The Song

Nightingale sings

It is early morn.

The chirp swings

heralds a dawn


It Is History

“Ahimsa is my weapon”
says Gandhi. Tolerates
humiliation, sets aside violence
gets beaten, faces arrests,
never once insinuated
by the atrocities.

Marches to Dandi, Salt satyagraha
settles in Sabarmathi ashram
lives like an aesthetic. Spins
cloth, introduces khadi,
instils the desi spirit.
Gandhi engages.

He tours the country
pauses in Madurai.
at his friend’s
Karumuttu Thiagarajan
and his wife Visalakshi’s
home. Gandhi enjoys.

Visalakshi serves dinner
gifts a loincloth
to the leader who stares
at the cloth for a second.
Visalakshi smiles. Innocence
overlaps, A transformation.

Next moment Gandhi ties
the cloth around his waist,
removes his shirt, a perfect
picture of the Indian farmer.
Churchill’s “half naked fakir”
is born. The rest is history,

A gentle reference, have to make,
being their granddaughter, I
miss Karumuttu Thiagarajan a lot,
with whom I had been close,
never had seen grandma
Visalakshi, the noble lady.