Month: January 2025

I come across a new word

 “Plaster face”.  The epithet

 takes me by. surprise.

Visualizing a face plastered 

 for bruises my first take

  is deemed as prosaic.

Going deep, could that be one

modified by plastic surgery. 

 considered a medical phenomenon.

Still more into, a stone

like one, unemotional,

nay that is stone faced.

Penetrating further, discover

the one that hides the suffering,

a melodrama.

 Smile enlightens, happiness radiates

 when the inner self bleeds

a phycological metaphor.

 Not uncommon to find such 

an inside out that would embellish,

a design unnatural.

A decoration with fake diamonds

gaudy and distractive, a disguise

a subtle satire.

I see plaster faces everywhere

 mixing, mingling, socializing.

A stage performance.

Soft is lovable 

 The usage stretches farther

 a soft spot one says

connoting a special place 

 for the loved one.

 Goes all the more

soft corner int he heart

 directs to an unexplained

 liking for a person

 beyond comprehension.

A soft person in the making, 

 gentle and genial, a

 figure distanced from 

 the assertive, unfortunately

most look down on the softies.

The sweet tone  more than a whisper 

 neither loud nor feeble

 a genial one, a voice.

adored and appreciated

which the majority lack,

 The degrees of softness

 soft, softer and softest

 emphasize the coveted. 

 nature of the tone, approach,

 and behaviour,

Soft is a wee ahead of silence,

 If one is gold another is silver

 both turn impeccable,

 upholding worthy values

 and desirable impact.

A ceremonial oil bath is a must for me on Fridays.

 I diligently go through the bath,, applying oil,

 washing with Shikakai,

 Drying my hair with sambrani powder smeared liberally.

over the red-hot cinders placed in a brass stand,  I leave the hair free, 

tie a knot at the end. Quickly string jasmine flowers, run them  

between the strands.

 To the melody of M.S Subbalakshmi’s Suprabhata,

 I light the Diya’s, adorn the Goddesses and Gods with arali,  

white lilies, manoranjitham, conch shaped blue flowers, 

, Bilva and Tulsi leaves.

,

 With diya  in hand visit every room of the house

 step down to the garden perform an elaborate aarathi 

to Tulsi plant which is grown in the Northeastern part, 

the Ishanya mulai  a revered direction.

Back in the Puja, I sing slokas praising

 Mahalakshmi, Saraswathi, Meenakshi, 

Prostrates before the Goddesses 

 rise up smearing the forehead with Kumkum.

 I no longer visit temples, which are governed by rules

 a checking the portals, similar to the one 

 in airports, Constant monitoring, periodic 

checking, turns repulsive.

 My Puja room has become a 100 sq ft temple.

 Prahalad   replies to his father’s  Hiranyakashipu, a demon

 king’s command to stop praying to Lord Krishna. 

 “God is present in  pillars and in dust”.

I believe in

Omnipresence, Omnipotence and Omniscience.

.