An Intervention

 Renu stays stoic 
 staring for hours
“it is mine , it is mine”
she cries.

 She holds it dear
close to her bosom
the evil man tries 
to pull with force.

Renu  holds firmly  
allowing not an inch
he attempts with 
renewed vigour.

It is an unequal fight, 
he a burly male,
 she a petite girl,
the tug and pull continue

Renu fights. Her possession
lies straight on her chest.
Unexpectedly he loses balance,
trips down and falls flat.

 The girl’s eyes 
rove with a shine.
Could this be due 
to an intervention?


Many More years

Deep into the mundane,
where finance overcomes.
 I write, strike, overwrite,
 rewrite and finally enter.

It is taxing as the taxation 
weighs heavy on the back,
 scroll up and down
 seeking loops to bring down,

a mind blowing effort
 keeps my fingers tapping
 while my toes stand up
 allowing me not a position

 both of sitting and standing.
 I pierce through the screen
 researching the tax formulas
 an exercise I am not familiar.

Hiring a tax consultant costs a fortune
not appointing an accountant 
turns expensive, I do,  not out  of passion
 but  to save  money.

As years advance, I have become
frugal,  develop an outlook, money 
 being the be all and end all
of life , as if I have many more 
years to go,



it is silent night
 a holy one, 
the Christmas eve
 where few stars
 sparkle  from afar
 cloudless remains 
the sky dark as ever 
in December.

A  soft cry from afar
 piercing  through the quietude 
dispels the heavy silence, as
 the world wakes up
readying itself to welcome 
the babe. A  ray of light 
shines for a second
creating an illumination.

A powerful array 
enough to awaken
 the  inner self and 
 brighten the external
marks the phenomenon
 the birth of the saviour,
chorusing  hallelujah,
Jesus is here. 


Sama Thana Petha Thanda

An untold ambiguity 
grips me this day.
 Will it or will it  not?
 creates a panic.

 Emboldened eyes keep going out 
and coming back,  I try to overcome,
 “Word is my honour”,   I whisper,
how am I going to cross?

Sanity deserts  fingers feel 
the brunt as I press them hard,.
Fighting with the inferiors
causes a desperation.

Will I overcome? Would I  succeed?
 I silently weep hiding my tears.
Resolve to adopt measures
 smooth, hard, harsh and forceful.

 “Sama, thana, petha, thanda”
the Sanskrit saying  offers rescue
Decided I get back to work
“No more crying: I say to myself.


A Work Of Art

A week long engagements 
keep me busy,
not being the regular ones
of meetings, weddings. 
an involvement overseeing 
a project one of a passion taking 
shape slowly but steadily.

Past the age of active  indulgence
I work without hurry say  for a couple 
of years, from two, to three and four
I build, redo, and work
having in mind a vision
ending up with  a secondary 
unsatisfied  drive.

 A continuous process 
I am never tired  any time,
The finality comes up 
with a distinction.
a  show  of brilliance
makes me proud
 worthy of the effort
 I have put in,


Blending and Breathing

The marigold and the dahlias 
yellow and red blossom
 with a tenderness 
one of grace  and brilliance
both put together 
make them look enchanting.

The green grass and the roses 
white, pink and red display 
a grandeur, a portraiture 
of lush and  fecundity 
conjoined to present 
a fascination beyond .

Ixora and succulents
remain fresh during summer, 
tracing the beauty in the dry 
format an illustration
of the competing 
composure  as seen.

The garden is heaven
with colours, thrown
out as if in a spreadsheet;

blending  and breathing 

with a generosity  lighting 
up the environ with bliss


Better Not Tell Her Name

She takes everything
that  comes her way,
 lkne a greedy jackal
grabs almost all 
the does not come near,
aping a ferocious tiger
keeps them safe in her custody
in a fashion similar to  Shylock
 looks out for even more
her eyes continue revolving,
as  Macbeth keeps washing his 
hands to remove the stains  of blood.

With that much bounty she has
 she rests not in peace
 spites, condemns, and curses
 those of her kin accusing 
they have  abused her rights
 leaving  her with nothing
she could claim as her own.
 akin to the roaring lion.

 She has sold most  of her plunder
to settle her dues which has grown
out of proportion , interest multiplies 
in geometric progression, 
she has remained careless
as one who builds castles in air
 similar to Nero who fiddles happily
 while Rome  is burning.


Man Differs Nature Preserves

It is families who lived together
uncles, aunts, grandparents,
all under a roof
partaking food together
participating in discussions,
confronting each other
all seemed possible 
few decades ago,

 These years two individuals 
 in apartments big or small 
express anger scream, shout,
hurl, throw things, release 
scorn, condemn one another 
conversation ceases,
the kitchen turns empty.
separation is initiated.

Wondering at such episodes
 I deliberate. I may sound 
 archaic,I look at the sun
 shining so beautifully, the clouds 
moving  in rows, the sky seems pleasing 
the ocean flows with subdued roar
 the mountains majestically bow over
 They profess no change whatsoever,

Time changes man alone.
Could be because of __-?
Really, I do not know.


I Am Not Rich

Those I had
and those I still possess
a long list I can make
being not the materials
but that of the passions
I nurtured with steadfastness,

Most did not work out,
being very ambitious,
Primary is  setting a college 
of commerce, where transactions 
assume  top priority, where 
trade reaches the zenith unaffected
 by deceit,  transparent dealings.

The next is still more 
powerful,  Organizing 
a trust to help those 
who sincerely want to pursue 
higher studies, Assisting them financially 
and  rewarding them with job security.

The last of the tallest keeping 
the environment clean,
where my country falls short 
of all standards, spitting, urinating, 
defecating in public , unmindful 
discharging  of trash.

I wish, I deliberate, I draw plans
talk to the people concerned,
but all remain in papers ,
Blessed of me for having
remained inert.  Not me alone 
to be accused, the money part
 pulls me  behind,  The fact being
 I am not rich.


Nadu Mutram

Crossing the parlour 
 entering the corridor 
that leads  to the nadu mutram
I stand amazed.

It is the tradition. 
it is the openness.
 it is the space where 
sun, moon and rain enter

that I longed for
that I  have done
though not as perfect
as the ancestral

a resemblance of the past
near similarity of the aesthetics
the black pillars,  the plantain 
flowers with the stalk atop,

a grandeur I behold
invites me to sit on the 
platform between the pillars
condescending I sit at ease 

 reclining  on one of them.
The sun strikes my face
gently, startled, I wake up
from my reverie.

I hear as if in an echo

“Your dream has come true,
 Are you happy? Do you want 
 still more? “

A human, I am, never satisfied. 
I visualize certain embellishments 
that have to be done,  rising up 
I hurry towards the goal.

Nadu Mutram — Courtyard,