Hand Over

We three, the milder versions 
 of our older siblings, keep 
close to each other.

Once playing in the lawns 
of our house in a hill station,
 perceive  two figures  trotting.

could not make out from a distance,
we cling to each other, what could it be? 
each one of us come with  interpretations,.

The youngest, too small, knows 
to talk few words, cries “tiger, tiger”,
 nudging close to me.

the other one  whispers,
” no. it is a ghost”, being 
the big sister, I turn responsible 

calm them down, while 
 my heart flutters with fear. Again,
we hear the sound of the hoofs

coming towards us. Holding our breath
we stand still staring at the direction.
A deer and  its fawn start running

seeing us. negotiate elegantly 
through the bends disappear 
into the forest behind.

We go back home
 devoid of fear, having  transferred 
 ours to the mother and kid.


The Shoe Flowers

 I  find two pairs  of flowers
glimmering. The bright red pair.
look shiny and provoking 
like  a lipstick worn  lass.

The soft rose ones demure and rich 
 carry an elegance,  lady like 
Adoring both the pairs I  watch 
my gardener Krishna, plucking 

flowers of varied colours, 
he gets near the hibiscus 
 stops, hearing me scream,
” No, No, Krishna, leave them”, 

Obedient as always, he  places the 
the basket  of flowers in the Puja
Hibiscus  are saved of life, only
 to wither the next morn,

In their place new ones 
blossom.  Nature  demonstrates 
the phenomenon of creation
and its values,

emphasizing the theory
the old order gives way 
to the new. to live 
is to die.


I Dream

It is happening 
 every day in the morning
between 2.30 and 3
I see a beautiful swan
descending  from heaven
sails as elegant as she can
raps on my pillow gently.

I do not open my eyes
 lest, she would fly off
 pretend to sleep 
she walks round my bed
pulls my big toe. I stay 
still. She does it again
 with force, 

I do feel the pain
 but keep my eyes closed
She flutters, her wings  strike 
my face, It being harsh
 I say aiyo. That gives out 
 my status. Opening my 
eyes I find darkness.

It is but a dream
a pleasant one may be
giving me a chance 
to espy a beauty 
one of a swan.
 elegant and charming
 gone extinct long back.


Two Birds In A Bush

one chirping loudly
the other pecking busily
a sight I relate very close
as in a family
one works
the other enjoys.

Curious, I watch them
the singer keeps company
inspiring the worker
to hunt for more.
Its tweets enthuse.
Both fly back with
a fair collection,

The rest is left to my imagination.
I tell myself it is singer’s duty
to feed the young ones, the other
bird needs rest, I do the moderator’s
job, apportioning the toil equally.
Else, it is erroneous, I say, not justifiable.
being treason.


Dillies And Dallies

It is a long day
with drizzle and sun
cold and warm
one of contradictions
an unusual phenomenon
at this part of the year.
when the rains cease
the monsoon ends
cold wave sets in.

The day ends with showers
the darkness grows intense
the nights turn warm
while the afternoons
grow cold yet an unfamiliar
presentation of Nature.
The unexpected twists
and turns caution us.

An alert or an alarm
I do not know, Have to be
apprehensive of the play.
deliberating for a time
it could be either something
wonderful or something painful
that is going to occur,
An anticipation of this or that
holds me tongue tied




Governed by by auspicious time
[i][i]Rahukalam[/i], Yemakandam
[i][/i]Kuligai,Horai, followed by yogams
[/i]Amirtha yogam, [i]Siddhayogam[/i],

Not to leave off the new moon day,
[i]Amavasai[/i],, full moon day, [i]Paurnami[/i],,
[i]Ashtami[/i], the eight day after new moon
or Full moon, [i]Navami[/i], the ninth after the two
moon days.

Limiting our activities to these
we conduct life, plan our travel,
fix wedding dates. the naming
of the new born, entering
the new house.

Too many, too bothersome
having followed so long
one cannot disregard the traditional
beliefs. Fear surges, if we
attempt to bypass them.

I follow these timings
as disciplined as ever.
Going by the traditions
which the forefathers have set
Majority fall in line.


The Way I Do

The fourteenth of January
every year [i]Pongal[/i]
festival otherwise called
harvest festival is celebrated.
I keep the earthen pots
and earthen stove
on the North East patio.

I use to decorate the area
every year the previous day
placing sugarcane on either side,
hanging stringed Mango leaves
at the entry. Draw [i]kolams [/i]
with rice powder. Not in absolute
perfection but in haphazard way.

Fearing rains, I did not go
with the elaboration,the night before
thought I can do it in the morning.
Rising early, I prepare breakfast,
elaborate meals according
to tradition. Two broths,
seven vegetables, dhal, [i].pappad [/i]/

The sky turns cloudy, looks like
rains would come any time.Daring
the rains,I decide to go with the usual.
Start my [i]kolam[/i],
bring the stoves and pots. rice,
jaggery, milk. Light the firewood
and the preparation commences.

Midway there is a light drizzle,
undaunted I proceed. In half an hour
I complete. Before I could perform
the puja, I hear a feeble thunder
my heart races, it should not get spoilt,
almost over, I pray silently.. Nothing
does happen. I am done.


Road Often Traversed

Hard to go around doing chores
day in and day out performing
the same old in small or large dose
turns killing.

Sighing and heaving I go abou.t
phone calls, guests dropping
in between. I carry on, no doubt’
with exhaustions interfering.

It so happens this morn
a trouble brews up all too sudden
accusing the one who has gone
she who had a heart golden

I hear a speech in drawl
that of a gossip involving a few
who brag and brawl
as if issues stand in queue.

Setting aside their scowl
I retreat to my room
shutting away from their howl
which, on them, will inflict a doom.

Unable to fit into the culture
where tongues spite
like a wild vulture
I wish to take flight.

One from hence
not one of impermanence
but into the dense
amalgamating in the intense.


The Brown Bird

The wings flutter up and down
that of the bird in brown
a big one akin to an owl
with eyes black in tone.

The bird takes off as if in a dash
penetrates with a splash
the sky divides to let it pass
one could see its huge claws,

Sharp enough to peel off the skin
the air blows very thin
the bird pierces through the sky
causing a tremor during the fly.

From where it came no one know
where it is going in such a flow
being beyond anyone’s surmise
as it heads forward with least of cries.



Weathermen do not know
why there are rains?
at this part of the year, while
the monsoons have ended.
When questioned draw blank.

The year that was, filled
with scare, where the
pandemic did not come
under any astrological map,
Calculations go wrong.

The claim it has been predicted
as health issues will make life
terrible at the onset of next year
appears an after thought. None
will accept defeat.

Anomalies abound
fraud, rape, robbery,
political folly, rashness
create hell. The world
is under undue pressure.

Kaliyuga marches fast,
the belief goes as such
world will end either
by floods or by fire
in hundred years.

the happenings that occur
drive one to sense
an immediate calamity
with people dying
one way or other.