Month: August 2016

Categories
thoughts

Fusion-Blood and Beauty


Silence rules
beauty reigns
quite and solemn
Jammu and Kashmir
looks most times.

A bomb explodes somewhere,
dispels the calm.
The unexpected
militant insurgency
destroys peace.

The beautiful land
lies in a pool of blood
death stares.

An interval
nothing amiss  for a while.

The enchantment resumes
the valley looks glorious.

Stays not for long.
Again a conflict,
threat and struggle
scary it turns.

A distortion
beyond comprehension.
A scar indelible irks.
Innocence is ravaged.

A permutation and combination
defying every rule of nature.
The accord and discord
being an ironic hyperbole.

Jammu and Kashmir is a mix
of blood spilled over
and blossoms  strewn
with a fragrance – a fusion

Categories
thoughts

Fire


Unseen harsh fire
spreads in every direction
evacuating people.

Not in hot regions as known
recent episodes reveal
they happen in cold countries.

A few months back in Canada
Fort MCMurray burned
California experiences fire
hard to put down.

Categories
thoughts

The Way I Shop.


Long I am enchanted
by the mother of pearl
embedded in furniture
Happened to see one
while I was travelling.

It must be in Singapore, I think
I hopped off the bus
saw on the display
a beautiful piece of art.
I crossed the road
at the instant,
not minding the honking
heard one of the drivers
curse me crying out
“Oh, bodoh apa yang kamau buat?”

The centrepiece was
lovely and exquisite
inlaid with mother of pearl
the motif being a peacock
dancing away to glory.

A coincidence:
One of my friends
called me from China
said she knows a manufacturer
who makes beautiful furniture.

Delighted, I asked her to buy
what all she likes
afraid not of the price.

She did as told
and a whole set of furniture
arrived home soon after.
She did as told
and a whole set of furniture
arrived. home soon after.
I am blessed
my friends, and protege
shop for me
keeping in mind my taste.

Categories
thoughts

Reading Ramayana


Reading the Ramayana,
whenever and wherever I can
is the way of my life.

I read with a fervour.
I am the happy Sita, once
picking flowers and playing with Rama.

I read with expressions
resemble a distressed  Sita
pining for Rama in the Asoka Vana.

At times, I take the cue of Ravana,
speak like him a thunderous voice
shaking the  ten heads.

Fastidious as it would be,
I  jump like Hanuman
cross the seas in a felicity.

I fight like Rama
shoot with a bow and arrow
pronounce the Brahmasthiram.

I imitate Lakshmana.
He being a personification
of faithfulness,  Stand
erect and watchful
beside Rama.

Ramayana  is beatitude
and  bliss conjoined.
Reading the epic  is a fulfillment
beyond comprehension.

Categories
thoughts

Sega’s Way.


A process is going on
for twenty years
Can it ever see the light?

Whom I am to blame?
I am disappointed
my eyes  are fixed on the ground.

Sega conducts as he likes.
He is  not very knowledgeable
knows not how to conclude
leaves no space to any other.

He manipulates and interprets
the accounts and words respectively’
as he  understands
befitting his acumen.

Been authorised by the deceased
he is uncontrollable by law,
continues unopposed.

He contrives a winning smile
looks cunning and wary
I sigh and tell myself,
How long could this be?

Categories
thoughts

The Silent Splendour


The Aalamaram (Banyan tree)
spreads its branches
that touch the ground.
in a sign of gratitude
shown to the soil,
which nurtures its growth.

A paradox:
the grandeur beguiles
the humility.

A phenomenon:
the growth of the tree,
the transformation,
as seen during the seasons
explicitly in the leaves
as they turn
green, red and finally yellow
present a colourful diaspora
that astounds.

A benevolence:
The tree, as seen ,
serves as a playground for the kids,
a resting place for the travellers,
a shelter from the elements.

A munificence:
provides a habitation for the birds,
insects and the rodents
extending:security within its branches
protecting nests within its clusters.

A philanthropy:
bears fruits and nuts
feeding the birds
supplementing Man’s diet.

A Splendour:
The silence, it invokes
between the occasional rustle
and the wind prone ruffle
releases an awe
all too inspiring.

 

Categories
thoughts

The Days Of Joy.


My heart leaps up when I behold
Midway through their lunch
the children hear a roaring
and in a pied-piper rush
hurry pell-mell towards the rumble.

Low it soars.
“Aeroplane, Aeroplane”,
they exclaim, jumping
with joy.

Thrilled, they follow
the flight to as far as able.

Brief it is,
yet their excitement flows through
eyes beaming with glee,
clapping hands, whistling and cheering.

Infectious, their elation
that lingers in the buoyant lunchroom

as the energized children gobble
to beat the bell that rings
after the clock soon strikes one,

and finds the aeroplane has flown far and away.

 

Categories
thoughts

Genomes.


The similarities strike.
The mother, daughter, granddaughter
the chain of evolution:
finds a coherence in relativity
assumes a coordination in depth.

An impact,
the mother and daughter,
look alike: a profile of the two
sets the tone.
The curve is exact. The mother shows a droop.
while the daughter displays an adroit.

An influence,
the character sends a signal. Relying on the virtual,
the unflinching courage emerges.
The junior is dashing.
The senior portrays a moderation. Perhaps,
mellowed by age and experience.

The gestures, as apparent, bear an emphatic likeness.
The cameo,
the way the older one engages: twists her two fingers
places them on her lips when pensive. Vivid in my memory
The younger one knowingly or unknowingly keeps alive
this tradition.
Amazed to find the grandchild sit in a similar posture.

The fingers placed over the lips resemble a mudra ,
a quaint, but a stylish abhinaya

Knowing both of them intimately, I am amazed.
The mother is dead and gone.
She comes back with a bang through her daughter, who unassumingly
proliferates the maternal idiosyncracies.

Surprised to observe the semblance in the grandchild.

True,
the genes are predominant.
This being,
an evidence supporting the genomes.

Categories
thoughts

Life is But A Dream.


Ever drifting down the stream–
Lingering in the golden gleam–
Life, what is it but a dream?
Lewis Carroll.

Taunts
do not dissuade Veda.
Hurts deep
leave no scar.

Veda: exudes confidence
accepts kindness with good grace,
cruelty with equanimity,
bears humiliation with fortitude,
emerges unscathed.

Her inimitable drive
to acquire knowledge
together with
her passion for writing
wins her honour.

She has a vision, a perception
that looks to the stars;
when her peers
fix eyes in the dust.

Ever hopeful, she
never loses heart;
laments not for the lost
cherishes what is at hand.

She accepts life
with a twinkle in her eyes
quotes,
kayil ullathu aayiram kodi 
that which is in hand is worth
billions.
“Loyalty be thy name!” Veda,
A secret wish,  always
never do we part”.

A revised version.

Categories
thoughts

My Mother’s Kitchen


“Homemade food is the best.”
a lesson taught by mother
remains strong in my mind.

She had a retinue of cooks
who prepared all she wanted,
especially, what all her children demanded.

Her kitchen was evenly poised.
Quantity and quality juxtaposed.

She trained her cooks, sent them to cookery classes,
read out to them the recipes.
Her kitchen was a laboratory,
a venue where different cuisines took shape
The paniyarams, chutneys and puliyodharai
notwithstanding the samosas and the salads
were made with diligence.The aroma filled the kitchen.
Traditional ones were improvised.
Colours were worked out with skill.

Eggs could never make a foray into her kitchen,
she being a born vegetarian. Eggless cakes
were baked. They were such a delight to us, the kids.

Born in such an environment, I too stick to the old rule.
It continues unknowingly,
passed on to my children as well.

Not fortunate like Mom, I managed the show
with a single cook. Tutored him from the basics.
He mastered the culinary expertise in earnest.
He is a stellar performer.
He is the chef in the sophisticated
“The Oberoi” in New Delhi.
My kitchen is back to me with all its strength.
I slog and scour, day in and day out,
being a lover of tasty food
and a stickler for cleanliness.