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.








it is a long day
tasks keep me occupied
from dawn to dusk,

Breathless I turn
sighing for rest scouting 
 for a place to relax and enjoy.

A place where I can sit
gazing at the  blue sky 
that alone, nothing more

That seems remote
 like the sky  far away
alluring and ebbing

simultaneously. akin to
building castles in the air
 groping for something

which is not there.. I am 
not zealous to reach 
the space. I require

solitude, To remain aloof 
from   know and unknown
it seems a wish out of reach.



Six, Seven, Eight, Nine And Ten Go

It is hectic, tiring.
vulnerability at every corner
while  seeking an alliance,  
searching  brides and bridegrooms.
The exercise turns unpleasant.

Status stands out with a glitter
reputation turns silvery.
wealth dazzles like a diamond,
 qualification takes the cue 
from iron,, looks  matter the least,

Fixing with permutations
 and combinations  placements 
of Rashis  in twelve houses  play truant
 while matching the horoscopes, where 
grades speak.

Six out of ten is good, 
seven and and eight fare better,
 nine and ten like the good fat hen,
 are the best. considerations.
 anything less than six is disqualified, 

 Comparisons within the community 
of one hundred thousand.

Another one intercepts 
that of Gothra , Marriages 
within  the same section
 being disallowed,  Weddings 
 wait for ratifications  from elders.

 Meantime, boy becomes  man, girls 
cross the child bearing age,
 reach  forties before they tie the knot,
Invisible as it is births dwindle, 
Numbers fall steep, saddening.!


Lost In His World

As if I am deaf, a relative of mine
explains his  breakfast he just had,.
Full throated blast. The decibels, if recorded,
will range in the upper limit 

His voice echoes sonorous, windows 
and door rock and tremble 
 the furniture rattles, imagine 
the state of my ears which folds and shuts.

He  continues  in high pitch
blaming his host who had hired 
a second class chef to cook
breakfast for the housewarming.

He shows a tiny  cup
with halwa, having carefully 
kept in his pocket, Idli, hard 
like a stone, vada   soggy,

sambhar insipid  he shouts 
 with disgust,  idlis 
fly, Vadas  jump, sambhar 

Riotous, I exclaim, Annoyed 
casting  a glance at him,
 I  move out  stealthily,  he 
continues unabated, seems 
lost in his world. 



Hanuman Val

A brief review of the work,
cost accounting, in a sense
 tabulating the material 
 against the work done
 keeps me  freaking.

i calculate, redo,
 could not tally both
the one overlaps the other
Curse  the software,
.for my erroneous application

The performance lags 
while the substance rises
a direct hit on the revenue
 a  straight loss so to say,
What to do?

I set aside the balancing
 my mind throbs,
 places me in an anvil
fear of loss circumvents.
 My  head whirls.

Pain follows,  I stay  nonplussed,
“Not being of great value”,
 I console myself,   the mind chimes, 
 ” whatever  it is”.   Oh ! Shiva, eh !  Krishna.
 I  scream  turning  towards the sky. 

Brief has become lengthy,
 as we say in  the vernacular
 ”  Hanuman val”. I go 
in circles,  My eyes 
stay fixed. How  and when
did they close?  I do not know.


River And I

The adjustments I have to make
 nodding at almost every happening,
 smiling  at each incident
 accepting the one, reconciling 
with the other, marks the 
close of the hours.

Like or dislike I get along
without rubbing or scratching
 Arguing is not my cup of tea
I sail in timid  waters which do 
not know to ebb and overturn.
 I   never cross the jurisdiction.

Earlier life was tempestuous
 ups and downs kept me  tied.
 I refuted,  argued, screamed
creating a mess, halting  the  natural 
 passage.. Wisdom dawns as I age
I continue my journey 
like a river, gurgling 
with joy.


It Is Gone

The restaurant near me,
 not near, to be exact, 
the adjacent one, in the north
 came up all in a sudden
 two months ago.

My front area got filled 
with aroma of cooking. 
 I have termed it wrong,
 it is not aroma, an irritating  smell
 that gets into your nose.

 The backyard is a recipient
of a ghastly odour from the leftovers 
 thrown mindlessly.. and from the  water
 used to clean the utensils  forms a pool
does not flow into the drain. 

Oh! no, the drain does not exist.

 I dare not go the north part of my house.
confining myself to the southern portions,
 Yesterday, I discovered, the eatery 
has been wound up,, like the way it came.
I stay blessed.



A Super Critic

Bossing, commanding,
 mumbling, calling 
every other  one foolish,
brainless, is
 how he conducts 
himself recently.

He criticizes the cook 
having not  ignited 
the stove, once, He finds fault
 with  masons ,carpenters
 officials. His wife being 
the most targeted.

He will conclude saying
 if he has handled, 
the result would have been
 exemplary, excellent.
I stand  a little away, watch him.
 His superiority  is boundless.

He has been likewise all along,
 a long innings though 
without any one opposing,
 It is near impossibility
to make him realize his shortcomings. 
which  are too many.


Anand At The Helm

It is the question of permanence
that keeps coming to my mind.

How many of us  realize this truth?
 one two, three go my fingers.

I hear about a man named  Anand
 who clings to his position.

not achieved by any skill
got through by  wealth.

For decades he holds the post
 tries to pass it on to his son,

It is an honorary one, conferred 
by governance, a recognition

of his family’s contribution to society.
the architect being his father.

Fortunate to be born in such a family
 he becomes  great, greatness being thrusted .

A general displeasure prevails,. A silent 
revolution is going on,

Anand would be thrown out 
if he does not resign.

Resign he will not.
He is inebriated. with ego.


2021 – 24 X7

7 months old 2021 
moves in great speed.
Days become nights 
and nights days.

24X 7 at home, I walk 
to the front yard return 
to the backdoor, oscillating 
like a pendulum,

 Up and down I climb
traverse  the garden
stand in the sun. rotation 
and revolution sets pace.

Time flies during pandemic, 
jumps while  epidemic loom,  
rolls through endemic,
minding not the gravity.

 Another event, rains  come and go
 incidental  for the sun,  shines and settles
 as if  indebted, the moon  waxes and wanes
 no matter what happens. 

Men dash out in haste
catch the infection’ in a close
seek admission in hospitals. 
Death creeps stealthily.



I close my eyes while I talk 
unaware of what happens around.

Do not know when and how 
I got this.  Looks  strange,

 I have seen  my mother do
this, exactly the same way.

 With eyes shut, putting 
my finger in the ear hole,

to keep away from the bustle,
I listen to  a presentation.

My cook calls me ” amma, amma,”
I stay unaware,

Someone grabs my arm.  indignant
 I scream.  “How  dare you touch me?”. 

My husband  encapsulating  my arm,  
stares hard. Infuriated  I shout.

The cook vanishes while we 
throw tantrums at each other.