Month: November 2020

Spending most time in the patio
 reading, and watching the traffic
 I badly miss the place 
when I am in  my second home
 where  burglary is rampant. 
 Windows are locked
 doors are bolted 
 I am like the one  in prison
seeing the outer world 
through the glasses.

My gardener of long time 
warns me to lock the door 
waits outside the gate, 
 cycles once the  auto gate closes
So does my milkman  who 
hoots at 9 in the morning
 fills the vessel with milk
 stays till I get back 
into the interiors.

My neighbour, a Chinese,
 ever  watchful rushes to the gate 
once he says a stranger near 
my home.  My husband calls me 
to find out  whether I am safe.
 I pass my days longing 
to return to my original home,
where I am free with the sun 
 wind and rain cross checking me.

A heretic I sound
while saying, I
 do not support divorce.

Brought up  with beliefs
 one man one wife
could make  life.

 I am unable to brook 
the separation for reasons
 big or small, serious or flimsy.

I plead unity, beseech 
adjustments,  call it a resignation 
 whatever might be.

Life with the second
 is beyond my imagination
seems sacrilegious.

The second one is second hand 
to me.  I refuse to substitute 
 my  plate for another’s.

Faults can become defaults,
rudeness will convert to kindness,
Forgive and forget is my mantra.
Realizing is a reward.

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These can happen to you and to me. I have written poems where you can hear my voice, sense my accent. The incidents that go unnoticed by most catch my attention. I lose myself and go as if in a reverie capturing them with feeling. coloring them with passion, making the ordinary look extraordinary. I try to use elegant and evolved vocabulary in my writings.
In this compilation stray far and wide. It is about a boat, then a kitten, including dinner, trace my life as a planter, become a mother, talk about the moon and the peacock, not leaving the topical allusions and social causes.
I present this collection to the readers and wait with agog to know their response.

Need reviews.!

Apprehension keeps me away 
from noise and celebrations,
that of the pandemic.

Needless to say I am a loner
finding pleasure from within
least from without.

Not one of a difference this period 
 corroborates with my self 
 otherwise, except the fear.

being in the interiors 
for the past six months 
without much interaction.

Rains fascinate, sunshine 
excites breeze comforts,
 not the least the garden

extends an accent. proposes 
a diction hitherto I failed  
to notice or comprehend.

One son on the hills angered,
the other one on the lap, complacent
Shiva and Umayal
retire to their abode,
very much that of
in every home.

Having spent the days
like the mortals.
watching events,
going out
in their case in procession,
dancing with passion being
an entertainment, enjoying
conjugality,

seeing their children fight
unable to reconcile and make peace
just like any other human
Shiva and Umayal live life.

A predominant desire
every one of us have,

” Pullai, pudai, puluvai, maramaki”
reads Thiruvasakam,

Interpreting
the different births man undertakes,
grass, shrub, insect, tree,
animal, bird, snake,’
stone, human, devil,
monster, ascetic, angel,
almost all forms ,
waiting for the day
of merging with Almighty.

Shiva and Umayal relax under a mango tree.
 onlooking  their two sons  Ganesa and Muruga.
quarrelling and rolling in the sand,

Umayal bids them near. Ganedsa jumps 
on to her lap, while Muruga plays with her long hair 
from behind giggling,

“I have got a golden mango”  a precious one.
” I will gift it to the one  who wins the race”. 
a challenge we mortals could never dream off.

 Muruga , the little one, ambitious shrewd, alert,
ascends on his peacock and sets off, to  go around 
the world as pronounced by his mother,

The obese Ganesa thinks of a short cut,
 goes around his parents thrice.
 Umayal hugs her son and gifts the mango.

At the moment Muruga flies in,
 Sees the mango in his brother’s hands,
 turns furious flies away in anger, finds 
an abode in the hills.

Thith tha   pronounces the nattuvanar ( dance master)
 in comes Shiva .
Thith thai enters Umayal the chitrakoodam  ( concert hall)
 The master continues with the jathis (steps)
 Shiva and Umayal alternating in the course,
 dancing all the way.

Shiva races, Umayal follows, 
The male fascinates, the lady entices.
A challenge thrown, a  fiery competition..
 The Devas watch with eyes wide open.
The asuras ( the bad ones) fear Shiva’s dancing 
velocity.

Heaven rocks as the momentum picks up.
 A tremor is felt, The dancer and danseuse 
vie, throw intrinsic formats at each other 
perform with  exactness.

Earth  unable to bear the pressure seems to collapse.,
 trees uproot, rivers flood, oceans overwhelm 
 mountains stumble. The divine couple 
 continue with passion, dancing in style.

Thith thalangu thaka thom  cries  the Nattuvanar.
 Shiva raises his leg above the head.
 Umayal being a female pauses.
Shiva takes her in his arms.

Umayal goes to the 
 shrine where Shiva
 resides.

Draped in red kurai pudavai
 intricately woven with motifs 
of peacock she is astounding.

Bejewelled and decked with flowers.
 Umayal  looks gorgeous,
 like a bride.

Rag kalyani flows with a flourish,
 the melam exponents play  thani avaartana, 
with such vigour, 

the jathis spurt and jump. with a force
rhythmic and rejuvenating, Shivacharyas
 perform the aarathi,

Shiva and Umayal enter the palliyarai,
 the private chamber, where milk 
and fruits are placed in golden plates.

The  doors closes to  exceptional 
   rendition  of rag Neelamabri.,
a bliss to hear, tranquillity  reigns. 

Mellifluous music 
flows from the sanctum,
Hema stays back. Intrigued
 she listens  to anandhabhairavi, 
anandha meaning joy

Shiva dressed in a red velvet jacket, 
a pure white silk dhoti  embellished 
with zari runs round his waist, 
 boards the palanquin
 another  ornate masterpiece

The Shivacharayas with hair tied in a knot, 
chant Om Namasivaya  take the row behind 
the musicians, who sport free hair.  
while the palanquin bearers, 
dark and rugged  with thick moustache 
cry samiyo as they place the palanquin  
on their shoulders,

The procession commences. Torch bearers 
walk beside, the fiery glow enhances the spirit.
Shiva looks glorious.  Melody inundates, 
ecstasy permeates  as if to juxtapose
 the Othuvars (vocalists) break the frenzy 
with a song  ” mannil nalla vannam valazham”
 interpreted as,

Live gracefully on earth,
think righteously,
spread happiness around,
as Shiva unites with his consort Umayal.

Holding the basket
close to her bosom,
Hema enters the temple,
the guard’s growl “Who is Shiva?”
storms in and out of her ears.

‘I am Linga” , a divine voice
echoes through the long corridors
reverberates from the sculpted
pillars , flows from the sanctum .
Hema, tries to locate the voice.

She runs to the Garpagriha .
Silence prevails, disappointed,Hema
turns to go ,”” Come here”
calls a voice. Puzzled,
she retreats to find none.

The linga as seen
represents the formless.
resembles an egg, a cosmic egg
denotes brahmananda , one of
an exuberance. an exaltation,

signifying Satya, Jnana, and Anantha
Truth, knowledge and infinity. Hema
sits down on the stone floor
feels a tingling, a pulling, the stone delivers
a drift, an intrusion from nowhere
makes her float, In a trance,

she perceives a figure beside the
sculpted pillar dancing with one foot up,
one foot planted on the ground, locks swing
in all directions as momentum gains, the right
hand makes the abhaya mudra gesture.
He is Shiva, declares Hema .