight 
into the garden,

I see through the hedges,
 look through the branches
 trying  desperately to find her
 fail to locate however much I attempt.

Her sharp solicitation permeates
 I replicate her call, she quickly responds
 without showing herself.  ” Oh! no!”
 I go to my newspapers..

read  the  day’s events,
pandemonium in the parliament,
 head on collision in the highway,
business propositions, investment opportunities

medals tally in Tokyo Olympics,
oblivious of the cuckoo. Folding 
the papers, I enter the parlour
 the shrill cry of the bird turns pronounced.

It continues through the morning,
listening to her on and off,  
 amidst my chores, I quietly
 sing, ” wish to be like you”.

Categories
thoughts

The More Mundane I Turn


Every month it is the same
with bills coming in
salary to be paid
an exercise that 
will last through 
the first week,

Working like a clerk
I enter and check
 deduct the advances 
count the notes twice
fearing  that I will overpay 
by few hundreds.

Settling  quick
 I start my present month’s
 procurement, writing them
 in detail and entering them 
in ledgers, tallying input and output.
 the trial balance  is a trial.

it so happens, I flop  every time, 
either the credit  is excess
or else the debit 
outscores the credit. I do 
a vigorous check, finally
 land in a soup.

Life goes on  in such a way 
where every single expenditure 
has to be accounted  it is caution
that withholds my interest.
Never could  I spend as I like.
Wonder, if it is a curse.