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.



I open the main door
 find a cute  brown 
and white cat cuddling
 in my chair

 Possessive of the chair
 inanimate as it is, I feel at ease
when I sit on it,  if anybody 
occupies  I lose my equanimity,

 Before i could  chase the 
one  who has usurped my place.
she jumps and perches on the swing  
amused at my panic.

I remove the cushion cover
wash  it, place the cushion 
in the sunlight, having resolved t
o place the chair in every night,

Incorrigible and mean  I am 
of late, unable to brook 
anyone touching my own,  be it  chair, 
 glass,  cup, mobile, pen.

what not and what else.
At times. I am ashamed 
of being frivolous, securing 
the personal  items like a child.


Triumph Or Trump

Standing on a lost  ground,
 he cries  hoarse
 ” I have won in all rounds”.  

Pacing up and down
he gropes in the dark
for the lost crown.

Incites his supporters to rise 
four  fall prey to the shootout
unconcerned he  cries

” I will not concede”.
denying smooth transition
insensible he is indeed.

He has to be thrown out 
 physical handling only
could subdue his shout.

News channels  flash just now
 that   he has agreed to step down
with an awkward bow.


Kanne Urangu

I hear a lullaby,
from afar. Araaro,
Ararirero, Kanna 

My grand mothers
and aunts sang such ones
in  a melodious tune

not within the musical notes
composed their own verses
unbound   by forms.

Each child in the family,
those days we were 
six to ten, listened 

to  instant compositions.
We became central figures.   
our physical features

 acqueline nose. thin lips, 
dimple chin, curly hair, 
were elaborated,

hailed us as princess 
or prince according to gender,
rocking the child in the lap 

They sang with  much passion
 and love. The child  had
 no other choice, falls asleep.

araaro, arirero— the opening line 
of a lullaby, Tamil folk song.

urangu— sleep.



The scenario here 
is still not viable
 for love marriages.

Parents spurn
such wed locks
relations scorn.

a few friends help 
to unite, the couple 
face  the society’s wrath.

Some elders drive them
out of the town , few others
murder them.

Love is treason 
in most parts of India
where marriages 

go through strict process. 
selecting by status, money, 
caste, religion and education

Wedding out of love
are scarce, if at all 
they happen it is heresy.

The match making works 
 barring few exceptions
which end  in divorce.

One man one wife,
is the Indian thought
sacred  and strong.

Changing spouse
 is akin to changing 
colours,  It is shame. 

“Demeaning’ cries 
the Indian who considers 
divorce sacrilegious.