It is Rains

It is been a day
where the rain plays

It comes and goes
enacts a spoil

I climb down the steps
walk towards the gate
rain strolls behind.

Rushing back more or less
wet, I wipe myself dry.
The pour pauses

Sighing I walk again
this time crossing the lane
the showers beat me heavily..

I turn back almost soaked.
change my dress, dry my hair
decide not to venture out.

The sun comes up from behind
the day turns sunny and bright
no more rain

Fooled, I am at home
having missed an important
interview, one that could
have changed my life.


Swamy Breaks The Idols

destroys the temples
speaks ill of religion
says “only dumb idiots
believe in God”.

Hailing from a family of purohits,
Swami’s father, Ishwar, is a Vedic
scholar, traces his ancestry
to the Surya vamsa

The forefathers performed
ashvamedha yajna, one of the royal rituals
of Sanatan Dharma. His wife
and father unable to bring
him back to God, cry in silence.

Swamy, a race car driver,
crashes into a bridge,
falls into a trench lies unconscious
with multiple fractures.

He survives but remains crippled.
His dad chants the mantra
Lakshar faraun hardi neel
Garkh Shuddha jahan!

Swamy recovers. He returns
to faith, turns a believer.
A resurrection takes place.
Swamy is born again



The mattress is hot to touch
the pillow turns equally warm,
the walls emit unusual heat,
while the wind through the
windows is humid.

I wet the floor to keep
the heat low, the damp tiles
send out a coolness. I lie
on the bare floor, use
my hand as a pillow.

doze off in no time,
The afternoons reel hot
in peak summer when
the mercury crosses 103
degrees most days,

Air Conditioners fail
so do the electric fans,
None can compete with
the raging sun, a disbelief
but very true so to say

pure cotton dresses

and the bare floor provide

the required respite.


My Fat Aunt

An aunt of mine
cheerful and cherubic
holds no grudge against anyone,
altogether a noble soul.

She is obese, extraordinarily
huge, short, blunt,
a bag of flesh,
bulging and hanging

as much as possible.
She walks, moves,
squats, lies on the floor
does with ease.

She ties her hair loosely
a string of jasmine adorn
her kondai. wears bright
coloured sarees

design blouses
complete her outfit
decks herself with
jewels matching.

rubies go with red saree,
emeralds with green one.
other pastel shades go
with diamonds, precisely selected,

not educated, nor
informative, in short naive
aunt leads a carefree life
without any plan.

her husband dotes on her
while her children grow
cared by dad alone
turn responsible,

while two of them fall behind
in discipline, she does not bother.
it is not her custom to gossip,
nor pass comments.

Her body mass does not poses
an issue does not mind other’s
talk of her size and attitude,
her toothless smile compensates for the rest.

Her goodness glistens, her
innocence grants an unexpected
loveliness, as she stands tall
amongst her well read relations.


Move And Stay

One which goes on
moves with a force.

That which stays on
remains without a push.

Movement is energetic
like the rain and river

in full flow, Similar
the grass and roses,

grow in strength, a graceful
synergy one of prosperity.

Static is lethargy, where
stagnation extends

a lull, noticeably nothing
happens, a stillness

akin to vacuum, an alignment
to inaction, not an encouragement.


Man Made

Day dawns, night descends
the world goes on with rain
and sun.

Dogs bark, cats mew,
donkeys bray and loiter
as free as ever.

Birds chirp, tweet,
pick and peck
fly ‘with the a vigour.

Man stays at home,
wants to be safe,
to keep away Corona


Sounds Unhealthy

The all know attitude
from the one I am familiar
makes me angry most,
tickles to death as well.

Fussy and snobbish
they comment
on every task
one undertakes,

Illiterate in cooking
they engage in criticizing
and commenting, Not a matter
as food has to be tasty,

talk about cutting the veggies,
the procedure, the method,
in a manner that one
acquires a strain.

Same indulgence is found
in other creative undertakings
especially writing, finding flaws
when there are none,

pointing out careless errors,
negligible mostly, magnify and
shout. Lo! when it comes to them
they fail miserably,

The trait is inherent
I would vouchsafe
as it runs in the family
known for mediocracy.


A Fiesta

Waking up to the music
being played by Nature,
the greatest musician.
Humanity rejoices,

it is dawn with
darkness resigning
giving way to light,
alike to the rising of curtains,

a light music not very audible,
is felt, percolates to the inner,
a sensitivity stirs, liveliness

The sun advances with a brightness
beside a lot of man made noise,
the natural succumbs to the artificial
a subtle tune emanates, distancing itself.

Midafternoon and noon
fall silent, perhaps a hum
keeps going hard to distinguish
as the bustle overwhelms,

Dusk heralds a melodious
rhythm evolving altogether,
a pleasant harmony most
similar to the Piano’s notes.

Comes the night with the darkness,
lullaby flows in fluent, soothing
in its generic simultaneously reviving
slumber surfaces discreetly.


Breezy Talk

Ramila follows the wind
as it blows gently,
a breeze so to say,

She runs behind the flow
Is she being crazy? I wonder.
No, she cries, it is my practice.

She traces the flow
with an accuracy, even
a weatherman cannot do.

Tuning her analytics, she continues
the current raps the trees with a knock,
kisses the flowers as it crosses,

takes turn with the tides
ripples along with them
dives through the oceans

roaring with a bark, jumps
over to the hills, penetrates
through the thick vegetation

with a ooh! ooh! sound
rustles and rhymes with the
habitation right there.

finally slows, a breathlessness
sets in, decibels falling
to the lowest.

Ramilla turns ecstatic
as she defines and draws
the orbit of the current.


One Feels The Pandemic

All the while inside the house
thought it would be over
in days,

No, it drags on
into months, the end
will be a few months hitherto,

No, it continues. Hearsay is
will go beyond years.
None can see a close.

Staying in is safe,
Being indoors for years
will turn one delirious.

Washing hands with soap
few times a day is sensible
while you touch something

you have to, the need to wash,
delivers a battered feeling,
A mask around your mouth

and nose another factor
that bottles you up
seems weird.

the change the pandemic
has caused in our life
makes me pine for the good
old days.