Category: thoughts

 I used to drive up and down

 participating in events

wearing a silk saree, jewels

 making myself presentable.

Draped in a starched cotton saree 

 wearing just a chain, a bangle 

 ear studs,,I spend time in 

 with my companions – books and laptop.

Writing I do, a passion and a practice.

with interest.   it is for satisfaction, 

never with a desire to see them in print.

 I know mine is not worthy.

Living like a hermit neither 

cross legged, nor meditating in remote hills

  stay right in the center of the happening 

 place, at the same time  away from the crowd.

Requirements   have diminished. 

Partaking food is a necessity. Waking 

and sleeping turns a routine.    

Semblance to a wildflower,

which needs no tending, no manure,

Flowers, blossom dazzle bright, keep cheer, 

dance with the wind. pleasing none.

Withers unnoticed.

 

,.

 .

Waking a deal assigned 

to the early hours

readying for work

gobbling a quick breakfast

Stride on toes.

 Midday, with the sun atop

 slows down the piquancy

 pulls down to a dormancy.

 a hefty lunch invigorates.

Legs drag and falter.

Dusk enlivens, a regeneration 

on the move., a closure 

 a desire to be with the family 

enlivens. Heart races,

A run with glee!

 Sapped of energy

 it is night, darkness

 encircles. body aches,

 longs for a slumber,  

 restless legs testify. 

A dogmatic living, in course

time governs, confirms firm

conducts principally, concludes 

parabolically, Unassumingly, Time 

Gridle slips in with legitimacy.

Prompt — Mystery of Time.

taste so peculiar

They mix and match so well

As felt the mouth waters

 eyes shrink when sour

 turns wide when the sweet  

drips unassumingly.

 Half ripe, a little yellowish

 mostly green the mango

 round and robust shines 

 with no cosmetics. on.

 Underneath the wrinkle 

free skin lies the fleshy pulp.

Unable to resist the temptation

mercilessly, I cut the fruit

 into diamonds which ape  

the gold bars 0f 5 grams.

I stare at them for a time.   Wishing 

  to preserve the beauty.

I refrain, subduing the desire.

Relentless tongue lisps up and down

 rolls and rotates fierce. No more.

 Prick gently on the diamond shaped 

bars, the impatient tongue 

quickly smacks the fruit.

Superb taste!  One by one

 I gulp with undefinable 

 felicity. 

 . 

Fiery red and pure white

take honourable status

 in the prime slot.

Sweet pink and bright yellow

condescend to the dignified 

 position of the next, not anyway less

Double coloured ones stand a step back

 acknowledging their mixed 

 pedigree.

Tall creepers express their fecundity

 in volumes mostly in bunches 

 professing a bow.

The rose blossoms deliver 

an unblemished status, beautiful 

superficially, profound intricately.

 A symbiosis of life’s cycle,

 a prognosis, initially a. challenge, 

with force.

 followed by an achievement with pride 

 finally, a withdrawal synchronized with 

humility.

  .

Snowing, I never heard 

 in my region all these years.

The hilly areas record

 minus 4–10 degrees

A day before, Ooty, a hill station 

 In South India experienced snow fall.

A climate change, I vouch

a northward move, I presume.

 This trend is universal, not confined 

to my region, South to North and vice versa.

Could there be a split? pushing continents apart.

an oceanic aggression might happen.

Predictions are on fire.  End of 2024

 would witness   a disaster.

Islands would sink in sea. Land areas 

would be occupied by water.

 Man is not alone in experiencing

mood swings. Nature is his accomplice.

Hide and seek out there
sun comes out stays
for a while, disappears.

A light drizzle for minutes
downpour for seconds.
 dry for hours. it is the rain play.

The day passes as such
tottering and tethering
Nature holds control

Birds foresee disasters,
 animals react in advance.
 it is man who stays ignorant.

His pursuit for worldly riches
distances him from the environment
stays   dumb and deaf,

Material and money
create an alchemical
 transference in him

Animals turn wise,
show compassion,
turn humane.

Man reaches the space
leaving the world behind,
 a detachment transports

him and his race to a nether
world, he loses his human
considerations, turns a beast.

An entry ebullient.
The feet that touched the head
 displaying a serpentine posture,
 the legs that struck to the cadence
exactly like the trot of the peacock
 the knees that squat elegantly while dancing
unlike the shoddy exercise ones
 the hip that swirled and whirled
like a windy breeze. not too harsh.

 Staying stagnant.
The nimble feet have turned wooden
toggle and struggle to walk,
 the slender legs appear stuffed
like a pillow, painful penetration
the rounded knees wobble
as the pivotal hinge joints give away.
the hips have lost proportion with pounds
of flesh loosely hanging. presenting
an awkward gait.

That was and that is
the present and past

afraid to think about future,
the lower part of the body
evolves and devolves,
once an apple of the eye
currently exposes a fungus
 ridden fruit, oozing out,
 in the verge of decay,
A process all species undergo
as years gallop

–.

On Sundays my abode virtually shifts
 to a noiseless place.  A haven
in heaven.

 Early morning my brass bolstered
red gate displays variegated items,
Newspapers shoved between them

milk sachet in a suspended bag.
I engage in solving sudoku and crossword
 puzzle, hunger creates a commotion,

My criminal tastebuds do not brook
 unpalatable food, demand the best
taken out of stove.

if salt, Karam, go astray the tongue  
mercilessly denies permission
forces a revision, heartless autocrat,

Washing the vessels, drying them out
in the sun, a diabolical practice I do,
embroils me.

In the unmanned house, I am
the only woman running errands
 heaving and mumbling

In the midst, I question,
 why do Sundays come
week after week?

I am quiet, like a hummingbird,
sing and talk to myself, become quieter in days,
exist like a butterfly, minding my portfolio,
turn quietest in years, an antithesis of a
cackling duck. People call me dumbbell.

Being singled out by the family,
where own blood sucks like a parasite
who behave like a sly fox– treacherous
engaging in conflicts creating rancour
forces me into hibernation.

The external, I find even more tantalizing,
ugly politics disenchant me. Motivated
 by the snail’s, who finds bliss in its shell
 I retreat into a world of my own.
 Distanced, I prolong, from din and dust,

Back home after a jaunt.
a fortnight of being away
sets in a longing, in spite
of the other being my own.

The second, a recent addition
conspicuous for its grandeur
beautifully styled, a fusion of tradition
and modern architecture

gives me a sense of pride
not one of belonging.
Alighting at the porch, of the old
I experience a sensation,

 nostalgic. As I stepped in, I could
visualize my mom opening
the door.  I hugged her. She softly
presses her lips on my head.

—