I close my eyes while I talk 
unaware of what happens around.

Do not know when and how 
I got this.  Looks  strange,

 I have seen  my mother do
this, exactly the same way.

 With eyes shut, putting 
my finger in the ear hole,

to keep away from the bustle,
I listen to  a presentation.

My cook calls me ” amma, amma,”
I stay unaware,

Someone grabs my arm.  indignant
 I scream.  “How  dare you touch me?”. 

My husband  encapsulating  my arm,  
stares hard. Infuriated  I shout.

The cook vanishes while we 
throw tantrums at each other. 


Oh Ranjini!

“I have to be short,

 put my views briefly

 I will summarize”.

goes on Ranjini.

“It is an event

 can I term it as one happy

 or could it bear  grief.

she harps.

It is a feud,

 means little to many

 significant to few,

she races,

The focal point being

 a squabble, between 

the most and  the least

Ranjini continues.

“Rajini,  I hail.

You have so far

not come to the point.

A drab !”

 “I am making it short,

 condensing,  to the core, 

 presenting the  synopsis,”

Oh ! Ranjini , I cry.”



Distancing from the kin
 a kind of relinquishing 
from the ties, almost 
similar to the clouds 
that fall apart, scatter
after enacting a drama
where their congregation
 being intense predicts
 heavy rain, finally 
there  be a few droplets.

Relationships, filial, sibling,
 matrimonial . whatever they  be 
 have to end at one level
cannot go on like a long train
 with several carriages, puffing 
 and dragging.  Long associations 
demand great expectations 
which lead to a derailment.

Keeping this in mind
a withdrawal, steady 
and gradual, more so 
like the deaddiction 
program, will ensure 
a  consistent, healthy 
outlook of life, going 
with the maxim absence 
makes the  heart grow 


Sublime And Simple

The events that happen 
could I summarize 
as those of the day to day 
 ones, not anyway concerned 
with politics, theatrical,

those I encounter daily
commencing from the milk man’s call
the paper boy ringing the bicycle bell
the vegetable vendor walking 
through with  a basket on head.
calling out the names of the vegetables.

My maid  sweeps the front yard 
sprinkles water mixed with cow dung
draws a flowery design  with rice flour
a tradition  followed in every South Indian 
home,  I did this with love earlier,
discontinued due to weak knees.

Cooking  starts  vessels
and ladles confront each other,
 the zing sound while making dosa,
 is   imbibed  in the whistles of pressure cooker,
 an aroma loaded with flavours from main 
ingredients, tamarind, chilly, pepper, 
enriches the  dining area.

Bell  chimes from the Pooja 
when aarathi is performed .
he oil lamps glitter with 
a steady glow,  benzoin 
fumes create a divinity. 

 An amalgamation of simple 
with  sublime



Missing passwords,
mixing accounts,
 logging with wrong ones
I make a mess.

Accounts get barred ,
mails do not open,
I try again and againthe system collapses.
Banks demand change 
of passwords, once a month
the older ones should 
not be repeated,

I am into many both necessary
 and unnecessary.  Passwords 
create a jumble, I fail 
to unravel.

Passwords should have 
upper case  and lower case 
alphabets along with
numerical and  special characters,

I have been careful 
saving them and keeping 
them in memory. This day
I have gone astray, I cannot unlock.


Poor Me

The maids of mine
one a in her twenties
the other in late fifties
confront each other 
when I am around,
engage in pleasant 
conversation when 
I stay away.  A ploy 
to fool me.

I  eaves dropped 
in the morning, the peak time 
of their duties. The senior,
spoke in hushed tonewhile the junior talked loud.The older one would have said 
I assume, just do a hap 
hazard work when madam 
is not around.

The inexperienced girl 
turns apprehensive “Will she not find?”. 

The fifty year old advises, tell her ” you did”, 
 do not change your reply to her continuous 
questioning which she is prone  to do.
The girl  unsure, she continues 
her work as instructed, The old woman
walks off in disgust,

Encountering me in the corner
she smiles peevishly, 
I wanted to show her way out,
 having to retrieve a fair amount from 
her given as advance in salary, I keep  
quiet, pass a sharp look, that will be 
enough to agitate her,   An  expensive 


All Happen In A Day

The rains come
with a momentum
a heavy downpour
inundating high and low.

The sun rises
shines with a brilliance
scorching the places
plains and hills.

The storm blows
in high velocity
bringing roofs down
a collapse unthinkable.

Flooding dries up
Heat subdues,
Wind abates.
All happen in a day.



A tribal woman walks fast
a pot in her head, with
a toddler toeing behind
a little one  in her hips.

Balancing the pot
pulling her child
she makes haste 
her bare feet

turn red while 
treading  on the burning 
tar. The child cries bitter
his tender feet burns. 

the baby whimpers 
unable to tag any more
soaked in his mother’s 

he pot remains intact
not a drop falls down
her balancing is perfect
her move though in a hurry 

is measured. The trio reach
home where granny 
waits for them  with 
a toothless grin.

The mother places the pot
in the kitchen, lights 
the firewood starts cooking
nursing  the baby.

The man intoxicated  to the brim
returns home screams at his wife
or her tardiness. He beats her 
in and out,.

The woman smiles, teary eyed,
her body bruised  badly,  The baby sucks 
with force, painful her other child
 nudges close to granny.

The man moves out with a plate
full of rice and broth, the boy reaches 
out to  his mother, wipes her tears
takes a handful of rice  and  tries to feed her.

Granny lies helpless fuming.
wanting to hit her son, 
refrains as he is inebriated.
The family goes to sleep
to wake up the next day


Adieu Pal

Having exhausted his manipulations
Pal in his living room looks at the art 
pieces his mom had carefully placed.
Each one tells an anecdote
that happened years ago.

Swans in light blue and white,
displayed on the  sides, stand 
for purity, love and majesty,
Lord Shiva placed between 
the display cabinets,

professes  destruction of evil
God of Justice  occupies
the center, Had Pal 
cast a look at anyone of them
his life would have turned significant. 

A library divides the living 
and the dining. Books being  
his dad’s collection, while the 
other side displays crockery,
porcelain and silver.

They remain untouched as Pal
spends time in aspects of life
destruction, creating 
chaos and fury, the ethereal  
does not fascinate him.

Leaving Pal at this juncture,
I turn to the exotic,
look at the lofty, think 
of the exquisite,  Thoughts 
of him stifle and choke.


Pal And Swamiji

Pal is associated 
with a religious mutt
where the Swamiji 
turns his devout. A reversal. 
instead he following 
the religious head. it is 
other way  round.
an incidental reference 
 to substantiate
Pal’s  skill.

Swamiji ‘s followers
 unable to toe with their Guru 
decide to quit. Pal  acts swift.
 Brings in his friends 
who, needless to say,
 possess the same 
qualities of Pal.
The mutt becomes 
 a society where discussions 
other than religion 
take place.

It becomes a center
for illegitimate conventions. 
Swamiji  becomes terminally ill.
Losing its identity the mutt
 heads for a closure. 
The funds and the building 
slip into the hands
 of anti social elements.
Amen to  God and Religion.