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Monday, March 20, 2017

கல்யாண மாலை கொண்டாடும் பெண்ணே

கல்யாண மாலை கொண்டாடும் பெண்ணே என் பாட்டைக் கேளு உண்மைகள் சொல்வேன்
சுருதியோடு லயம் போலவே இணையாகும் துணையாகும் சம்சார சங்கீதமே

(கல்யான மாலை)

வாலிபங்கள் ஓடும் வயதாகக்கூடும் ஆனாலும் அன்பு மாறாதம்மா
மாலையிடும் சொந்தம் முடிபோட்ட பந்தம் பிரிவென்னும் சொல்லே அறியாதம்மா
அழகான மனைவி அன்பான துணைவி அடைந்தாலே பேரின்பமே
மடிமீது துயில சரசங்கள் பயில மோகங்கள் ஆரம்பமே
நல்ல மனையாளின் நேசம் ஒரு கோடி நெஞ்சமெனும் வீணை பாடுமே தோடி
சந்தோஷ சாம்ராஜ்யமே...

(கல்யாண மாலை)

கூவுகின்ற குயிலைக் கூட்டுக்குள் வைத்து பாடென்று சொன்னால் பாடாதம்மா
சோலைமயில் தன்னை சிறைவைத்துப் பூட்டி ஆடென்று சொன்னால் ஆடாதம்மா
நாள்தோறும் ரசிகன் பாராட்டும் கலைஞன் காவல்கள் எனக்கில்லையே
சோகங்கள் எனாகும் நெஞ்சோடு இருக்கும் சிரிக்காத நாளில்லையே
துக்கம் சிலனேரம் பொங்கிவரும்போதும் மக்கள் மனம்போலே பாடுவேன் கண்ணே
என் சோகம் என்னோடுதான்...

(கல்யாண மாலை)

Thursday, September 29, 2016

drive for the future

Please drive carefully in the road.  Obey traffic rules at least when your son or daughter is accompanying you.  Don't become a bad role model

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

my prayer

Prayers are rare in my lips
"i prayed after a long time", i said to Maya
"What did you pray?", was the lovely inquiry
"God i am happy and i thank you", was my prayer

i regret having shared this to her

Monday, October 19, 2015

காவியத்தலைவி

பெருங்காவியத்தையும்  மிஞ்சிவிட்டாள் அவள் 
ஆயிரம் வரிகள் கொண்ட காவியப் பதிப்பின் 
முதல் பக்கத்தில் இருக்கும் அவள் பெயர் காவியமாக தெரிகிறது 


Epic Girl

She exceeded the exuberance and grandeur of the epic
When i borrowed her book that contained the greatest epic
i could not turn on the pages, but to stay admired on seeing her name in the first page

Saturday, August 15, 2015

travel to uthamapalayam

பேருந்தில் எதோ  ஒரு பெரியவர் என்னிடம் தயங்கியபடி பேசினார்.  பூ விற்று வாழ்கையை ஓட்டுவதாகவும்  மூன்று பெண்களுக்கு மனம் முடித்து வைத்துவிட்டு  நிம்மதியாக நிம்மதியாக மனைவியுடன் இருப்பதை தெரிவித்தார்.
"பொண்ணுக வீட்ல போய் தங்க கூடாது.  நமக்கு கை கால் நல்லா இருந்தா போதும்.  நல்லா நடந்து பழகு எதுக்கு எடுத்தாலும் ஆட்டோல போய்ட்ரிங்க", என ஆதங்க பட்டு பேருந்தில் இருந்து இறங்கி நடையைக்கட்டினார்.
உண்மை தான்.

Friday, July 3, 2015

The Helmet Saga



Tamilnadu government has announced that everyone should wear helmet from July 1.  This announcement came a month before and people are frantic about the issue and the issue of buying and wearing helmet.  Today when I stopped at a street vendor to buy guava fruit, I stopped my bike and removed my long owned helmet.  The vendor, a middle-aged woman, greeted me as if she had known me for a long time.  She claimed that my helmet disguised me and that she was not able to recognize me.  Even I could not recognize her, other than she being a guava fruit vendor and I am being her customer.  I bought a kilogram of guava; mean time she complained that wearing helmet would give rise to roadside burgles and chain snatchings.  This would increase crime.  The criminals can easily escape with their faces forged with a helmet.  She even narrated an incident of chain snatching in a street nearby.  People are coming out with many such reasons to avoid helmet from their lives and driving.

When I drove back home I thought about the goodness of helmets.  Only next to saving your life in case of fatal accidents, helmets in Indian roads would be a harbinger of spitting in the roads by the two-wheeler riders.  I think our cities would be free of those thoughtless spitting of saliva.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Beware of _______

Who taught to whom?
        to bite and backbite,
        to wag one's tail,
        to let the tongue out of the mouth
        and run behind women
        to assault one's own race,
        to urinate anywhere and everywhere,
        to do pelican crossing
man to dog or dog to man?

Monday, October 6, 2014

Women Gods

Both! Yeah both're
Sometimes golden,
Sometimes brassen,
And a stone
Attention seekers
Many eyed and eye bearers
Loves flowers,
Gold ornaments and decorative clothing
Omnipresent and omnipotent
     yet could never be seen
Epitome of kindness
     quenching thirst with blood offerings
Bathed in water
     stone and iron batter
Test the one's who believe
       yet will never let them go
Sanctum santorium, the womb
      all encompassing, closed eyes
A pleasant smile
     women and gods takes us miles.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

வானம் எல்லை இல்லை

வானம் எல்லை இல்லை 
அவளை இன்னும் நான் 
முழுமையாக அடையவில்லை 

Friday, April 18, 2014

நிலவின் நிலவு



நிலவு எனக்கு பிடிக்கும்
அங்கு செல்ல ஆசை
அங்கு என்ன இருக்கும்?
அங்கு எப்படி இருக்கும்?
கற்பனை மேன்மேலும் உந்துகிறது

ஊர் பார்க்கும் நிலவு
ஊரால் பார்க்கப்படும் நிலவு
ஜென் துறவியைக் காட்டிலும்
அமைதி பூண்டு இருக்கிறதே

நிஜத்தில் அப்படி எப்படி இருக்கமுடியும்
அதைப் போல் தனிமையில் யோசித்தால்
ஆஹா நான் தவம் இருக்கிறேன் என்பேன் 

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Ear-ringing

i noticed, as i drove my vehicle,
an earring of a woman,
gold plated and shinning,
like an umbrella opened on a summer day
a red bead cling out of it was dangling in air

"your earring is gorgeous", was all i wished to say her
driving happened to be the problem

the woman, the owner of the earring,
in another vehicle touched her,
touched her earring,
i felt happy
may be my thoughts would have rung to her ears!

Friday, August 16, 2013

Independence Day wishes

15th August 2013

One of my student wished me,with joy, "Happy independence day sir."

my mind retorted,pathetically, "sorry boy i'm married!"

(i did not have independence to say it loud)

சுதந்திர தின வாழ்த்துக்கள்

"சுதந்திர தின வாழ்த்துக்கள்" , என்று வாழ்த்தினார் ஓர் நண்பர் 

"மன்னிக்கவும், எனக்கு திருமணம் முடிந்து விட்டது" என்றவாறு நகன்ட்றேன்

Friday, July 26, 2013

பெப்ஸி மொழிக் காதல்



பெப்ஸி மொழிக் காதல் 
என்னவளை பார்க்கச் செல்கையில் 
"இந்த தாகம் பெரிதாக", இருப்பதை உணர்வேன் 



அவளிடம்  ஆவலுடன் என் காதலை தெரிவிக்க 
"ஓ யெஸ் இப்போ", என்று நேரம் கூறும் 


அவளைக் கண்டபின் வீடு செல்கையில் 
"இந்த உள்ளம் கேட்குமே மோர்"


ஆனால் அவள் பெப்ஸி அல்ல குடித்து தாகம் தீர்க்க 
அவள் என் இரத்தம், என் உயிர்ரோட்டம் உயிர்ப்பிக்க 

Sunday, December 30, 2012

my Exact Act

i am a hypocrite
       at every instant of my life
i act good 
       before my students
                  my parents and friends
Eureka!  People say i act
       when i'm natural
my act doesn't act
       when its me alone

EVEN THEN i couldn't 
       unleash the ME
               for
i'm bounded
                   within four walls
and left without the pain-giver!

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

ரண வேதனை


எனக்கு கஷ்டம் வரும் வேளையில் 
அவள் என்னுடன் இருப்பதில்லை 

அவள் இல்லை என்று புலம்புகிறேனா 
கஷ்டத்தை கண்டு கலங்குகிறேனா 
என்று சோதிப்பாலோ?

அவளின் நிசப்தத்தை எண்ணி இதயம் இருக்குகிறது 
கஷ்டங்களை எண்ணி மனது மடிகிறது 

எடுக்கவோ? கோர்க்கவோ?
எதை எடுக்க? எதை கோர்க்க?

அவள் இருந்தும் இறக்கிறாள்,
இறந்தும் இருக்கிறாள்.

என் காதலி என்ன யானையா?
இருந்தும் ஆயிரம் பொண், இறந்தும் ஆயிரம் பொண்.

யானை தான் போலும்!
காதல் யானை, காதலி யானை.

வாழ்க்கை வாட்டுகிறது, காதலியும் வாட்டுகிறாள்.

யானை சவாரி செய்ய இஷ்ட்டம் இல்லை எனக்கு 
யானையான காதலே, யானையான கஷ்ட்டங்கலே 

என்னை மிதியுங்கள், அல்லது வேறு யானையை துரத்துங்கள் 


Friday, March 16, 2012

என் மாயா என் பிரச்சனை

ஓரிரு வாரமாக சரியாக பேசவில்லை மாயாவிடம்... 


ஒரு மாலை பொழுதில் அவளே என்னை அலைபேசியில் அழைத்தால்.  அவள் வீட்டில் பல பிரச்சனைகள் என்றும் அவற்றையெல்லாம் அவள் ஒற்றை ஆளாக சமாளிக்க வேண்டும் என்பதையும் தெளிவு படுத்தினால்.


மீண்டும் ஒரு வார இடைவேளை... மீண்டும் ஒரு மாலை பொழுதில் அவளே என்னை அலைபேசியில் அழைத்தால்.


"என்னடா ரொம்ப நாலா உன்ட நான் பேசல நீயும் சண்ட போடல, அதுக்கு என்ன திட்டவும் இல்ல!",  ஆச்சர்யப்பட்டாள் என் மாயா.


"எனக்கு நீ தான் உலகம்.  எனக்கு நி மட்டும் தான் பிரச்சனை,  ஆனால் உனக்கோ ஆயிரத்து எட்டு பிரச்சனை, அதுல நானும் ஒன்றாக விரும்பல.  i love you forever and miss you forever", என்றேன் நான்.


சந்தோஷமாக வீட்டுக்கு நடந்தால், தெரு முனை வந்தவுடன் என்னை பார்த்து புன்னகைத்து விட்டு திரும்பினால் கண்களில் காதல் சந்தோஷத்துடன்.



Monday, February 27, 2012

உன் கன்னம்

உன் கன்னம் என்ன எளிப்பொரியா?
அதை வருடிய என் கைகள்
ஒற்றிகொண்டனவே உன் கன்னத்தோடு!

Thursday, December 8, 2011

நான் உறைந்தேன்

          எங்கே போகலாம் என்றால் எதோ ஒரு கோவிலுக்கு என்பது அவள் பதிலாக இருக்கும்.  ஒரு நாள் அவள் ஆசைக்கினங்க ஒரு  கோவிலுக்கு அழைத்துச் சென்றேன்.  அவள் அந்த கோவிலுக்கு புதிது, நானும் தான்.  நான் அந்த கோவிலின் வழிப்போக்கன் மட்டுமே.

      "நேத்து இந்த கோவிலுக்கு வந்தேன் உனக்கும் புடிக்கும்ம்னு தோனுச்சு... இனிக்கு வந்துட்ட",  காதலியிடம் பொய் சொல்வதும் ஒரு சுகம்தான்.

            "பரவாலையே நல்ல பெரிய கோவிலா தன் இருக்கு."

            அவள் கண்கள் கோவில் உலா வந்தன.  என் கண்கள் பிள்ளையார் போல அவளை மட்டும் சுற்றியது.


     "எவ்ளோ சிலைகள் இந்த கோவில்ல!  நல்லா இருக்கு டா", பரவசம் அடைந்தாள் என் அழகி.


          "ஆமா நேத்து கூட இவ்ளோ சிலைகள் இல்ல.  உன்ன பார்த்த ஜனங்க தான் இப்படி ஆகிடாங்கனு நெனைக்குறேன்", என்றேன் நான்.


            "எப்படி ஆகிட்டாங்கலாமா?", வினவினால் ஆவலோடு.


   "இப்படி ஒரு அழகு சிலை நடக்கும்போது நாம் யாரும் குறுக்க வந்திரகுடாதுன்னு நினச்சு சிலையா ஓரஞ்சிருபாங்க", விளக்கினேன் நான்.


          "சாமி தான் பா சிலையா இருக்கும்", என்றால் தப்பிக்க.


          "நீ எனக்கு சாமி தான் பிள்ள",  விடவில்லை நான்.


          "அப்ப நீங்க என் உறைஞ்சு போகல சார்?",  அவள் விடுவதாக இல்லை.


          "உன்ன  பார்த்து உரையாமல் உன் பின்னால் இது போல் எப்போதும் திரிய வேண்டும்னு இந்த பக்தனுக்கு அருள் புரிஞ்சது மறந்துருச்சா என் சாமி?"


          "நீ தான் என்ன காப்பத்தனும்",  வெட்கத்தில் இறைவனிடம் முறையிட்டால்.  நான் உறைந்த நிமிடம் அது.





Wednesday, August 10, 2011

துணை


நனைந்த படி வாகனம் ஓட்டி வந்தேன் 

மழைத்துளிகள் துணை நின்றன 

என் கண்ணீர்த்துளிகளுக்கு...
 

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

அவளின் திருவிளையாடல்


அவள் கைக்குட்டை போல் 

என் மனதையும் வைத்து விளையாடுகிறாள் 

என்னவளின் திருவிளையாடல்களில் இதுவும் ஒன்று 
 

Friday, February 18, 2011

வாசனை!

காலையில் குளித்து விட்டு,
                     
       எனக்கு பிடித்த வாசனை திரவியம்

தடவிவிட்டு அவள் அருகில் செல்வேன்

      புதிதாய் தோண்டி எடுத்த கேரட் போல.



அவளோ குளிக்காமல்,
      
            சோம்பல் முரிதுக்கொண்டிருப்பால்,

வியர்வை வாடையும், அவளுக்கே உருதான வாடயும்மாய்

          சோம்பல் முறித்து மலர்ந்த மொட்டு போல.



அரை மணி நேர படுக்கை கூடலேரும்

                                 இருவரும் மாற்றி மாற்றி அப்பிக்கொள்வோம்

எங்கள் மீது....  எங்கள் வாசனையை!



Friday, September 17, 2010

Punishment in Kindergarten - Kamala Das



Kamala Das is famous Indian woman poet.  She writes poem in support of feminism.  Her poems are marked with frankness and courage.  She, unlike other women poets, is more daring and expresses her thoughts openly against men, customs and other women too.  The poem Punishment in Kindergarten talks about Kamala Das’ childhood day wherein she went on a picnic, which did not allow her to enjoy and relish life.

Kamala Das was called as Madhavi Kutti at her young age.  When the poem opens, Kamala finds herself in a more commanding position and capable of taking her own decisions. Unlike in those old days of early childhood where she recalls the mental pain caused by her kindergarten teacher; a woman wearing a blue frock throwing negative words at her like the throwing pots and pans, to devastate that honey-coloured peace of mind that dwells in a peaceful child. The teacher used to torment Kamala by her words saying that she was a peculiar child; strange often in an unpleasant way; who is reluctant to join others for a play.
  
On the lawn, Madhavi Kutti’s classmates sit together sipping sugarcane juice-turning at each other's faces, chatting and laughing their way to glory. Indeed children are funny things. They laugh at the expense of other's tears of sorrow in mirth; formal laughter or happiness. She buried her face in the sun-warmed hedge; a row of bushes growing close together and she smelt the flowers and the pain in the same manner to fuse or melt (ore) in order to separate the metal contained.
           
After being punished, her words are muffled and the laughing faces of her friends are only a blur. The years have moved on speedily and have stopped briefly at rare incidents of sad events. At last, she discovers that she has discovered that she has found an adult peace. There is no need to remember that picnic day while in kindergarten when she laid hidden by a hedge, watching the steel-white sun standing lonely in the sky.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

காதல் சண்டை

காதலிக்கிறோம்...

                      சிறிதாக சண்டையிட்டோம்

அட அதற்காக என்னை

                      திரும்பிக்கூட பார்க்க மறுக்கிறாள்

இந்த தாண்டவ திமிருக்காகவும்

                                           காதலிக்கிறேன் நான்

                                                                            அவளை!

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Goodbye Party to Miss Pushpa T.S.

Introduction

Nizim Ezekiel, a famous Indian poet, makes fun at Indians and their way of using English. Indians have their own use of English, which is different. This poem ridicules the Indian functions and the funny behaviour of Indian speakers.

The poem is about a send-off party to Miss Pushpa, who goes to abroad. Her colleagues have gathered at one place to wish her bon voyage. One speaker, through whom the poet ridicules the Indian culture and language, speaks the whole poem.

The character of Miss Pushpa


The speaker, throughout the poem, talks about Miss Pushpa and slowly reveals her character. The opening lines reveal two different characters of Miss Pushpa. First is that she is intelligent, because she goes to some foreign country. The second is that the speaker calls her as his sister. This sows that Miss Pushpa is a woman of some respect.

Miss Pushpa has a smiling face. The speaker says that Miss Pushpa is always found smiling. She takes life in a happy way. The speaker also says that Miss Pushpa is kind. She is kind at heart too. She is popularly known for her kindness among many men and women.

The speaker also talks about her family background. He says that she comes from a rich family. Miss Pushpa is also known for her helping tendency and good spirit. The speaker says that whenever someone approaches Pushpa, asking for help, she would never say no. She helps everyone at all times.

The Use of Language in the Poem


The poem right from its first stanza makes fun at the way we speak English. In the first stanza the speaker says that Miss Pushpa will depart in “two three days” instead of “two or three days.”

Instead of saying that Miss Pushpa is kindhearted and gentle woman the speaker says that she is sweet both ‘internal’ and ‘external’. In the same stanza the speaker instead of saying that Miss Pushpa is a pleasant looking woman he says that she is “smiling and smiling even for no reason.”

While giving her family background the speaker says that she come from a ‘high family’ for saying ‘rich family’. The speaker’s deviation while talking about Surat shows the Indianism. He remembers his past, when he went to Surat to stay with one of his uncle’s friend.

“Just now only I will do”, is again a mistake committed by the speaker, when he attempts to say that Miss Pushpa would do things within minutes.

Conclusion


The speaker of this poem is not given a definite identity. We do not know whether it is male of female speaker. Nizim Ezekiel by hiding the identity of the speaker renders the mistakes to every Indian in general.

Good Manners

Introduction

J. C. Hill is a famous English writer. J. C. Hill’s Good Manners is an extract from his famous book An Introduction to Citizenship. This essay talks about the manners one should have in the society.

The story of the young man

The author opens the essay with a story of a young man. The young man would be very proud of himself. He would be selfish. He never minds about others. Once a disease attacked him and then it was difficult for him to walk and stand in the bus. Only at that time, he saw others, who were unmindful of him. He was cured and later he started helping others. Through this story, the author wishes to say that we should care for people around us, which is a good manner. He asks us not to laugh at the old people who find it hard to cross the road. He says that our laughter will turn back to us soon, as it happened with the young man.

Speaking in company

He asks us to be cautious while speaking with others. If we are talking with another person, we should give him a chance to speak too. If they do not speak, it means that they do not want us to talk too. Then we are asked to be listener cautious too. If we speak of some subject, we should be aware of the fact that the listener might have a different idea about what we are talking. The author gives different meanings for the word socialism for different people.

Understanding ourselves

The author advises us to understand ourselves before teasing or talking ill about others. He gives several examples for this. If an old woman asks a boy with scout uniform whether he is a scout boy then the boy should explain himself. He should not scold her for being silly. He also says that none of understand ourselves. He gives an experiment as an example. The experiment conducted in a college in which the students were shown a bull picture. Some students said that the bull’s tongue was out of its mouth, but it was not so. The author says that every one of us are not aware of ourselves and we should take care of what we argue and speak.

Conclusion
The author concludes the essay by saying that there is not single truth in the world. What might be true to us might be false for someone else. So he asks us to cultivate the good manners of understanding other people and not hurting them.

The Progress

Introduction

St. John Ervine's The Progress is a deeply moving anti-war play. It presents before us the crudeness of war and its aftermath. The play in itself carries a war raged against the scientific progress that is happening all over the world to shatter human kind, into pieces.

Professor Corrie


Throughout the play, we could find Prof. Corrie busy with his experiments, formulae and mumbles. Prof. Corrie is engaged with his new invention so that he forgets the rest of the world. He forgets to bring his sister, Mrs. Meldon from the railway station; he forgets to listen to the knocks at the door by the servant, Hannah. He even forgets to talk with other persons.

His regular activities are to give a slight laugh, to murmur and to feel happy about his new invention, a powerful atom bomb. Prof. Corrie never refuses to give away his stand of scientific view of the society. He is a strong believer of war as a means to peace.

Mrs. Meldon

Mrs. Meldon, even before she appears on the stage is said to be mourning. She feels sad about the loss of her son, Eddie, who was killed at the age of 19 in the First World War. Her mind is fully occupied with the third anniversary of her son’s death. That is the reason she orders a wreath.

She refuses to come out of the past. She feels very bad about her loneliness. She also refuses to accept with Prof. Corrie’s thoughts. In short, we can describe Mrs. Meldon as a sensitive woman, who is filled with emotions and motherly love.

The War between Corrie and Mrs. Meldon

Corrie and Mrs. Meldon are poles apart in their view of life. In the play, we could see Corrie to be happy for his new invention, whereas Mrs. Meldon is sad for the same reason. Corrie compels her to take a broad point of view and look at war in a new patriotic manner. Mrs. Meldon does not accept to Prof. Corrie instead she views the world and war as a mother.

Their conflict rises into a pleading. Mrs. Meldon requests Prof. Corrie to destroy his new invention. She feels afraid that Corrie’s new invention would destroy several young chaps like Eddie. Prof. Corrie is under the belief that he would have a best deal with the government and earn lots of name and wealth. He does not care for human life instead; he wants his name to be written in the history of wars. Mrs. Meldon stabs Prof. Corrie in order to bring peace in the world.

Conclusion

This play realistically portrays the rough hands of war and about the loss of human life in vain.

The Pie and the Tart

Introduction

Hugh Chesterman’s play The Pie and the Tart is set in 15th century France. It portrays the then French life in a humorous way.


The condition of Jean and Pierre

John and Pierre are beggars. As the play opens, they pity themselves for not having taken food for the past few days. Pierre and Jean are roaming in the street because they do not have a house. They both talk about their troubles. Pierre says that he was arrested for begging and the judge did not consider him as a human being. They both plan to get some food by begging.


Gaultier and Marion

They both decide to go to different streets and beg. Jean goes to Gaultier’s bakery shop and knocks the door. Gaultier scolds him and shuts the door. On the other street, Jean knocks the back door of the bakery and Marion, Gaultier’s wife, scolds him. Gaultier comes out of the house with Marion and says that he is going to dine with the Mayor. He says that he would send a person to take the eel pie from the shop for dinning. Gaultier says that the person would kiss her hand to get the pie. Marion agrees for the plan.


Jean’s Plan

Jean hears their plan. He asks Pierre to kiss Marion’s hand and get the pie. Pierre goes to the bakery and says that Gaultier sends him and he tries to kiss her hand. Marion believes him and gives him the pie. Both Jean and Pierre enjoy eating the pie. They both like the pie very much. Pierre says that he say a tart in their house and asks Jean to get the tart as he got the pie.


Gaultier’s Return

In the meanwhile, Gaultier comes home angrily and says that the mayor is not home. He asks Marion to give the eel pie. Marion says that she has given it to a person. Gaultier scolds her for being a stupid. At this time, Jean comes to the door asking for the tart. Gaultier beats and asks for the pie. Jean says that Pierre got the pie. He also brings Pierre to Gaultier.


Pierre’s Idea

Pierre comes there and says that he gave the pie to the mayor, who came home just then. He says that the mayor asked for the tart. Gaultier feels happy. He is cheated by giving the tart to Pierre.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Love Stor(e)y

I got into the lift (elevator)

............................It
............................Went
............................Down

............. She entered
............................I
............................Wentnear
............................Her

...........Another entered
............................She
............................Went
............................Nearhim

Ground floor - - - they went
............................I
............................Fell
............................In
............................Love

B A S E M E N T

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Zen in me - 1

Marching Forward Unmindfully
I was driving my vehicle, in a busy road, at a busy time. I drove with great care and regular pace-40km/hr. A man behind me kept blowing his horn. The road was wide; there was no one on my sides. The man kept blowing his horn. I kept moving at my regular pace. The man kept blowing his horn.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Cup Sssssssssip

An artistic creation, in my hands!
I take her and she slides as I wish
Transparent, nothing she hid from me

Now she lays open
Still she is clasped by me
She readily unfolds her warmth
My lips rubbed hers
I utterly nestle and succumb to her
My fingers keep running over her ribs

She quenches my thirst and is empty now
Ten minutes, everything ended between us
“Once hot and now arctic”, I mutter
I threw her debris
I am denied one more cup of tea

Sunday, August 23, 2009

A Dream I Dream

I had a dream…
I was with a girl! (let me name her as Maya)…

We, Maya and me, are in a beach, an unknown beach, with vivid water reflecting the sky. The sea is blue, a clear blue, exposing its corals and inhabitants to the outer world. Eagles and albatross keep flying hither and thither but never wish to take a plight into the water and scoop their prey. They maintain the serene atmosphere by keeping themselves aloof from plunging. It is better to fast than to perturb the calmness of air, they fancied themselves. The waves chased each other as kids do, when they are let out in an open ground after a day’s time spent inside a house. Everything is good with the sea.

The white foams carried by waves, like an emissary, try to climb up the mountain, forming a part of the seashore, adjacent to the sea. The mountain resembles a big wall, brown and uneven surface. Occasionally herbs sprout of the rugged surface. The herbs, green here and there, are like stars shinning here and there during darker nights.

The mountain stands erect, never seems to be moved by the strong, gushing winds of the sea. The waves thump them avenging their failure and incapability of moving the rock. The waves deposit some crabs. The crabs move sideways. They metamorphose their colours when they silt in the rocks. Tiny, little, birds are finding it hard to brawl with the crabs and win them as their prey.

The shore… the shore was filled yellowish sand. The colour was as though they are sawdust that comes after scratching a big teak wood. I find sand everywhere, no tree and no human beings except Maya and me. Not even a single palm tree to my sight. We both are there couched comfortably in the shade of the huge mountain. We both are occupying a small place that connects the seashore with the mountain crest.

There is no sound in the shore except hush of the fast blowing wind pushed hardly by the sea. I feel as if the sea sends the wind by compulsion so that Maya would not mind the burning rays of the sun (dreams have exaggerations and hyperboles please LET ME DREAM!). Maya is in her black dress, she is good with a smile, the smile that the waves are craving to taste. I stand as her guard never letting the waves touch her feet or taste her beautiful lips and so they fall without entering the shore.

I allow winds as my Maya wish to enjoy them. I keep watching her, her child like face and childlike play in the sands. She is screwing into the sand by using her tiny, tender fingers, just to see them closed by her other fingers. We speak no words. She occasionally shares glances with me. I am not able to take away my eyes from her eyes and busy fingers. Silence is eloquent.

Maya gets up from the place and she wishes to run around the beach. I say to her, “Its better to sit in a place and enjoy the place, by safely cuddling in my arms.”

“No, I wish to run. There is nobody here. I wish to be myself dear,” replies Maya.

“Alright, I have no objection. Try not to run too fast, so that you can avoid slipping in the sand.” I put forth my request.

“Why on earth are you here with me then? Will you let me fall down?” she interrogates and starts to run and hop around the place. She beckons me as she started to run.

I did not mind about the waves that are trying to invade into our territory, my territory. I start to run beside my girl. She is running by my side. She smiles as if she has done a BIG job, her seven years itch. I keep running by her side looking at her for some time and later I shift and gear up my imagination towards the waves that chase each other. I fancy the first waves to be my Maya and the second ones representing me. The second waves go at the back and I am going behind Maya.

I keep matching the pace of the waves with ours, as it happens with all of us when we walk with someone dear to us. We try to march with the same leg that our partner has, if we keenly concentrate on their leg movement. This keenness on leg movement would end up with us getting unconscious of the words articulated. I get lost in turning my head left and right. The sea is to my right and my girl at left. I left her unnoticed when my head is towards the right. During my sequential swing from left, I find my girl kneeling in the sand. I sit besides her smiling, which she admires many times. She too smiles at me…


There ends my dream…
I wish to dream the dream
I do not know what it all meant. It made me happy. It makes me happy.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

மதுரையில்... (Madurai)




அன்று: கொடிகம்பத்தில் ஏறி ஆடியது.









இன்று:பேருந்து ஜன்னல் லியே "ஏதோ" ஒரு பெண்ணின் துப்பட்டா ஆடுகிறது.









அன்று: வராதே ஆபத்து காத்திருக்கிறது என்றது.









இன்று: என்னை மட்டும் பார்கதே என்னை போல் நான்கு பக்கமும் பார்த்து வண்டியை ட்டு என்கிறது.









அன்று:கோவலன்.









இன்று: மாதவன்.









அவன்: இறந்தான்.









இவன்: ( எதிரே வந்த வண்டியை) இடித்து விழுந்தான் !









அன்று:கண்ணகி மதுரையை எரித்தால்.









இன்று: கண் அழகி என்னை கண்டு கொள்ளாமல் செல்கிறாள்!

Friday, May 1, 2009

நரகம்

இக்கதையில் வரும் அனைத்தும் கற்பனையே... (தப்பா எடுத்துக்காதிங்க )

காலை வெயில் உடம்பிற்கு நல்லது என்பார்கள் உனது காலை வணக்கத்தை சுமந்து வரும் குறுந்தகவல் (SMS) எனக்கு அதைப்போன்றதே. உனது காலை வணக்கம் என்ற இரு வார்த்தைகள் என் நாட்களை தீர்மானிக்கின்றன. என் நாட்களை முடித்து வைப்பதும் அவளுடைய வார்த்தைகள் தான்.

" கோ டு ஹெல்" ("Go to HELL") இரண்டு நாட்களுக்கு முன் அவளிடம் இருந்து வந்த குறுந்தகவல் (SMS).

செல்லமாக திட்டுகிறாள் என்று எண்ணியது என் முட்டாள்தனம். இரண்டு நாட்களாக அவளிடமிருந்து குறுந்தகவல் வரவில்லை...

நான் நரகத்தில் இருப்பதாய் உணர்கிறேன்!

Monday, January 5, 2009

Daily Lessons





Madhav's diary



26th December 2008 –




The dawn with a run of the mill opening. It is a holiday and I got up late. Holidays are for it, I unfalteringly believe. The day, a sunny one, faded in its own way. I did work proactively preparing for future lectures. I prepared a ppt presentation on NON-FINITE verbs, a real good work I think.






Dusk showed its face and I planned to go town to get new books for me. Mrs. Malar gave me Rs. 1000 to buy books for my department. I went to a shop and shoved the chit, which gave the titles of the books that I was in need. I notified the manager of the book company that they are a part of the syllabi, when the latter asked me the purpose for my purchase. When I gave the reason he said that they are not going to bill, but provide them as specimen copies, I was enthralled. There were several other books left in my chit, so I headed to another bookshop. The second bookshop was not that fitting, for they did not have the books in my roll and if they have at all, it was of shoddy quality. After purchasing them, I went to the third bookshop – to buy books for my little nieces. I parked my vehicle deliberately at a long distance, with the simple reason that I could have a walk. I purchased two books – one in Tamil and other in English, with stories and illustrating pictures contained in them.






As been said earlier I walked along the wide road before Madurai railway station. I strolled, zigzagged, even jumped when men standing in the platform spitted their saliva not minding of pedestrians who walk along the platform. As I crisscrossed the crowd of congested people, I met a woman in plain green saree, standing at a distance beneath a white light. Something in her attracted my eyes. The way she wound the saree, the single streak of her saree that traced a good silhouette of her body, the contrast of her dark skin with that of the pale coloured attire, many such outwardly appearances would come as reasons for me to gap at her. I never thought that she would see me at all, that is an added sense of courage and that encouraged my eyes not to shift from her. As I came near her, she came towards me, behind a man. The man asked me whether I want her. I was just shocked – a PROSTITUTE! A whore in Madurai, so public, in the heart of the city, shameless, daringly was asking me . . .






The surprise in me kept multiplying itself as I hastened the pace of my walk. I took my bike, without turning back to see the woman. I was utterly frightened, I should confine. As I drove my bike, making sure I have rolled up a long distance, I ruminated about what has happened with me. I smiled, a smile of satisfaction, not that I have escaped from the clutches, but they have recognized me as a grown up man. People forsake me to consider me as an adult. I too regret considering me as a grown up. This incident made me, makes me think that I am A MAN!

Thursday, December 11, 2008

spitting

Hi this is my debut poem in English. I wrote this when I was pursuing my M.A. in the American College, Madurai. I still remember those days…Dr. Love taking us to Kodai International School. This poem is special for me not because it is first ever try, but this is my only work that has some social flavor in it. I hate people spitting on the roads, especially when I walk or drive. Now you must have got the reason behind the creation of this poem. The day before reading this before the audience we (my classmates and seniors) all rehearsed articulating our poems. Dr. Love said that we got to say our name and then go reading the stuff. The rehearsal went really well until I came. “I am Madhavarajan SPITTING”, is what I said and there was a thunderous laughter…
Here we go with the poem
.
.
.

SPITTING


As I walk on the streets,

I cautiously detour and

head for the unused platform.

When I stand at the bus stop,


I jump here and there,

for they shoot towards my legs.

When I see the foamy,

gelatinous splashed out,

My salivary glands explode.

Should I spit on the road

Or on the two-legged beasts?


by,


madhav


Saturday, September 20, 2008

earring - cryings!


A thin streak of gold,
dropping down her ears - holding a shinning bead,
like my tear treading down my cheeks!

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Wriggled

I have perceived, always perceived, an old saying that diktats a verity that if you do evil to someone in the morning, it vaults back to you the very same evening. For better understanding, I allude to Newton, who says, “for each and every action there is an equal and opposite reaction”. It is true I would say for I experienced it. I did (often do) vice and got it back to me the very same day. Do not think that I am philosophic in tone. I am plain, I sense. Read the following anecdote and you will know what I am trying to say.

That morning, a humdrum morning, I went to my class and some how I started talking about disturbances I face inside the bus in which I travel. I was talking about men/women who sleep and become a pest to the co-passenger(s). I talked about its fun part and about the furious parts. My students enjoyed it. Then I said about men who sit at the back of women and about their uneasiness when the shawl (dhupatta, we localize it) of the girl comes to the back seat accidentally with the help of the wind. My students had a roaring laughter when I expressed my thoughts. I never, myself, have experienced facing a shawl, so I was cracking many jokes.

Evening came and I started back to my home in the same college bus. The bus sped in the National Highway and as it increased its pace, my heartbeat increased its lubs and tubs, for a shawl came running towards me from the front seat. At first, the shawl touched my knees and my bag, which I always rest in my lap. I did not mind it. Later, because of heavier wind, the shawl touched my hands and slowly crept to my shoulder. I felt like the game that I play with kids, my two fingers (imagined as the legs of crabs) climbing carefully over the kid’s little arm to tickle it.

The shawl did not tickle me nor did I laugh but I was shunning at the non-living thing that was well animated the hands of the wind. Then it touched my face. Could it be called slapping? No, it could not be called so for it gave a pain; it made me wriggle but not literally and physically. Now, I thought, that shawl be renamed as shovel. Shovel usually gets coal and throws it into a burning furnace but this one takes my face and throws me into a different world – a world of shyness, a world of speechlessness, a world of cowardice, a thoughtless, numb world.

In a spur of a moment, a hand came pulling the shawl away from me. It was the girl’s – the owner of the shawl. The girl chuckled for she was my student who attended my class in the morning, wherein I talked about the pathetic situation of persons, who face the furious blows of a shawl.

Saturday, April 5, 2008

Love drama (trauma)


Beginning:


She spoke,

I smiled.

Middle:

She spoke,

I spoke.

End:

She spoke,

I spoke,

But not with each other

Madhav

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

THE SILVER IDOL - an one act play

The play The Silver Idol by James R. Waugh is about a silver idol that Jack brings from India. The play depicts the Westerner’s view of Eastern countries.

The play takes place in the drawing hall of Mr. & Mrs. Pryde’s home. As the play opens, one could see Mr. & Mrs. Pryde’s family busying themselves to receive Jack. Betty, who is engaged to Jack, is preparing herself to meet Jack. Harold, the son of Mr. & Mrs. Pryde, could not believe that Jack is back. Harold, the youngest of all is much interested in hearing strange stories from Jack who has been to a strange country like India. Jack comes to their home and all the family members are eager to learn about adventurous experience that Jack has had this time in India. Jack though feels reluctant at first, starts narrating an event that he faced in India.

Jack met an old man in India, who was being robbed by three rogues. Jack fights with them and saves the life and the valuables of the old man. The old man presented him a silver idol, which according to the old man was of Tibetan origin having magical power. The old man said that the silver idol would grant three wishes to the person who has it. He warned Jack by quoting two stories about the silver idol, which granted the wishes of its owners, but the ends were very different and tragic.

The old man said that the silver idol’s first owner was a rich man. As he had enough money, he wished for peace in his life. The next day everyone saw the rich man dead and without any worries. The second story the Indian old man said to Jack was about the strangeness of the silver idol was that of a man who had lost his wife when she was very young. The man loved his wife very much and he was passionate about her even after her death. When he got the silver idol, he wished his wife would come alive. Days passed but nothing really happened. He once went to his town and as a kind of remembrance; he went down the lane where he had a store once. To his surprise, he saw a shop that sold the same articles that he sold and the person who was selling things was exactly his wife. However, the pathetic situation was that the woman was of the same age as she had died and the man was too old and therefore she did not accept him as her husband. The man told this truth to all people in the town but nobody helped him. People considered him a lunatic and they put him in jail.

On hearing all these terrible, unbelievable and strange events, the Pryde family gets much impressed. Jack and Betty goes to the theatre. Jack absent-mindedly leaves the idol in the table and leaves for theatre with Betty. On his departure Mrs. Pryde and Harold plans to use the silver idol. Mr. Pryde warns Mrs. Pryde and Harold about not to use it. However, they both wish for a Television. As soon as they wish for a TV set, there is a knock at the door and a Visitor comes and informs the family about their winning a TV set in the competition, for which Mr. Pryde sent a coupon a month ago.

This sudden arrival of the TV set surprises Mr. and Mrs. Pryde but not Harold. Harold says that it happened very naturally and not because of the power of the idol. Saying so he asks his mother to try for another wish and it is to foretell the matches that would be a draw in the forth-coming football cup. Before this wish comes true, Jack and Betty returns home and they come to know about what is happening. Their second wish also comes true, but Harold says that he is not satisfied. He says it has happened in a natural way.

Then the whole of the family, including Jack, starts discussing it and Betty says Harold to switch on the radio for some program. As they are talking, Mrs. Pryde says that she wishes to have a lot of wealth with the silver idol in her hand and that happens to be her third wish. The answer for this wish comes through the radio that gives the summary of the program. The radio voice asks all human beings to be content with what they have, and to be happy with the existing things and not to wish for more on seeing their neighbours and friends.

Listening to the radio talk Mr. Pryde and Jack feel safe and they ask Mrs. Pryde and Harold to follow it throughout their life. Jack by the end of the play on seeing Mrs. Pryde and Harold dissatisfied asks them to turn the silver idol and read what is written on it. To everyone’s surprise below the silver idol are the words “Made in Birmingham”. Jack later says that he has played a trick on them just because Harold asked for a good yarn. The play ends in a good note that we should not be jealous of others and imitate them but to be content with what we have.