Author: meenas17

Knock, Knock, continuous
tapping on the door
every morning, keep
me on toes.

The day starts with gentle rap
 it is my maid Sumathy
Her smile enlivens, her  maturity
gratifies.

A deafening tap. it seems
the doors will give off. Velu.
who irons my sarees thunders in.
Enacts a dramatic greeting.

A pause, I return to the door
responding to a soft  knock.
one that is similar to a chirp.
gentle and subdued

My gardener Krishna walks proudly
carrying baskets of tomatoes,
 brinjals and cucumbers, happiness
writ large on his face,

Little later, the driver
barges in. His two-wheeler
hiccups, coughs, belches
before it comes to a stop,

Quick, he is at the door. before
 he could rap, I give the car keys,
 he salutes me in all attention
 a semblance of a military sepoy.

The day commences in a startle
 my assistants attend to their duties,
 I doze off peacefully, stacking my keys
under the pillow. A safety measure

–

I eat with my hands, if I ever visit,
n a restaurant, starred hotels.
where the tables are set.

Fork, spoon, knife

beside the plate remain
untouched,

The joy of mixing rice
with broth and ghee,
rasam and papads,

curd and pickle. the curries

that go with them,
I experience a physical

connection, it is Vedas

Through the thumb comes space
Through the forefinger comes air
Through the mid-finger comes fire
Through the ring finger comes water
Through the pinky finger comes earth

The mind, body and spirit commune
with the food, sensing the temperature,
feeling the contents,  a consistent eating 

progresses

Above all, it is your hand,
mind you the right one,
that goes into your mouth
not the cutlery used by others.
Is it not hygienic, that way?

 Oh! I sleep  during the day.
Calls, duties take a
back step.  One of
deep slumber.

Oh! but for the night
dreams gnaw and sting 
present both pleasant
and terrible.

Those affable
relate to my childhood
where  my mother dominates
school and university glide past

The other places me
in a state, reminiscing
the hardships, loss
disappointments.

recalls the nightmares
anguish, fraudulence
I endured, making me half dead,
currently half asleep,

A kind of insomnia sets in
Unable to forgive
and forget, I move on
falling short of virtuosity

Revenge, I do not attempt.  
 as I could never be vicious,
That being the scenario  
  I turn vigilant the whole night.

–

Thinking of the creatures around
as your own, talking to them often
listening to their sounds, I
differentiate a howl from a bark,
a tweet from a shrill cry,
a cheerful buzz from a monotonous hum.

The trees, grass and shrubs
 carry me to a world of pictorial
 grandeur, greenery of the meadows,
 bid me nearby.   Caressing the tuft
 I stand beneath a huge neem tree.
whose shade entices.  Losing balance
my feet stuck in the marshy terrain,  

I hold tight to the trunk, my palm
hurts as the rough exterior
bruises. Blood oozes. I wipe on the bark
red specs  stain the chocolate brown texture.
Experiencing a kinship with these  
 my life turns meaningful,
suffixing a liveliness that
extends grace.

—

Watching a priest prostrating
 before a teak tree draped
in yellow silk, flowers and bells
are tied around making it look
like a bride.

The priest chant slokas,
calls the birds who flock to tweet
the squirrels come down to squeak
bees swarm buzzing, leaves rustle
the branches tweak.

With folded hands, the priest
seeks permission to fell the tree
from the inhabitants. Birds sing,

 squirrels chirp. bees hum, leaves flutter,
in delight,

sensing the cue
the wood cutters go near
place their hands on the trunk
pray and start work. The teak tree
will become the flagpole
of Sabarimala.

Tree falls down with pride.

—

Taj Mahal,  an edifice
 proclaiming Shahjahan’s love
 for Mumtaz,

Queen Udayanati’s stepwell in Patan
honours her husband Kama
both are agelessly gorgeous

Love turns blind when
it assumes a noble role.

Creativity is gifted to few

The much-known Taj
 and the less familiar
 Stepwells are monuments,

timeless beauties which glorify
 love– a passion that surpasses
ordinary instincts and pleasures

.

 i

–

One of a game
picturing the difference
of small and big, of strong and weak
a practicality that prevails  

 As the game advances
 the cat catches the mouse
 a representation with validity
 strength conquering the frail

Seen this played long, long, ago
where children spent time in the garden
shouting and running happily, an exercise
promoting health and adaptability

–

Walking like a camel
with a big hunch, I drag
a baggage,

across roads and lanes
pause a while, hasten at times
unable to keep it down.

I carry on exhausted
knowing it will
be interred with my bones.

I keep forgetting
the nights turn agonizing
while my mind begins questioning
of things that have gone missing.

Half through the night

I wake up in fright
the lost ones come in sight
I switch on the light,

Those gone missing
start fast moving
more or less swinging
while I lay crying.

–

A city which never sleeps.
one that is as ancient as Athens,
echoes music all through the year.
 It is a place of trade and transaction,
 a seat of learning hosting the 3 Sangams
 where Tamil literature flourishes.

Braving invasions, the town
remains complacent
 and modest bereft of ostentation,
 it is a destination unsuitable for snobs
 extends a home to those who love
 simplicity and who practise
 modesty.

Like the Shrine of Meenakshi
 whose towers cast a benevolence
 this place called “Madurai “
 remains intact for some 2500 year.
 An historic city. with few shortcomings.
where the sun shines brighter
than elsewhere.

–