In The Shrine Of Thirukadaiyu

Athan  enacts a sensitive scenario,
 incredible proposal and  unbelievable disposal.
 where Yama rushes
to the sanctum  riding
a boorish buffalo .

 Yama, the one who takes life,
throws a long rope to catch
 Markandeya who nudges
close to Athan. The chord
 entwines  both,

Bewildered, Yama withdraws
 pulling both  from their seats,
 Markandeya closes his eyes in fear
Athan embraces the boy.

Markandeya , safe in the hands
of Athan, breathes life with ease.
 He has  been granted the extension of life
 he beseeched. Could this be termed
 turn of destiny?

Athan — Shiva
Markandeya – one who was destined to live till 16.
Yama  – God of Death


Few Miles To Go

It is always I do
staring and staring
so hard and deep
till my eyes fall out.

My round eyes stand out
though they are  deep set
 controversial it might be
but it is true.

That has become my daily affair
 looking far into the horizon
 jumping over hedges and fence
 over to the infinity.

Should I attribute this to age,
 solitude, or to my reluctance
 to mix with society?
 I really do not know.

Days and months pass
 I turn into a hermit
 sitting amidst chaos
 far away in mind.

Like a river I flow
knowing  well I have
got few miles to go
 a few, before I sleep,



Very much into the mundane
funds, revenue, haunt me
deadlines, commitments
tear me apart,
as I recline in exhaustion.

Rupee ebbs and falls
promises scare me, I count,
calculate, tabulate all through
‘the night burning the mid night
oil, My eyes beseech.

I keep going with a drive.
Unable to remain alert
I fall asleep and in the dream
the currency floats, assurances fly
I sink slowly into a coma .


I Resemble A Mafia

Travelling out of town
a rarity in the last two years
when most of the days I stay home
doing all sorts of activities online.

Moved out for a week and a half
the roads seem new, so do the people walking
with masks covering the mouth and nose
with distraction, most wearing under the chin.

It is life once again bubbling with energy
apprehension of the deadly virus
wanes gradually and normalcy
is more or less back though demure.

I, for one a stickler to norms
going out for the first time
with gloves and mask perfectly adorned
sense a fear to mingle with the crowd.

Distancing myself from those around,
I resemble a mafia, my eyes roam
my hands turn fidgety as I clasp
and squeeze them with force.


That I am Into

A break, a long one
had been into many sojourns
one overlapping the other
some outsmarting the rest
more of them very demanding
driving me mad.

With my fingers inside the pie
messy and sticky they turn
pulling them out will turn a disaster,
letting them like that propels
a helplessness, I face both
with a dilemma,

From doing every other thing
feel having done nothing
an emptiness I find around
a folly I am into unknowingly
I stay wide awake almost
through day and night.


Not to Take The Call –3 Lines

Going about in a tasking
realize it is a masking
decide not worth the asking.


My Girl

Wish I had  a girl
hair falling in a curl
eyes   shining like a pearl.

I dress up one of my boys
 who walks with poise
guffawing  with a noise,


There I Am At Home

Having been at home 
for almost two years 
 I have no thought 
of how I look

A saree  goes around me 
 fully starched  and ironed
gives me a comical  image  
-a stuffed puppet.

My white strands of hair 
 have become dominant
 perched high on the head 
 gifts me a matronly poise.

Of recent, I starch my blouse
 which remains stiff  tending 
not to get crushed,  posing 
 like  a  military colonel.

at least in attire, as I 
am known for my easy 
way to handle duties  being 
far too lenient with my staff.

How am I going to change 
if the world opens 
to travel and commercials.
 I chuckle, 

visualizing my status on board
of a plane when I have to go back 
to my second home, the co passengers
will reel with laughter,



I Fix The Door bolt

I stand on my toes
 to put the latch in place.
 it slips, comes down.
 I raise my toes a little. 
 the latch  seems merciless
  falls down with a creak,

I have to fix the one
before going to bed.
Eyeing a low stool
I feel I have hit a bonanza,
drag it to the place
 try to get on it.

No matter how low it be 
my limbs turn rigid,
knees remain still 
the stool looks like a monster,
Oh ! only my toes 
manage to be supple.

Pushing the stool in fury
 I toe up and up
 the latch goes up
 and fastens perfectly.
I retire thanking my toes
give a gentle press. 


A Wait

A day of wait
the one from near
the other from dear.

Both are to come
the tag with business prolongs
the link with relation pulls along.

it is anxiety that takes control
a fruitful turn meaning a definite
could bring rewards infinite.

Pacing up and down’
restlessness settles
uncertainity nettles.

I sit unmoved
with fingers crossed
eyebrows twitched.

A message flashes
reads, results will be known
tomorrow in the afternoon.