Posted on Leave a comment

You saved me Krishna. A humorous poem

You have many to feed you

You can enter any kitchen, any time 

steal butter, fresh and pure.

 

I peep into neighbor’s kitchen

‘You here?’, yells  the Mami 

‘Can I see you for a minute?’, 

I plead.

‘Wait in the foyer 

Till I adjust my sari layer’.

 

I wait for an hour 

Mami  still before the mirror!.

 

‘Panthikokku -roasted smell from your house’

Alerts mandhi Paru.

Pandhikokku is peruchAzhi or bandicoot,

Mandi Paru, the obese lady in the opposite house!

I don’t even roast bread, who roasts a big rat?

I rush back home.

 

OMG, i had only one wife and one bed

The wife had gone, now the bed is floating!

I had left a water tap fully opened!.

 

And why this charred smell every where!

I rush to the kitchen, the stove is on

The vessel with water was bright and round

When I kept on the stove ,

What you call this new shape and color?

My geometry is poor.

 

I look up. 

The ceiling is still seated  on the walls;

I look at the mirror,

My head is still safe on my shoulder!

You saved me Krishna, you saved me!

Posted on Leave a comment

A poetry from the flight

 

‘Soda or juice?’

Enquired the air hostess

In a sweet voice, neat dress.

‘Whiskey with soda’.

‘One or two pegs?’

‘Two, if you don’t mind’

Two pegs of whiskey, too small a base

To let my mind for a wild goose chase

But wonder how I asked the girl next to me

‘What is death, you the prettiest on earth?’

‘Death is going, going away for ever’.

‘Whither, you,  charming as  a peacock feather’ 

‘You’ll know, not now, when you go’, 

She turned aside, twisting her eye brow.

‘Attractive are your eyes’.

She bloomed, looked deep into my eyes.

I said, 

‘Death grabbed her from me,

But she didn’t go, she is still with me.

In the turbulent ocean of my inner deep

She rows in a small boat ;

Deep inside my soul 

She shines as a pearl.

Above my hardened heart of Meru 

She shines as a star.

Look up mademoiselle, can’t you see her sheen?’

‘Sorry to say old man,’ she was firm,

‘the moment she left

She ceased to be yours,

Like your exhaled air, 

Like your dropped hair!

‘Cruel you’re’, she admonished

‘Your love for her has demolished

Her chance of turning a divine bird

And carry on her back the great Lord.

Be bold, free her from your hold, 

Loosen the string in your hand 

Let her fly far and high

She belongs to the sky,

And not to you, and not to you’

Posted on Leave a comment

On my 82 nd Star birthday

The penance of an young mother 

From whose hands, the Fate, like a predator,

Scooped up her first son, 

Was fulfilled 

When another son was born.

He is eighty plus two today

Vrichikam, Hastham, his Star day.

He was happy then, 

As he made his parents happy, 

He is happy today 

As he makes his own kappy! 

He’s neither a Muni nor a Sani

From God’s garden, he says, he receives honey !

God alone knows whether he paid any money!

He is not crazy, not fussy

Ever  breezy, as he takes life easy. 

Happy birthday, SP

You’re really lucky!

Posted on Leave a comment

Ice cream share

Kids get ice cream without asking, but not me
So, I cried like a kid, argued like an young son
Pestered like an old man
And earned my ice cream!

Unique is the happiness of sharing
Ice cream with kids,
Secret with a trusted friend
House with own family
Life with own woman!

Sorrows ?
Grief and pains, I share with God
I pour them as Ahoothi
In the Agnikundam
Of my heart.

Saw a picture one day
While pouring the ghee of my pains
May be dream, may be my imagination.

A boy with a pencil in hand
An eraser attached pencil
Dancing on the tongues of fire.

He draws sketches
And He erases.
He makes the wounds
And He heals.
He makes me to swim
And when I was washed away by floods
He was at the end not as a boy with a pencil
But as the ocean to receive me!

All the pencil sketches will be erased
All waters will join sea
Till then,
Let me share with kids my ice cream
Let me enjoy the life’s cream!
This is not a dream, this is not a dream
Why scream?

Posted on Leave a comment

I emptied all my boxes

Emptied all my boxes, bags and baggages
Emptied totally.

Will I be able to empty my mind
Of my desires, longings,
Sorrows, regrets?
Things, my own
Things not my own?
And empty totally?

And where do I keep the unloaded stuff
They are not clothes or books
They are thoughts.
How to transfer, whom to transfer
My desires, sorrows, regrets, longings?

I emptied many boxes
Don’t know how to empty a small pouch
Inside me, but beyond my reach!

Leave it, let it remain as such
When I can’t do much!

19620749-501D-4FD0-BD86-5FA35C2A0B70.jpeg

Posted on Leave a comment

Let me be relaxed

Thanks my Lord, my inner guard!

For your blessings in abundance
For giving me children with fondness,
For giving a body that obeys
A mind that shows correct ways!
Enough money for day’s charm,
Enough peace to stay calm.

What do I lack in life?
Nothing.
Let me be relaxed
Like the kids.

Problems will come,
Problems will go
Time gone is gone
Way back not known.

No head, no headache
I have a head, so headache!
Glad that I have a head.

Gods have no problem.
You’re joking!

Let me be relaxed
Like the kids.

Posted on Leave a comment

An ode to head-loads

My head- load is increasing
Ammalu, please stop teasing.

You weren’t a pumpkin as now
When I first carried you on my head,
You were a ripe plantain peel
Shot at me by your mom,
Expecting you to pull my legs
Wisely placing you on my head
I handled you like a kid;
Now you handle me like a kite!

Then I carried your mom on my shoulder
The heavy -weight boulder
She pressed and changed my head shape
I too pressed back,
Poor thing had no escape!

Then I carried my children and grand children!
Happily as my dad used to.
The music from the anklets
When their tiny legs kicked my chest
Flows in my soul still
Continue ever it will.

My dad too would have had that thrill
While crossing the river,
Me on his shoulder,
To watch the chariots rolling.
Knee -deep and hip- deep was the water
My water -chariot waded out to the shore.
No push, no pull
When love is full.

Comes to mind alive
Not the shining gods ,
Not their dazzling chariots
But the street vendors
With half opened bags of puffed rice
Pushcart loads of halva and dates.

Comes to mind alive
Not the big drums or long pipes
But the tickling sound of little toys
Some rolled on the ground
Some creaked when moved.
And the little paper fans
In the hand of the street vendor
Turned and turned, I laughed.

I’m now crossing a river
Like my dad, with a head load.
My affection carries the weight
Not my head, so it is light.

Help me to wade and reach the shore
God, who lifted the earth, as a wild bore!