Author: meenas17

The sixth formers at St .Josephs
 not the recent ones, as one imagines 
 those  who studied decades ago,
 try to reconnect, Effortlessly 
many join.

 Being an attempt praiseworthy 
  it takes off with a start
 then as days go 
the prospects turn dim
less, lesser and least.

It is not due to lack of interest
 but one of paucity.  exchange
 of ideas  tracks down. each one 
in some part of the world,
busy in some measure 

The sixteen year  old girls
with sprightly looks, possessing  
the will to conquer the world,
 are well into their sixties, seem
 exhausted, devoid of impetus.

They stay alive in air, mean in 
zoom. The voice is as good as old 
the looks differ, with greying hair
 sagging skin, mostly 
the curiosity that sparkled 
 goes missing,

The sixth formers hold their chats
 in bay, Few  stay active. 
the rest have retreated 
to their world unable to spend
time marked by nil resource of energy.

Fifth one born, a girl
brings luck, wealth 
and so to say prosperity.
A belief hard to believe.

Fourth born if she is a girl
 will suffer like a dog
She will struggle. Still 
more harder to accept,

It so happens, I am the fourth
child of my parents, I ask my 
 mother ” Will I suffer? being the fourth
Mom negates my fear

saying, “actually you are fifth.
My first child got aborted 
due to natural causes. You are 
my fifth child.” 

I do not know why she brought 
in the aborted child.  Is it just 
to make me happy or is it 
the real truth.  I do not know. 

Fourth or fifth, I live like 
any ordinary woman, Not 
much to speak of either 
way.

Those of my staff 
who had gone for good.
who had left on their own
a few who I have sent back
 keep coming in my thoughts
for reasons unknown

Most of them had been 
with me for decades. I, 
 their boss never 
bossed over,  They ,
 my deputies never 
felt so.

Of recent, one of 
them, the cook 
wants to come back
needs me to call and confirm. 
Representing through  those 
in service. he  draws  attention.

Holding back, I recollect
 the experiences I had with 
him, mostly pleasant, 
 a few being horrible.
“Make your mind, plead
 my aching knees”.

I feel I have to give up
 if not my knees will 
 stop working.  I am
 at cross roads, ego  
or inability, which 
is the surmount? 

 

We three, the milder versions 
 of our older siblings, keep 
close to each other.

Once playing in the lawns 
of our house in a hill station,
 perceive  two figures  trotting.

could not make out from a distance,
we cling to each other, what could it be? 
each one of us come with  interpretations,.

The youngest, too small, knows 
to talk few words, cries “tiger, tiger”,
 nudging close to me.

the other one  whispers,
” no. it is a ghost”, being 
the big sister, I turn responsible 

calm them down, while 
 my heart flutters with fear. Again,
we hear the sound of the hoofs

coming towards us. Holding our breath
we stand still staring at the direction.
A deer and  its fawn start running

seeing us. negotiate elegantly 
through the bends disappear 
into the forest behind.

We go back home
 devoid of fear, having  transferred 
 ours to the mother and kid.

 I  find two pairs  of flowers
glimmering. The bright red pair.
look shiny and provoking 
like  a lipstick worn  lass.

The soft rose ones demure and rich 
 carry an elegance,  lady like 
Adoring both the pairs I  watch 
my gardener Krishna, plucking 

flowers of varied colours, 
he gets near the hibiscus 
 stops, hearing me scream,
” No, No, Krishna, leave them”, 

Obedient as always, he  places the 
the basket  of flowers in the Puja
Hibiscus  are saved of life, only
 to wither the next morn,

In their place new ones 
blossom.  Nature  demonstrates 
the phenomenon of creation
and its values,

emphasizing the theory
the old order gives way 
to the new. to live 
is to die.

It is happening 
 every day in the morning
between 2.30 and 3
I see a beautiful swan
descending  from heaven
sails as elegant as she can
raps on my pillow gently.

I do not open my eyes
 lest, she would fly off
 pretend to sleep 
she walks round my bed
pulls my big toe. I stay 
still. She does it again
 with force, 

I do feel the pain
 but keep my eyes closed
She flutters, her wings  strike 
my face, It being harsh
 I say aiyo. That gives out 
 my status. Opening my 
eyes I find darkness.

It is but a dream
a pleasant one may be
giving me a chance 
to espy a beauty 
one of a swan.
 elegant and charming
 gone extinct long back.

one chirping loudly
the other pecking busily
a sight I relate very close
as in a family
one works
the other enjoys.

Curious, I watch them
the singer keeps company
inspiring the worker
to hunt for more.
Its tweets enthuse.
Both fly back with
a fair collection,

The rest is left to my imagination.
I tell myself it is singer’s duty
to feed the young ones, the other
bird needs rest, I do the moderator’s
job, apportioning the toil equally.
Else, it is erroneous, I say, not justifiable.
being treason.

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

c

Governed by by auspicious time
[i][i]Rahukalam[/i], Yemakandam
[i][/i]Kuligai,Horai, followed by yogams
[/i]Amirtha yogam, [i]Siddhayogam[/i],
[i]Maranayogam[/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 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.