Monthly Archives: October 2018

The Blue Plymouth


It is vacation.
We go to Coonoor,
a quiet town in the Nilgiris.

Mother and the six of us
travel in a blue plymouth
early in the morning.

Have breakfast under a big neem tree
after a two hour drive.  The “idlis”
with chutney appease our hunger.

The hills appear. We negotiate
each hairpin  bend slowly
while two of us  turn sick.

The driver halts.To ease
our nausea we take a stròll.
Once we are better the journey  resumes.

We cross Sims Park,  pass Pasteur Institute,
drive through Porter’s Avenue .  Our Bungalow
Mostyn Park stands majestic.

Tired, we have a quick shower
devour the roti and potatoes
and in a moment fall into a slumber.

The very next day we go up the hills,
roll in the grass, a pony ride awaits,
climb the plum tree.

Mom has a large garden. The sprawling lawns
and the flower beds win Governor’s trophy.
The kitchen garden cliinches the rolling shield.

We eat a lot, turn rosy and grow sideways.
It is time to go back as the schools will reopen.
The blue plymouth comes to the porch.

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It Is In My Home


the peacocks dance,

round and round they go,

hop and jump, trot and pause

step up and step down

spread their turquoise feàther

flourscent it shines. The blue  hue

in the neck, a contrast to the glitter

moderates the eye catching glory.

pick and peck, loiter and chatter

a lively presence all the more.

 

It is in my home,

the crows caw in the morning

black  and blue they  roam

grabs  the insects, clear the garden

of pests.  A friend though not

beautiful.

 

It is in my home

the cats stealthily climb

walk on the wall, cast

a sly look on me.  Brown

and white  stripes prominent

watch my home all the day.

 

It is in my home,

the sparrows, one, two

and three come swiping down

chirp and cackle, fly low and high.

 

It is in my home, I live

do not hear the shouts

and laughter of my sons,

nor see them play, cycle

and  cry ” Ma, I am hurt,

I have won, I am the Champion”.

 

It is in my home

I long to see them

nestle close to me.

 

 

 

 

 

WhatsApp Degraded


The meesages

I find in WhatsApp

from people not learned

bewilders.

 

Those who do not know

the fundamentals post

numerous info. Discover

they are mere uploads.

 

What fun do they have?

Filling without understanding.

Ask them to interpret.

They will look at you.

 

Many will not know to read.

They continue the forwarding

with zeal. Create groups

It turns cheap.

 

Applications are developed

for meaningful interactions.

Never to copy and paste.

Technology  is abused.

It Is Terrible


The shift of weather

rainy, wet, cold

to dry, desert like warmth

sweeps through the town.

Unpredictable.

 

The day before rains were heavy.

Now the sun shines bright.

Oh! the vagaries of nature

keep one in apprehension

 

 

What could be next?

Earthquakes in Indonesia,

floods in Kerala,

hurricane in Florida

 

Hundreds die.

Thousands lose their shelter.

Many children orphaned.

Aged left helpless.

 

It is saddening.

Heart wrenching.

Whom to blame?

Who should be accused?

 

 

 

Bits And Pieces


The day draws to a close.

Nothing much happened.

It  is the weekend.

Ĺethargy sets in.

 

The rains have gone on leave.

May come with a thump

on Monday.

 

Ĺanguishing   I take a stroll.

The lane is empty.  Quietness.

I am alone in the world, I feel.

It is peace. The one called

solititude.

 

Once in a week, I experience

such a harmony. No noise

either external or internal.

The body is at rest, so does

the mind.

 

Monday starts with a gusto.

Resume with a flourish.

It is move everywhere,

with the rains in force.

A phenomenon.

 

The mental derivatives

that hid under the cloud

instigate and agitate

a restlessness settles.

Ìnfectious.

 

With haste I perform,

the legs not in one place.

Do I execute with perfection?

Not to the exact. I do a few.

Might turn  a Creation.

 

 

My Memory


Have a cruel memory.

A boon and a bane.

I remember  dates and time

Vivid pictures of the events

flow as in a slide show.

 

They bring both pleasant

and disturbing thoughts.

The more I wish to forget,

the more they augument.

 

Forgetfulness  surfaces

as one gets old, Perhaps

I am an exception,

I seem not to lose track.

 

With a sharp memory

I live. A blessing, I

would say.  A gift, a reward

I can go on, being a recollection

of words I learnt  in school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Travelogue


Intact and fastened  I fly.  Of late, sleep overtakes me whenever I travel, be it any mode of transport. Once the vehicle gains momentum I lose myself. I am in deep slumber.  Woken by the gentle call of the hostess, I look around and could not relate to the circumstances that brought me here. I accept the vegan meals served. Take a bite. Then   Iremember the snacks I had packed  w hich is in the cloth bag. I get up and pull the bag out. Devour the crunchy snacks.  The flight is quiet except for occasional walk throughs.

I resume the siesta. In the middle  wake up to an announcement. Thecplane will land in another twenty minutes. “Oh! Where I am heading to?”. I am dazed. Try to recollect the events that have led to this journey.  However much  I attempt  I cannot makec out.

The plane  descends. The pilot manouevers and lands with discreet ease. We diembark and march our way to the Immigration. Standing in the queue I once again take efforts to find out the reasons for my long travel. Before I could reach the tangible clue, the officer shouts, “Next”. I  cross the yellow line. The officer looks at me. HIS eyes twinkle and I perceive a smile which progresses to a guffaw. ” My lady, what are you doing in this part of the world?”. I smile. He continues, “Do you know English?”.  I nod. He retorts,  “you do not know to say yes, but have come to this land from India all alone.”. I realise only now that I had flown by myself, Again I  smile at him. Annoyed mumbles and looks at my passport. Says ” I cannot deny entry as the credentials  are perfect”. I thank him  inchaste English. It is my chance to return his derogation .

I  move towards the gate. Blind to where Ihave to go. It is midnight. The wind is heavy. I  wrap myself with pallu of my saree. The cold bites. Few yards away, I spot an Accor Hotel. Fortunate to check in, I have a quick shower. The bath enboldens and I sleep with the heater on.

The sun peeps through the windows. I prepare for the adventure. The city, I am in, is Melbourne. I vacate my room and at the porchI switch on the Wys application, track the places to visit.Pushing my box I catch the tram and off I go.  The tram ride  is an experience. I visit the Botanical gardens, then witness a cricket test match  in Melbourne  cricket Stadium. In the evening sat by the Yarra river.The serenity is imposing.

The Great Ocean Drive fascinate.  The scenario with the hills  and sea on either side delivers  a rhapsodical exuberance. The twelve apostles stand in the sea. They seem to  preach. The Philiph Island is beautiful. The entry of the penguins, from the depths,invigorates. They rush in pairs, in dozens, in scores and finalyy hundreds.

Great! I  am done. Have explored Melbourne without any help. I is a blind expedition.

Traversed without an idea. Completed the trip with a purpose.

That be me. That is Meena. I have achieved.

#TheBlindList and #Say YesToTheWorld