Dreamy Eyed.

Dreamy eyed Shreya
dreams not of fantasy
As a toddler, she wanted to fly
like a butterfly high up in the air.
Did she fly?

She, as a kid
wished not to go to school
loved to be at home
sleeping and eating,
playing in the garden.
Did that happen?

The girl in her
longed to have a
hair up to her knees
the free hair would fall
into a tumble,
enhancing her charm.
Did she possess one?

Honours she achieved
all through her course
visualised herself
as a Professor, a Dean
waxing her knowledge.
Did she foray into teaching?

She entered the business.
Saw herself as a chairperson
of a conglomerate. Being involved in
successful ventures both
in her country and overseas.
Is she in such a pivotal place?

She still dreams
of winning accolades
and laurels in her writing
becoming a Poet Laureate.
Did the ambition see the light?

Dreamy eyed Shreya
gazes at the stars
even in her twilight days.


Will My Dream Come True?

The world has in its expanse ocean, mountains and terrains. Men, animals, and reptiles occupy that available space both in water and land. Along with them trees and plants exist extending a habitat to insects and birds. A conglomerate of living organisms defining Existentialism to the word.

Literature is the one which is dear to my heart. The reading expands my thoughts and the writing extends my beliefs. Culture is the twin of Literature. Both grew in the past and grow now hand in hand. Their repository and depository enforce a travel to the realms of imaginative regimes.

Well, I dream of culture. Not only a dream, but an obsession which gnaws me with such a composure that I do not sleep without thinking of the cultural paradigms I experience knowingly or unknowingly.

I own a land of twenty-five acres on the outskirts of my city. It is with me for three decades now. In my prime years,  I manufactured yarn. Had to wind up when the industry was hit hard by the recession.

The land and the building lie vacant. In my travels abroad and during my visit to places in India, I saw many outfits where they promote culture. I really want to do one such project on my property.

The dream haunts me for years. I hatch propositions not once but a hundred times.The pity of it, they never see the light. It is not due to the deficiency in execution, but because of the paucity of funds I confront. I am not able to mobilise. I pause and drag.

In my dream trail, I start a school, being not a regular one, where the children learn by rote and write the examinations. It is a school where the children are let to play, chat, discuss and create. My school will not follow a curriculum, will not have a timetable , and books. Classes will not be segregated All the children irrespective of their ages assemble ,pursue their interest, read the book of their choice, go out , explore and then sit down to pen of what they went through the whole day.

Next , I want to build replicas of the homes of our ancestors.The Tharwad and the Nalukattu of the Kerala Namboodiris, the Mutham, and Thinnai of the Nattukottai Nagarathars of Chettinad, the Goan-style architectural homes and the Agraharams of the Brahmins.

The traditional arts are losing grounds. I like to revive them , bring out their significance  and place them in the entertainment programmes. I propose a schedule-  training on the folk dance of each state,  teaching the martial arts and  the culinary expertise of the communities in my Puradhana- the name of my dream project.

The age old method of pounding rice, sieving them, and the cooking utensils like the brass utensils, big and small, one used in the household and those needed for weddings and festivals should be displayed.  Thrilled would be the present generation.

The practice of extracting the oil by installing chakku or oil machines. A pair of Oxen is tied to the wooden frame and made to go round impelling the machine to rotate. As the rotation gains momentum the coconut filled in the chakku yields and the oil drips. A slow way but certainly a proven method which will ensure a freshness and the longevity of the oil. It is free of chemicals.

The Vedas, a treasure, passed on to us by the ancients are not taught. The Western influence dominates. Sanskrit is a divine language. It is dying. Catch them young strikes me at this juncture.
The younger kids with their memory fresh and enthusiasm overwhelming would in no time master the language under proper guidance.

Cultural Renaissance is my dream. It is not a one night dream but one of a decade.


I am blogging about my dreams and passions for the Club Mahindra#DreamTrails activity at BlogAdda. You can get a Club Mahindra Membership to own your holidays!



Life is A Dream

The taunts
do not dissuade Veda.
The hurt deep
leaves not a scar.

Veda extols a confidence
outstretches not too much
accepts the good with grace
and the bad with equanimity
faces humiliations with a fortitude,
comes out of struggles unscathed.

Her inimitable drive
to acquire knowledge
clubbed with
her passion for writing
has earned her a reward.

The way Veda sees life
differs from the rest
she looks at the stars
when others ride through the dust.

An ever hopeful girl, Veda
never loses heart and cheer
laments, not for the lost
cherishes what is at hand.

She accepts life
with a twinkle in her eyes
” a bird in the hand
is worth two in a bush.”

Nice to have her as a friend
great to hold her hands and run
fun to be with her through
thick and thin.

She sings with blithe
Lewis Carroll”s
“Life is but a dream”!
in full-throated ease.



Lying on a soft bed

with a softer pillow

she was dreaming

something of red

with a halo

came across jumping

she lay still  for long

did not move  in fear

she  wanted to catch

the one danced along

she wished to tear

intended to scratch

the thing eluded her grasp

as it moved in hop and stop

the redness intensified

she held her hands in a clasp

she fell down in a flop

she was mystified

being one of a dream

she woke up with a steam

looked around with a beam

ending the nightmare.mystified









I Dream Often.

I dream often

some being good  in all

I feel happy.


I dream often

some turn bad in all

I feel sad.


Good and bad

make us happy and sad

as it has.


Let us not

be overjoyed or be desperate

by  the ways.


Happy and sad

are abstract terms in all

not being virtual.


Be  with them

as they come and go

not too often.




My Own Little Town

I had been to a town
very simple in tone
 had no fan fare whatsoever
 small  and beautiful as ever.
It had all the comforts dainty
 shops and temples in plenty
parks and play areas were  many
sophistication not so  any.
The people were simple and smart
 went  with their work as if in a chart
bothered not about cast or creed
 never one felt high of his breed.
The town being a quiet one
 proposes to have a lot of fun
music and dance  being the way of life
 the geniality felt was beyond any  strife.
Never could one see such a town
 perhaps  had an opportunity of my own
 nay I do not want to fool you more a time
 came in my dreams not once but many a time.
It was my  thoughts that created it
 if real could be one of a great hit
if it turns out to be true by grace
would turn out to be a lovely place


landscape Poetry song

My Dream.

It is a dream of long

now comes in a song

the usual blue sky

the fresh waters in a way

with the landscape hilly and terrain

along with stretches of plainsmy dream

took me for a while

then I changed my style

the art and artefacts

the architecture and replicates

wone me over all the more

made me cross the shore

a little after in a strange

I went out of range

the writings and the prompts

forced me to attempt

I indulged in writing prose for a time

as always something in me chimed

poesy held me in a sway

for the present I am at the poetic bay

dreaming to become a poet

not an ordinary one in quiet

but one who commands and demands

who is appreciated with a “wow ” and a stand

well, that is my dream as of now

would I fulfill it I am yet to know.


The Midsummer Dream

The midsummer dream

of sunshine and pleasure

induces one to take leisure

as it is a season of treasure

great and clear of nature

bounteous in its fruitfulness

caressing in its expansiveness

weather  of sensitive exuberance

where growth is  in predominance

while life  enjoys a reverberation

be that one of  great exaltation

trade and transaction are  buoyant

cheer and spright  are flamboyant 

a  season so nice and cordial

though one has to go through an ordeal

of hard work and strain in diligence

yet a respite in general  and in advance

as the fall and winter  come forth

which provokes one to a loathe

as the snow and cold knock one down

and the brows knit in a frown.



Grandma Calls.

Slept I like a log

a while forgot my blog

a peaceful sleep it was

nothing to disturb at any cause

hours went by in length

came a call with strength

was about to wake up

when a hand-held me .

I saw a woman in her mid fifties

smiled she with love

caressed my hair with care

felt she had a piece to share.

She called me by name

I looked so tame

wondered how did she know

a woman from many decades ago.

With a graceful move in all sides

asked what made me talk about her

more frequent these couple of days

is there any reference of case?

I blinked all the more in a quandary

said she with poise she is my grandmother

who passed away sixty-seven years back

few months before my mother’s wedding.

Startled I sat up with a shock

said she not to panic at all

in a very soft tone told me her life

when she was a devoted wife

a mother of five children

sacrificed everything for their welfare

yet not remembered by any of them

during their life time all the more.

They became the shadow of their father

great was he in his achievements rather

they knew that she was the woman behind

yet not commemorated her in trend

she did not bother about fame in life

she yearned for a reciprocal slight

Is it an unusual demand? she interrogated.

not at all grandma, I meekly replied.

My children are dead and gone

your mother was the last to go

You sing about me very late

I read your poems about me

they made me happy and sad

wanted to pay a visit to you

to offer a big thank-you.

I held her hands with reverence

apologizdream comes true.ed for my late impasse

somehow I told her these two days

her memory crossed me all the way

set the recollections in a canvas

the best one would be in my blog

the private area where I log.

Well, this would circulate through

let my cousins read through

my nieces and nephews understand

the woman who was both pleasant and stoic

realize the suffering she endured all her life

physical ailment was not well attended to

leave alone the agony of the mind .

Where are you? I whimper

I am to my place you answer

say you with a shine in your eyes

at least I remain vague in your memory

you who have not seen me at all

retain a trace of my memory

with that satisfaction I fly back

my blessings always unto you.


A Dream

Click here to Submit Response

Click here for editing text (Only Author)


Meena SJul 13, 2014


I had a dream
it was in a stream
water was in gleam
the sunlight fell on the beam
the ambience was in a seam
Indeed, it was a lovely dream.
Set sail in the boat swiftly
saw a whale deadly
moved towards me rapidly
blinked for a moment hopelessly
Indeed, I sat there ghastly.
The whale dashed against the boat
tossed and turned it on the float 
down I went into the moat
engulfed by the whale stout
Indeed, it was a total rout.
I cried bitterly in fear
felt a nudge from the rear
the situation was out of gear
thought the end was near
Indeed, it was a panic jeer.
The alarm rang for long
I woke up to a song
caught my foot in the wrong
staggered in a way oblong
Indeed, it was a dream all along.



Meenakshi Somasundaram.