Month: September 2020

Krishna, trims the hedges.
An artist in heart he shapes them
creates three tiers, the bottom one big
the center small, the top one medium.
Fortunate to have him as my gardener.

I watch Krishna from the patio
He cuts humming a hit song
of yester years
ammavum neeye , appavum neeye
The same way the playback singer sings,

The hedges turn lovely, each one
depicting a pattern, The song flows
without any interruption. Krishna, is tired,
Rests for a while.

Wiping off the sweat, he looks
at his work. Says Sabash,
rises up to finish the remaining.
I gaze at him with wonder.

Krishna is almost the same age
as I am. I complain of my worn
out knees, and walk the barest minimum
while he stands for hours in the sun.

Hard ways have made him strong,
The comforts I enjoy have let me down.
Who is better off ? I ask myself.
It goes without saying.

Tails at the back
shouts Miss Myrtle
my English teacher.
as she enters

Noted for strictness
she is a terror among
the sixth formers, the
twenty of us,

push our plaits back,
hurriedly stand to greet her.
She is neatly clad in a starched
pink handloom cotton saree.

Taking her chair. her eyes
travel through the rows
lasts on Sheela, a timid girl

She summons Sheela
to come to her desk.
Trembling Sheela
goes to her.

“Your skirt
is crushed and the blouse
do not go with it. You look
shabby.”

Watching with awe,
I look at Sheela.
Find her skirt with perfect
pleats, the blouse appropriate.

Miss Myrtle continues
talking of how to dress,
and how to pick up grace.
and look pleasing.
She then reads out
“I wandered lonely as a cloud.
That floats on high over vales and hills
——–“.

The bell goes, the English
hour over. Miss Myrtle
rises from her chair
walks nodding
to our chorus ” Thank You Mam,”

Nothing happens
in this part of the globe.
not anything spectacular
as seen for a period.

Few politicians make big noise,
a less number of businessmen
attempt to work out big, Otherwise
it is quiet all the way.

The day dawns and closes
before one could realize
man wakes and sleeps
before he thinks of anything.

This being the status
the world , at least the place
I live slides into a serenity
it is unable to handle.

A piquant situation we face
do not know how long
it will extend, Anticipating
a return of vibrancy soon.

Childhood remains a bliss ,
one of least wants.
Growing , I am into learning
the primary goal,

Marriage places me
in a status never did I dream,
Surrounded by rivalry, deceit,
envy, I lose track, a setback.

A pallor of the original,
I live, of late, with
an equanimity, juxtaposing
good and bad,

beatitude and affliction,
never once I did succumb to vile
and vicious, fall a prey
to treachery and deceit.

Perceiving the scenario
as neither an embattlement
nor a hardship, I pass the years
nothing to expect, having
a lot more to fulfill.

it is appalling
seeing Ratan
taking decisions
on his own.

He, who knows,
very little violates,
principles, turns
unethical.

I see impertinence
in him. He hires, rents,
spends, lives enjoying
life at the expense of others

He does not spend a pie
from his own, draws from
the family funds,
a clever manipulation.

His wife is proud of his
accounting skill. Most concerned
about her husband she claims he
works day and night for the family.

They applaud their feat, thoughts,
considerations and selfless
attitude. To many like me
they seem parasitical.

Harrowed by an experience
drawn unnecessarily
into a controversy,
I stand two meters apart
from gossip and slander.

Quietude is my weapon
I refrain from talking
speak out only when required
restricting to few syllables,
gestures turn pronounced.

When I was ten years old,
my cousin, fairly senior to me
offered me a big piece
of chocolate when I came out with
my tenth word for that day.

Bustle is not my cup of tea
I walk away from the crowd
finding myself trapped
lose my equanimity, When
about to scream,

I contain myself, walk away,
scoffing and seething
with indignation as seen
in my eyes, not a word
I speak.

I stay awake till midnight
tossing in the bed.
Both my physic and mind
are not at rest.

It is turning into a stress
thinking of the bygone
foreseeing the future
recording the present.

Knowing fully well
it is impossible
to re -enact the past
I retrospect.

That of the future,
beyond my grasp
a mirage, elusive,
I introspect.

From the present which
I behold and experience
most under my control.
I suspect.

It is how I spend my nights
physically on the bed
virtually travelling
across the days and years,

I met Ratan the other day,
he was the usual self
bubbling and cheerful
talking with a gusto
confirming with gestures.

Half of his talk
I do not understand
as he converses in a triple tone
without modulations leaving
the listener in a quandary.

He speaks of his power
and stature, harps on his wealth,
builds slowly a caricature
of himself, he an investing
guru like Peter Drucker.

My eyes gets stuck
my mind travels elsewhere,
his lecture continues
delivering an insensitivity
to both my ears.

who mutually respect each other
the relative speak about them
with sarcasm.

They say the husband
listens to his wife. She is
the kingpin in the family,
as though the man is not strong.

For long the wife did not bother,
as she knows it emanates from quarters
where illiterates convene, She ignores
the taunts,

She retorts, saying those who mock,
perhaps, pay heed to their mistresses,
in the process discloses the names
of the second women of the speakers.

The bold claim reaches the slanderers’
who shut their mouth, dare utter
any remarks about her. Put their heads
down with disgrace.

I call Harun
ask  the rate
Next I reach Bharat
note down the cost.

Not enough, I 
personally go to  Vishal.
Discreetly jot down 
the price.

In the middle observe 
the quality. Which one 
will be appropriate?
I weigh the pros and cons 

 I choose VIshal’s.
  reduce the price 
by 2 Rupees,  A bargain! 
I beam with a smile.

 All  efforts   for purchase of 
terracotta tiles. I save 
 5000 Rupees. Hind sight 
  I feel I  am mean.