Meenas Poems

Fortunate I am
to live in a house
with comforts.

I have nothing
much to worry
food and shelter

being granted,
I am well poised
and carefree.

Occasional physical
hiccups, leg pain, test
my withstanding capacity.

I rue and lament
frequently check
the sore knees

stabbing at times
shooting otherwise,
limiting my mobility.

Why me? I cry
Killing, I scream.
never once I realize

mine is a trivia
compared to those
who suffer irreparably.

So feeling,
I try to forget
the inconvenience.

Lo! having been quiet ‘for a time
I indulge in self sympathy,
with ahs! and ohs!
as if the world is lost,

The cock crows
Cock a doodle doo.
I am up in bed.

In my study, while
revising my writing
hear the Cuckoo’s call.

Coo, coo it caws without
break. Distracted,
I bang the window,

As I walk down the aisle
to collect the news papers
a raven caws in a croaked voice.

Placing the paper on the sideboard,
the love call of the peacock
holds me for awhile.

Opening the backyard.
the sparrows while pecking
chirp incessantly.

The day has begun well.
Birds and I work together.
Our portfolios well in order

Close your eyes
it i darkness.
Open them
you see colours
black overtakes
other hues.

There are other ones
blue, yellow, brown
and so many go ‘unnoticed.
It is black that catches
the eye with reference
to race.

The recent, Kamala Harris.
picked by Biden, flashed across
news agencies in the world,
term her as Black, Afro Asian
by birth, mother Indian,
father from Jamaica.

Kamala, an attorney by profession
rose to high ranks, she being
a well read lawyer, The reference
to her colour signals a repulse,
the not too encouraging attitude.
Discrimination is far too rampant
in American society.

Power sector, In India
the largest government
owned company
with high revenue
and higher number
of employees, operates
without any discipline
committing the
Indian public undertaking
to disgrace.

I happened to go to
the office in my area,
hosted in a shabby building
manned by two women, one
an illiterate, the other
a little more educated,
display ignorance, The only
furniture a table full of stains,
the chair rickety, rooms
ill ventilated, stuffy smell
cause a repulsion.

The Electrical Engineer pays a quick visit,
rushes to supervise field works
does not return to the office.
goes back home, his day is over.
He is a recipient of four digit
salary , perks and concessions add up.
Indian government offices
function with such efficiency,
eating up the people’s
money leaving the public
in the lurch.

Sticking to old practice
which my mom inculcated,
I have not shampooed my hair
treat my hair with Shikakai.

I have not been to a beauty parlour,
not once to be frank, Kum kum
is the only cosmetic I use,
right in my forehead
it is blood red.

To say so I have not spent
a pie towards manicure,
waxing, pedicure, foundation,
mascara, rouge. Well,
I know only that much.

I follow a schedule
Tuesdays, and Fridays, oil bath,
the other days regular baths
with home made soap. No sauna,
no spa. Very frugal.

The same goes with medicines,
Mostly take nothing to cure cold,
fever and cough, At times
swallow a pain killer, very recently,
my knees being the culprit.

Ginger, ‘turmeric, black pepper,
garlic, lemon are added liberally
they are less expensive extend
immense benefits. A short walk
around my garden is the only exercise.

Artificial is not my word.
I live close to nature
with trees, herbs, hedges
standi tall in the garden,
lending shade and greenery.

Cats, squirrels, birds, bats
nimble, peck and consume
the first bunch of fruits, I
find seeds scattered all over
indicating that fruits have turned ripe

I might sound archaic,
it is how I am made of.

A flight crashes
splits into two
scores die.

Land slides
houses lay buried
dozens die.

Pandemic spreads
almost everywhere
millions die.

Natural causes,
man made errors,
end up in casualties.

I burn the midnight oil
memorizing, writing, and working
geometrical riders and algebraic
problems.

I byheart poems and formulas
quote from memory is alloted 10 marks,
My voice echoes through the staircase
penetrates to the living room

My siblings call me ” mike”
address me as ” mug pot”
tease me to the core,
upsetting my routine,

I quickly pick myself up
continue memorizing,
increasing the volume by few
decibels to irritate them.

They do not leave me in peace,
complain they cannot concentrate,
the matter goes to higher court
where mom presides.

hearing both sides
she with a practicality,
one of great intrigue
to me even now,

pronounces the verdict
“One cancels the other,”
so none of you are wrong.
“What do you mean”

I blurt in anger, She retorts
” I mean what I say”
“Go back to the study,
each one do your work”

She never adjourns
dismisses our representations
instantly, leaving us
in a quandary

My town on the banks of River Vaigai
remains quiet through the ages,

It neither cries for attention, nor
commands perfection.

A town where transactions
abound, where trade

and commerce flourish, anything
finds a market, salt to diamonds,

silk to bricks, pulses to grains,
fruits and vegetables, sold

and bought the retailers,
wholesalers and people,

keep the town afloat,
idealistic in preference.

a town that never sleeps,
lives from dawn to dusk,

engages from night to morning,
a strange scenario, turns

a phenomenon illustrious
of its nature,

The big village as many refer
takes pride in its shrine

which hosts Goddess Meenakshi,
where elegance and style

are interpreted in graceful
dimensions. With festivals

all through the year, the town
exhibits a ceremonial texture,

Called as Madurai, where Madhu
denotes nectar, the alliteration

explains best the density, divinity
and sweetness associated with the town.

River Sarayu flows
as gently as it could
reverberating the chants
Sri ram, Jay sri ram
as the little town
on its banks Ayodhya,
the Rama Janma Bhoomi
is teeming with activity.

The Temple pulled down
by Muslim invaders
gave way to Babri Masjid.
The dispute ran for centuries,
through generations ,comes to an end
by a judicious verdict pronounced
on 9/ Nov/2019.

Finding proof there existed
a Rama Temple the construction
starts with a fanfare, Silver bricks,
golden ones along with the clay
pieces pile up in the site.
The temple is off the mark.
An historical event commending
appreciation.

River Sarayu continues its journey
unmindful of Rama or Rahim.
To her both are one and the same,
the faces of Gods might be different
the names might differ, the worship
might vary but the belief in God
is unanimous. The spirit of
Rama will sustain. the faith
in Allah will support.

Opening my back yard
I find two ripe mangoes
on my doorstep.

I bend to pick them
two more falls
on my head.

Gathering myself
I turn in
to get a basket.

Three more knock
me down. Beaten up
almost everywhere,

I rush to the kitchen
take a big basket, hoping
to collect a basket full

Lo! no more fruits
the tree stays still
I get back with
quarter basket full.