Meenas Poems

Come along , come here
 Come Meena amma 
the vendors  call
one displays the archana basket
the other  swings the rose 
and jasmine garlands 

Greeting them with a namaskar
I run to the sanctum
of Meenakshi temple, I am late, 
 Lo! the bells go, time for abhishegam.
which will last for an hour.
 I walk through the corridors
 eyeing each sculpture,

  the artistic excellence,
the way they depict the legendary 
manifestations keep me in awe.
 The bells chime ,the curtains go up 
  bejeweled Goddess Meenakshi
 smiles. The devotees cry
Amma, Amma, prostrate 
at her feet.

  

Busy going on errands
being  only two,  does not
 make the task  any easier,

Do not say only two, atha,
 you have three more
with you, points my son.

Listing out the vegetables
weekly, the grocery fortnightly
fruits every fourth day.

 accounting  to the pie, I manage 
The thought of  spending too much
gnaws me while I sleep.

Mornings pass off peacefully,
 as I am occupied, nights turn
horrible.

Attributing to a mania,
 or a phobia, my sons threaten
if you continue we have

to seek appointment.
with a psychiatrist, 
Oh!  no, I am not that bad!

Pulling my sari 
up to the knees,
 which  I never do
I walk towards the beach.

The waves ebb in
 and flow out gently
not anything uncommon 
fascinates me 

I go  a little inside
 the waves reach up 
to my knees, The water 
along with the sediments

wash my legs, recede 
 in a timid flow, One such 
 wave strikes me with 
a blow. I tumble, 

the water takes  me
to a distance of 10 meters,
terrified I withhold my tension,
I regain my  stand 

slowly reach the shore
   I Straighten, set right 
 my drenched sari
 gather my poise,

look at the azure ocean 
I envisage a phenomenon 
that of eternity unfolding 
to reveal the ephemeral,

 I

The South Westerlies 
become active, rains
pour steadily,  
every night 

 Cadential in their pour 
similar to the beats
  of the Rupaka tala.,
I presume,.

Thakita , Thakita 
 Thakita,  raps 
the rain as it falls
in rhythm.

Listening to them 
in awe, I start working 
on the beats not 
one  hits wrong. 

 Fits to the set period, 
so well crafted, 
the rain continues.
unabated.

It is like a play
by a mirdangist
 a solo performance,
in earnest,

 I stayed awake till 
2 in the night,
 my bed pulled 
near to the window,

humming a song 
set to Rupaka tala.
I recline, rain gradually 
wanes. slumber  slowly
overwhelms.,

I have been watching
 the rise of gold price,
 silver prices as well.

A rise always as seen
 with no dips, keep me 
 worried.

I have been following 
the markets for long,
 cautious I go about.

Intra day transactions 
make my heart race,
 one minute it is high

 the next second it dips,
eyes glued to the computer
 I buy and sell the whole day.

feverish I turn, decide to 
put trading away for a day,
That be not the case,

 the next day I am into it
 transformed into an addict,
if I miss a day, I pine 

being so tempting and rewarding.
the alibi cut short my socializing,
 robbed me of other interests,

to get away, I went off the grid
 stayed for a while, contemplating
on how to recover.

I came out off it partially,
still do with restricted time 
 and  confined  funds.

stands  a dwarf
amidst the  huge.
mango and jackfruit trees.

Mango and jackfruit  spread 
 far and wide , present a canopy
towering over the garden.
Picturesque to espy.

The orange tree 
reaches to their middle
competes with them 
in yield.

 Its fruits, no bigger 
than gooseberries, taste 
 sweet and sour,  could be
 gulped  in one mouthful.

I collect hundreds of them,
 extract the juice, to make 
orange squash.. A delicious drink 
 I store for months.

Mom gets furious 
when she sees the 
six of us sitting 
on the steps.

 She leads to the study. 
The six of us march 
behind, scared 
of her outrage.

Adjusting her spectacles 
she looks at our eyes,
 think why does she get 
 provoked, 

She thunders, 
Six together on the steps 
 will invite  evil eyes 
bring unsolicited effect,

From the  kitchen, she 
 picks three red chilly, 
 ten black pepper pods,
salt and a coconut. 

Cook Alagu, makes 
us sit  on the floor.
He goes around us thrice.
Sings aloud a song,

to ward off the  cast 
of the evil eyes. He hurries 
to the main gate without 
looking back,

 breaks the coconut.  Lights 
the camphor throws chilly
and pepper onto the fire.

Did you sense  a pungent 
smell? mom questions Alagu , 
 Yes, I sneezed thrice, amma.
 

With a  handy tool
in hand , I traverse
 boundaries, include
 countries, states, 
districts.

From home I govern
 instruct, transact,
 dictate, account,
write, build, direct
and detect.

 My fingers tap
  the buttons, in seconds 
 I reach Delhi, place orders.
next stop is Jodhpur where 
I buy stone artifacts,

Off I fly to my estate overseas
 supervise  harvesting,
monitor  transporting,
 schedule  manuring
pay wages.

Back home,  I teach 
my new cook, Oversee 
the tidying. Portfolios 
of an housewife weigh 
heavily on me.

All packed up in a 
 a five foot two inches 
frame,  the chores take 
 a toll. Exhausted 
I fall on my bed, my 
 mobile, the handy tool 
turns off. Power gone,

The frame and the mobile 
recuperate to start 
the next day anew.

Vaishali,  granny 
to me in a way
 enters her home
 at 6 in the evening.

She sits in the verandah
 watches people returning
 home. She calls  out each 
by their names.

Jana . she calls
 where are you going ?
The called one hurries
 does not  bother to respond.

Her behaviour annoys granny,
The next passer by  is
Raji,   smart and friendly,
greets granny. 

Toothless grin lightens up  
Vaishali’s demeanour,
Raji respects elders, Jana
is an impudent imbecile,

grumbles granny. The others 
take a round about path 
 for fear of being interrupted 
by Vaishali

The old lady sits for a while
seeing none in the lane.
 she moves to the interiors
where her grand children.

are at their desks, The kids 
chuckle as they see her enter.
 She  pats the little one. kisses  
her namesake grandchild 

 She refreshes herself 
in  her chambers. She unpacks 
 a big sweet box. homemade 
distributes to the kids.  Gives 

a large piece to the younger 
Vaishali,  a replica 
of the elder, as much curious 
and  as such delicate,

We have borewells at home.
 One, two and three,
 going to the depths.

 150 feet, 450 feet, 1000 feet. All 
have turned dry, forcing  us
to procure water.

Expenses above expenses,
we build a tank in the garden.
Store the water for ten days, 

 fill the water tank at the top 
every day. Electricity  bill 
inflates

The bought water is adequate 
 for our personal needs, insufficient  
 for the garden, which wears a deathlike pallor.

In between, I  water the plants 
and trees, shortening the period.
ten days  to five, They require  much more.

I  do  with pain and shame
 How conceited I am?
 I chide  myself. 

 Heartless, callous
 wicked, I stand, making 
  a wretch of myself.