It Is Pongal

Rituals and customs 
turn back breaking,
It is Pongal,

A decade back
it was different
age was beside,

help was in abundance.
 It turns out to be an one 
woman show,

Pongal in the courtyard
 earthen pots and mud stoves,
firewood, and decorations,

 curries and broths 
being almost nine in count 
clubbed with the auspicious,

timings make me pant,
 The day before resolved 
to cut short  the menu,

stick to the main ones
somehow go back to the age old
custom,  been doing 

for 48 years, apprehensive
 any miss out ,be it the number,
could lead to  unpleasantness..

 Meticulous! I appreciate,
Not long,  sudden onset of pain
 from the knees and hands

debilitates, holding my knee
 I settle on my bed.   smiling 
 and sobbing at the same time.



I say one of a reckon,
he replies a maize or sweet corn,
expressing a scorn

Another one is born
being christened as Omicron
milder mutation that darns,

comes not alone
with a sibling in tone’
called as Deltacron.

Dawn sees hundreds
dusk sees a flood
of thousands instead.

The rise turns magical
spread remains inimical
variants of Covid typical.


I wish

Wishes remain wishes
seeing snow, the fluffy ball
white and cold
numbing the fingers
lying like a white roll
on the terrain.

The other one
to see the world
eating whatever
comes in my way
overcoming the feel
of nausea and distaste
i experience,

Could these two be possible
in my lifetime? I ask,
being me who is to blame
dislikes out number the likes
carrying along a quaint
sensation of nostalgy
hard to express.


The Devil In Me

A little patience, heart commands
a pause instructs my mind.
I pay no attention,
it is now and at once
commence with a bang,

Turning at times hysterical
like a mad dog,
I wag my tongue
harsh and rude
like a hungry tiger.

Blood shot eyes,
expressive of indignation
enhance my seething
temper and I appear
more or less like a devil.


Keeping Afloat

Immersed in the day to day 
the simple and the complicated,
the personal and business
push me to the end  of the world.

Before I could get up
another one comes from nowhere
dumps me in with a force
 I sink faster than before.

 That is how my life 
 moves one going in 
 and coming out like a fish
 unable to find a status.

Like to learn a technique 
breathing with closed eyes
the characteristic of the fish
aware  and unaware,

a simultaneous progress 
that keeps it afloat 
in deep waters
almost untouched.


Half A Century

It is been nearly half a century
 two years shot in real
co existing with one 
a life partner,  who 
blames me for the failures.

Shouts clenching his teeth,
 “It is because of you”,
good things escape
hearing  the first time
 I became frightened ,

Year after year
the allegations grow 
more in number, “it is 
you and it is you”
always and ever,

I have turned deaf 
to his screams, remain
quiet most times,
 at periods  hit back 
with vehemence.

Those days go far into violence
 it is reciprocals that govern
I and you demand a corner
 fingers point, eyes twitch
 body shakes, a trauma ,

on the verge, I proceed 
 with a determination
 whatever comes, I will 
 stay  stoic, enough of 
 bowing down,


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.