Category: A03 — POEMS

The wish of every father, every mother

The Sun yet to shine bright
The women yet to tie their plait
Why hurry for breakfast,
Were you for a week, on fast?
Is it fair, not to share
Even with the lady dear
Seated so near?

Little Sidhu cried for milk,
For me, dad’s blessing clicked!

He didn’t say, ‘you’ll become rich
He didn’t say, ‘you’ll build a castle
He said, ‘you won’t suffer
For want of food,
For want of clothes’
And I haven’t so far
And I haven’t so far!

I see before my eyes
Young and able guys
Unable to eat, unable to drink.
Food they have in plenty
But, die stomach empty,
Their body machine’s wreck
Play havoc.

Like my father, I too pray
‘Let my children never suffer
For want of food
For want of clothes,
Let none in the world suffer
For food or clothes, ever’

Is not that the wish of every father?
Is not that the prayer of every mother?

File foto from New Jersey

Don’t please , compare me with you.

You may be a lion,  me a lamb,

You may be divine, me a devil

So what ? I’m me, my mother’s child.

I’m not all good or all bad,

I’m  with my own good and own  bad

I can’t become you and you can’t become me

I’m me, my mother ‘s child.

No duplicate copies in God’s press

All original, incomparable

So you be what you’re

Let me be what I’m.

When I lose my way and go astray

When I slip and fall,

A hand lifts me up!

Isn’t that yours?

When I fight for my survival

About to be disarmed and defeated

An armory Impenetrable for the  enemy- sword comes from nowhere

And covers my chest

Isn’t that yours ?

When my hands go weak and the boat doesn’t move ,

The waves nears to swallow me

The shore moves towards me;

Aren’t you that shore ?

Will you my Lord ,

When my eyes fail to see, ears fail to hear,

Come close , very close to me,

And play your flute, go on playing

To cheer me up and lift me up ?

With ‘sambaram’ in hand
And Sangeetham in heart,
Bright Sun everywhere,
Kids playing around,

I was sitting in the veranda.
My children with families
Here, after many days
Festival in Baltimore home,

Though, all around Corona booms
Mind flies back to my old days
As it does often.
My old wound pains,

I turn to my Kartha.
‘It pains, my Lord!’
‘Time leaves nothing unleveled,
Gone your thorny weed,

What you have , is a cashew seed
In the Payasam, in your hand,
Bite it and walk on ‘
‘Sambaram in my hand

Not pudding, Lord !’
My Master smiles,
‘Remove the ‘kariapakku’ leaf
And enjoy the liquid!

The leaf will go, but the smell’ll stand
What else do you want?’
What a great lesson on the Gurupoornima Day!
From my Father, Guru and Master!

The leaf will go but the smell’ll stand!
I will go but my fragrance will stay !

PS- Sambaram is butter milk further diluted and flavored with coriander leaves.

“Have an urge to run, but can’t even walk.

Love to sing but can’t even talk.

Sleep I desire, but she doesn’t come near”

No problem, friend, Sky is there, Earth is hear!

Keep aside your books, you love them I know

Lying on the bed, peep tho’ the window

Enjoy the clouds, moving aimless

Life is not a mess, it is a bliss! 

‘Things are not easy’

It won’t be easy, if you think so.

‘Everything is easy’

Not at all! 

‘Life is tough’

Yes, it is, but you’re in it! 

‘Life is easy’

Oh, man, I go crazy! 

‘Money is precious’

Indeed, but you can’t eat it.

‘Money is waste’

Soon, you will be on the street! 

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!

 

‘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’

 

Got up and went to sleep again

Which kingdom have I to gain?

Life is best with none to question

Wife is best where none to answer

Knife is best when nothing to cut

Strife is best when none on street

With none to question, none to answer

How long will last this dancer?

Buzzzzzz one day should go up me

But till then,  enjoy honeybee 🐝 !

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!