Cross, Join, Knock

This one crossing
the other one joining
while the third one
comes knocking
I am helpless
in front of the issues
that haunt me without
a pause.

I keep moving
attending to the first
with a caution
addressing the next
in terms
postponing the third
feeling it can wait
scheduling myself
with an alibi.

This goes on for a time
involving a lot of patience,
suppressing my anger
I redeem both with an emergency
cause I have one more
in stock crying for recognition
I spare only a few minutes
with the last. Solve with
a reposed ease.


Seeing Myself

The more I stay at home
 the more visible I am turning,
 ironic it  sounds, ain’t it? 
that is what is real.

I  am seen  with the virtual in mind
the image grows larger than the real.
 a bit of physics which I studied 
young rescues me,

The real image is made 
of converging rays
 while the virtual 
is an extension of divergences.

I remain at the focal point
where my varied installations 
 convert me as an image
 which is bigger than the lifelike.

Being  absolutely an unfit
 I squeeze myself into the mould
with an unease, with a suspicion 
 as how  I am perceived.



The dolls from the attic
come down in order,
the young ones jump all over,
the adults descend in style
while the older stagger.

They look colourful
red, yellow, green and blue,
Krishna shimmers in blue
while Lakshmi graces in green
Meenakshi flanks both in red.

The garden set with huge trees
and flowers add to the glow
while the soldiers clad
in uniform stand erect.

The shopkeepers with big tummies
head shining bald, sell with a flair
people throng with baskets in hand
the queue lines up in length.

A representation to animals
ranks in prominence
cows graze over the meadow
horses enact a parade

elephants walk royal.
The nine steps, symbolic of Navaratri
stand tall with dolls arranged
evolving a pictorial extravaganza,



It is a leaf, Mudukathan, we call it
known for its medical benefits
a cure for joint pains.

Muduku is one that cripples,
debilitates, an ailment
that causes terrible pain.

Athan is best defined
as which destroys
relieves the pain.

Mudukathan as the
name goes annihilates
the pain in a stroke.

My gardener seeing me
suffering plucks the leaves,
asks me to prepare a soup,

drink every day Amma
you will be relieved. Moved
by his concern, I consume

The taste is terrible, bitter,
My tongue rolls back,
eyes squint and shrink.

Nauseating, I contain from
spitting out as a mark of respect
to the gardener’s wish.

Holistic medicines have
awful taste. render slow
but sustained relief.

The bitterness remains
for long, goes down the throat
to the gullet.

Wonder, when it will
reach my knee,
and assuage the ache.



The events across the day
being not of validity
that of the usual chores
along with the calls
from places of business
place me at ease.

Ease, did I say?
In a way it is comfortable
in others it makes me dull
feel I am not needed any more
close to saying pack your bags
and push off.

Well, that being not far away,
I quieten my mind
bid her to think straight
a break, a pause
does not mean the end.

These days I speak to myself
more often silently, fearing
an audible voice when
heard would make others think
I am off the mind.

That being the manner,
locking the inner
from being visible
an idiosyncrasy
of no ordinary means


The Top Of It

Coming to the top
I relish and revel
not what I write
but what I see.

A day of rain and sun
cloudy and bright
alternating each other
keep dodging,

the black clouds disappear.
the blue ones come out
the sun peers from within
as if in a vigil,

all in a quick they go behind
there arises a drizzle
which fall light like flowers
kissing the earth,

a lovely scenario I perceive
one of colour and shadow
a panorama light yellow and grey
that holds me in a sway.


In The Last Rank

I wish I could write pages
lo! get stuck in the middle
not right to say in the middle
i more so while I start.

I blink and search
my hand types
while the mind gropes
nothing more I could do,

Curious, I read what
I typed, It is a draft
speaks out some sense
with words matching.

A moment to be happy
as I can also write
not like the great poets
be one among them. my name
in the last few ranks.


Eleventh Hour

it is the eleventh hour
I hurry, wobble and fall.
Time being at the moment
I finish all too soon.

The decision right or wrong
good or bad, I do not know,
I close the deal and walk away.
Eyes do follow me.

Those emit anger,
I have sealed, do not care
of what others think, I am done.
I proclaim,

A little too ambiguous
I like to open up. A nomination
for a post to an undeserving
person. I want to object.

Etiquette prevails, I refrain
from stopping the proposition,
as I feel the position is of choice
providing a chance to all.


An Indulgence

It is been few days hence
I thought of my mother,
a few years since
I saw my sister.
a few decades almost
I spoke to my brothers ,
being only the few
that counts as I grow
I cease deliberating
on those around me
a sort of withdrawal
being an indulgence has set in
I do not think of myself
for that matter.



It is a personification 
that I love, one of being 
exactly like a mother
more so as the age advances, the mother’s characteristics  grow more pronounced.

Not relying on others 
I take myself as an instance
where I find I turn like my mom 
both in looks and attitude. 
Way before I was a different 
from her in every aspect/

Is it the genetics that play? 
I am  unable to assess,
friends and relations 
identified the similarities 
first, I negated their perception.
saying they are wrong.

Of recent , while I 
cross a mirror, the reflection
 makes me jump, looks 
as though mom is walking
same could be felt  in 
the voice while  I talk.

Curious it sounds, but true
I am  a replica of her
in certain distinct features, 
but fall short of her when equated she surpasses in skills unknown to me surmounts in  exercising control.