A Response

Walk alone in the dead of the night, 

But soldier know you are not alone in this fight,

Fury let out, tears let spill, 

Know that love forgives any ill.

The Wasteland is vast you say,

All the more reason to celebrate,

Renew, Replenish, recreate at will,

There is joy to be found still.

- Written on 22 November 2015
- in response to a friend's poem

Empty Roads

The almost empty roads shimmer, 

As the sun rays turn the black to silver. 

The sound of the auto's motor, 

Breaks through the silence, the langour. 

You get off the auto bemoaning noise's sacrilege,

You walk to enjoy the silent, empty road - a rare privilege. 

The sun warms you, but more the solitude,

Warm, open spaces, building one's fortitude.

A silence that allows thoughts to be heard, 

To rethink if you are just following the herd. 

You actually just want to sit, to explore,

Appreciate your surroundings, your inner core. 

So rare this opportunity in this city,

I so appreciate the aftermath of Diwali. 

- Written on 12 November 2015. 

- Diwali was on 11 Nov this year. And I had morning lectures. A pity I had to rush so. 

Happy Diwali 2015!

Diwali - the festival of lights.
The reminder - Good prevails in all fights.
The message - eradicate ignorance.
The joy - sharing one's abundance.
The harmony - one hears in another's laughter.
The beauty - one sees free of creed, caste, religion or border.
The ability - to improve, to find, to make something better.
The celebration - unity with one's neighbour.
The reflection - of what was past, of the (hopefully) learnt lesson.
The hope - a better world we will make happen.
The new year - of bliss, of peace, of prosperity.
Deepavali - may its essence be realised for and by all humanity.

Happy Diwali 2015! 

- Written on 9 Nov 2015 by moi :) 

And this is what make my attempt at rhyme worthwhile - Thank YOU Ramesh Ramanath - Your poem is what is awesome. 

The Counterpoint - 

What's in a light, that never fades
What's in a fight, in which u never fail
What's in a world, if you know it all
What's in a joy, if its not ever one's call
What's harmony, if the note isn't bent
What's in beauty, if one not from other different
What's that able, which enchanted cain
What's celebration, where we unite only to gain
What's in a mirror, that reflects no you
What's in a hope, that's without a hue
What's is in a year, which never sees tear
What's Diwali, without dark dusk near
                        ,smog that doesn't clear
                       ,not greeting a dear
                       ,riding without fear ;-)
  ,saving some darkness yet for next year

  :-D 

- Written by Ramesh Ramnath - on 11 Nov 2015 (at least that is when it was sent to me) AWESOMENESS :) 

Net Unity (NET Harmony)

"I AM watching."

"NO. I was not dozing."

"NO. You did not hear me snoring."

"No. You cannot be channel switching." 

"Give me the remote." 

" The advertisements do not me bore." 

"The channel I switched on, is to remain on and LOUD."

"I can hear from the bathroom or kitchen when I have to move around."

"The TV is not working." 

"There must be a conspiracy against South Indians brewing."

"Why did you not to the cablewala go?"

"Tell him to get back my show."

The TV saga in my house. 

Perhaps, a version of this every family's grouse. 

In this 'wonderful scene of harmony and unity',

The only ones who adjust are kids accessing the net at speed. 

😜

- Written on 24 November 2015.

- Self- Explanatory. 

Kill. Still. Will.

Noise. Light. Burst. 

Ears. Eyes. Hurt. 

Burn. Smell. Smog. 

Crackers. Nose. Block.

Wind - Cease.

Land - Plead. 

Sky - Black

Water - Lack. 

100 cones - 1 rupee.

The TN Women's untold tragedy. 

Wet paper. Straighten. 

Apply paste. Roll. To 1000 hasten. 

Gun powder fill.

Children, dare not spill. 

Lungs, themselves, slowly kill. 

But, we want crackers still.

- 23 October 2014
- Stuck in traffic for almost 02 hours. Watching crackers light up the sky. A sky so dark, I can't see the stars, a haze so thick, my eyes weep, an air so dense, I can't breathe, a celebration I can only lament as I recall statistics of exploitation and pollution.

Shun Crackers. Will you India? Will you make me proud? 

Bliss

Nothing to do.

Nothing to prove.

Comforting silences, 

Interspersed with conversation slices:

A platter of topics ranging far and wide

From dreams to Syria to birds to weight and height. 

No company better I know to keep.

No one I can more share thoughts and feelings deep.

I have friends close and family too, 

He fulfills both roles and so ably too. 

Just spending a few hours brings solace. 

The world is forgotten no matter the place. 

I wish time would forget its pace, 

When we meet, it would not so race. 

Much mirth, self-deprecatory jokes, 

Comments galore, each the other pokes, 

With understanding and wit

Every word, action is lit. 

Maybe I don't contribute as much,

But I treasure each word, action, touch,

This camaderie, this bond, 

May it better in years beyond. 

A perfect day, another one, 

To give me strength when I am undone. 

A better gift nowhere to be found, 

Hope more such days always abound. 

- 6 October 2015

- Thank you Easwar. 

 

Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary

I have met you more through 

Family folklore, stories galore,

Most beautiful, most talented

Adored, gracious, cherished.

Even at age 10, could cook, make rangoli, 

Better, way better, than her, said your youngest Chithi.

Could sing, if you wished, professionally, 

Said Venkitachalam Athimber almost despairingly.

Would be obedient and affectionate and study so well,

Said all in the family with pride swell.

I brushed them aside as tall tales,

As creative as you were to be claimed. :)

And then came the twist in the tale,

And even earlier praise for you seemed to pale.

I came to admire you, yearn to interact, 

It all began with a letter, in fact.

I had heard hushed whispers and seen Appa cry,

But I did not know why. 

Then I saw your letter grand,

Coming home from school, I collected the letter blue, THE INLAND.

You had written of appreciating their love, of understanding their angst,

But your decision you would not even second glance. 

Your immediate family had mostly accepted, 

That was all you wanted and had expected. 

Time would tell that you had found a partner able,

That love would guide better than religion's cable

I heard then the story of your love marriage,

I admired you then as a heroine brave. 

I prayed that you prove the naysayers wrong and yourselves right,

And you did! Much to my delight. :)

I heard more folklore as years went by, 

Of your maturity, of in-laws understanding and of a partner, your superlative stand-by. 

What a transformation from the reviled to revelled, 

What determination, what passion, what greatness to forgive and forget.

You - yes, wonderful, so true. 

But Jijaji is equally to be commended too, 

Stood by you, grew with you,

Adapted, changed, as did you.

A relationship cannot be all give, no take,

A strong one requires both to reciprocate,

And you both have done so ably, so brilliantly,

An example of true love set so seemingly easily.

25 years strong a bond, 

May it last for many more years long,

May your happiness, your togetherness, grow leaps and bounds,

May each year bring you even more joy unfound.

-

Happy 25th Wedding Anniversary K and Jijaji!

Unwittingly perhaps, but you became a heroine in my eyes when I was in 6th Std, and Jijaji, by default, the hero :)

Your letter was a revelation of how to be graceful when standing firm, how to politely convey a refusal, how to be sensitive and sensible. I have not learned these lessons yet, but hope to some day.

You met your match and I am so glad this is a Happily Ever After story :)

May you both ever together stay happy.

I am so sorry to have missed the celebrations, but I hope there will be many more such occasions when I can participate in the jubilations.

- Written on 05 Oct 2015

- Self-Explanatory. 

So jaa, so jaa Munni rani..

Sleep," said Ammi. "No. Just 10 minutes more," pleaded Rashida. "NOW." Ammi was very strict. "Oh! Ok. Why did God make night time? Why must we sleep at night?" grumbled Rashida. Ammi smiled. "Do you really want to know?" "Yes, But tell it to me as a story please. A bed time story type," urged Rashida. "Well then," said Ammi, "lie down and I will tell you. Once upon a time there was a small girl. She worked very very hard. She studied a lot. She helped her mother. She played a lot. She helped her friends. She did so many things in a single day. After a while she started becoming sick. She would get fever every week. Her head would ache every day. Her eyes would water a lot. She could not see clearly. She could not do much then. Her parents were worried. Her firends were worried. You see, they all loved her a lot. So they took her to the doctor. The doctor was surprised. He asked her parents if she ate well. They said she ate very well. She would eat all the healthy food, not just snacks. Then he asked them, if she played enough. They said she played a lot. Her parents told the doctor how many things she did in a day. The doctor was confused. 'But when does she rest?' he asked. The parents said, "Well she sleeps for very few hours. She says she does not feel sleepy." "No. No. No. This will not do," said the doctor. "One must sleep for at least eight hours a day. Sleep makes our muscles strong as we rest. Sleep makes our memory better, so we are able to study more. Sleep helps our body stay healthy, our eyes see better, and our brain think faster. Even if you are not sleepy, you must lie down. Soon your body will learn to sleep. And one should sleep at night because just as the body feels hungry at lunch time, the body needs to sleep at night time." "Oh! We did not know that!" said the parents. "'Hmm, Ok, I will tell our government to teach parents to make their children sleep at night," said the doctor. "Really Ammi? Will I also become sick if I do not sleep?" asked Rashida. "'Yes. After some time. If you do not sleep. But you will sleep, right?" smiled Ammi. "'Yes. Yes. Every night," promised Rashida. (409 words)

- Written on 2 October 2015
- Well I wanted to write more, but restrained myself. Need to cut this short too, if it for children.

Immersion

Visarjan, let go says Ganesh, 

Limited not to an idol, says son of Mahesh. 

Unconditional love involves the mind and soul,

Obsession with matter is like a missed goal.

Yet we persist in building more idols, more temples,

In these we seek solace, as forget vedic principles,  

In your heart exists God, there is no need for symbol,

Taught Valmiki and Hanuman, but we build edifices still. 

We worship form not spirit, 

We aspire for wealth not merit, 

We grab if we don't receive, 

We pretend to give, but a bargain we conceive. 

Let go your cherished possessions, 

But we of even these display grand processions.

Let go, immerse, let go petty desires, 

But more show, more noise is all we aim for, we liars. 

- Written on 27 September 2015.

- Ananth Chaturdashi. More show, more glam, more noise, more pollution, and more plans for more grandeur, more waste for more years. I wonder where God is, how He figures in this mess. :(

Go go Dodo, go, no, though, go.

Purposeful purposelessness, 

Awaiting nothingness,

Mysterious, absurd, illuminating,

Mankind's existence without meaning. 

Waiting for Godot,

Go though, though go go,
Go. No. Though. Go. Though.

Dodo, go Dodo, no go go go

Dodo dodo. Godot. Go Dodo.

Godot. Godot. Go no go. Dodo.

Dodo go go. Godot. 

Gibberish? Indeed. 

But pay heed. 

In this is hidden essense of humanity, 

We await patiently for some unknown release.

Nirvana? Perhaps. Or an illusion maybe? 

We wait, we question aimlessly, we talk pointlessly, we exist unthinkingly. 

Useless? Weird? 

Ceaseless? Relentless? Absurd? 

Out of thin air we create conversations,

We argue, exuberantly, for fleeting passions. 

We know not our own contradictions,

This is Waiting for Godot's seemingly senseless sense.

- Written on 26 September 2015
- In response to a student's question on the meaning in Waiting for Godot. 

Hail Woman's Self Sufficiency

A son, a mother's aspiration,

Born of her perspiration. 

A protector, defender, 

Killed by a man: her partner. 

A wife's tears, her anguish,

Fuels a man's desperate wish,

To but find a way to amend,

His fatal blow to a child obedient. 

A search high and low

Yields again his wife's glow.

A wise elephant's head: well chosen

Life to Death, Death to Life: a cycle's completion. 

A loving father now to his wife's first born,

Giving way to a (supposed) new dawn,

A woman's creation: the first among equals,

Another matriarchal product crowns the 'Unparalleled'. 

Loved, cherished, his history dismissed,

Adored, revered, the woman's role diminished, 

Son of Shiva, indeed! Maha Ganapati!

But remember: born only to, for, by and of Parvati. 

- Written on 17 Sep 2015. 

- Ganesh Chathurthi today. Isn't it wonderful that we legitimise Ganesh, and also Yudhishtir, Bhim, Arjun, et al, but do not accept a contemporary woman's solo choices - be they children or careers or whatever?
- Isn't it even more paradoxical that we have to take bath to worship a God created entirely of a woman's sweat and grime? 

Happy Teacher's Day

Great teachers guide, they help us thrive,
Great ones make us for knowledge strive,
They ignite in us a curiosity,
That ever makes us improve our ability.

Life long lessons they impart,
That stay with us, comfort us, aid us long after we part.
No wonder more than Gods, even parents, them we revere,
Truly they are in service without a peer.

Thank you for being a great teacher and for enriching my  life.

Happy Teacher's Day to all the teachers out there. The great ones and the ones striving to be great :)

- Written on 05 September 2015.
- Self-explanatory.

Emulate Ganesha, Not Merely Decorate

Graceful, decorated, seeming lonely,
Worthless, since these are for now empty.
But soon they too will be cherished,
When Gods in them are seated and worshipped.

Ah! The madness of this society,
Revere a deity known for simplicity,
And waste in abundance, with a kind of greed,
Even as we pretend to follow His creed.

We, His 'bhakts' destroy nature,
As more and more idols we for 10 days treasure,
Then pollute precious water,
That our sins be washed away hereafter.

No idol He worshipped, 'quick-fix solution' mark His every deed,
Yet with elaborate rituals He is ferried,
Ganesh Chathurthi arrives soon,
I wonder how He allows this doom.

Do I believe in God? - sometimes I wonder.
If this mayhem Gods allow, then what their power?
Maybe we should just look within,
And to follow Ganesha's principles now begin.

Not an idol, but His theology,
Not frenzy, but His rationality,
Not grandeur, but His chasteness,
Not loud insistence, but His quiet persistence...

If we can but try to emulate,
His principles, rather than the ornate,
Perhaps it would be a true tribute,
To the One, we all salute.

- Written on 02 September 2015
- I am already tired of seeing the decorations and the set ups. Can Ganesh Chathurthi be over already, please?

Our Strengths

Dreams, surreal, technicolor. 

Fears that rob even pallor. 

Hope that better things await the next bend.

Desperation that this might well be the end. 

Each day we panic ourselves into anxiety.

Each day we learn anew our strengths - our friends - our reality.

- Written on 04 July 2015

- just

Comments on The Indian Education System

[00:18, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Ok these are mine: 

Indian Education System: 

Where students learn how NOT to be prepared for the real world. 

Where teachers are taught the new Cs by their students:  Carelessness, Cheating, and Corruption. 

Where technology is used to instil rote learning and innovation involves invoking old systems.

Where students and teachers collude to pretend learning occurs even as they collide with the real world. 

Where people carp about crap. 

Where Modern Indian History still stops with Gandhi's death and the succeeding 60+ years never occurred. 

Where Science still follows the Chatur pattern and the Ranchos have to set up alternative schools that may never be formally recognised.

[00:37, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Indian Education System: 

The new money making machine.

The wake we should be having, but do not perceive.  

Donations are used to buy seats.

Caste to reserve these. 

Influence to intimidate

But we do not ruminate. 

The ruin of education, 

Pointless aspiration, 

No sight of resolution, 

But all hail Indian education.

[00:48, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: Indian Labour System - 

In India an average worker is expected to put in 40 hours of work a week. 

A child in the Indian Education system typically spends about 35 hours in school per week. Then has tuitions amounting to an equivalent number of hours. Then has to do some extra curricular activities and maybe train for those too. And complete the Homework assigned by each teacher of the above regimes (school, tuitions, extra curricular classes). 

The counting is left to you. But I think the ILO should be looking into this exploitation, don't you?

[00:57, 31/05/2015] Anusha Ramanathan: India's Population Control Programme: 

We have one of the highest, if not the highest, suicide rate in the world for suicides in the 15-19 age group. 

Common cause family problems. Dig deeper. Cause performance pressure. Dig even deeper and find a poor education system that ill-equips students with either skill or strategy or strength to cope with life. 

Well, anyway we have too many people on this piece of land anyway! 

- Written on 31 May 2015

- A niece asked me for some jokes on the Indian Education System and the rest followed :) Blame her, do. 

Family or Travesty?

Built on her sacrifice - a family?
Or merely a pathetic travesty?
One person the lynch pin?
And this is a reason for celebration?

If on just one pillar stands an edifice
Should we not fear this foolishness?
This phenomenon is actually a calamity
This is the societal equivalent of Mount Fuji.

No, a mother, just her, can't be the bearer
Of love, togetherness, family and culture.
It is not a lesson to teach humanity
That one can and should live off a mother's bounty.

NO more sacrifice. No more martyrdom.
No more false smiles. No more tears hidden.
No more diplomacy, when she wants to break free.
No more working through pain, when she wants to sleep.

No more someone I feel sorry for. No more pity.
NO more someone I admire, but want NOT to be.
No more the worn out, tired, LOVING entity.
No more the one without her sense of PERSONAL  identity.

No more the doer, deferring to a 'higher' authority.
No more a professional compromising for the family.
No more just a woman waiting to be a wife, a mother.
No more just a girl, growing up to please the other.

NO. NO. NO. NO.
NO. NO. NO. NO.
No more. No more.
No more. No more.

- Written on 7 April 2015 

- I just could NOT stop at the earlier one. :) I don't know if I am shivering with ragr or fever, but this sort of wrote itself out too. :) 

Mother

I wish a mother taught us right

To NOT sacrifice, but fight

To help others, yes,

But not be selfless.

To keep the peace

To NOT carve herself piece by piece

Guilt she inspires in women

False expectations in her family, her son

I wish she had not.

I wish she had fought.

I wish she had not people managed

When fathers stupidly ranted and raged,

Each time she ate what was left over,

Each time she pleased the other.

Is this the legacy that she wants us to emulate

This constant need to self-deprecate?

I want to scream, NO LONGER PLEASE.

You have a right to just be.

You have a headache, for God’s sake retire

You don’t want to cook, let others light the fire,

You are NOT the clean-up crew, others are there too,

Instead of jumping high, raise the bar for the family, do.

You DO NOT, SHOULD NOT come last,

I do NOT want to be in your this dye cast.

And those who blindly take and take,

Fathers, parents, children, Grow up for Pity’s sake!

-          - Written on 6 April 2015

-          - In response to the UMPTEENTH Stupid forward on the Greatness of the All-Sacrificing Mother. She is someone I NEVER WANT TO BE and actually do not even respect as much.

-          If the stupid father ranted, she should have brought him down instead of massaging his ego and keeping quiet, if the kid wanted extra classes, why did ONLY the mother have to sacrifice to get him/her the same, why was the food she ate AFTER everyone had eaten MORE than their fill, instead of ensuring that ALL sacrificed? Are these the lessons she should teach, one pays the price that ALL may prosper? I would so rather not have that selfish prosperity built on one person’s exploitation. And this systemic victimisation  is revered, not reviled!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! 

-      

       -   You know what, my mother DID NOT COOK when she did not feel like it. She did NOT cajole us, anyone of us, when we were being unreasonable, she did not let us win just because, she did not let us eat that extra dosa when there was a limited supply, she let us make mistakes AND PAY for them, and HER I respect. I would far rather have a friend, a human, a mother in my life than some Martyr!!!!!!!!!!!

-

Ill Again

Huddled under covers

Wrapped in layers

Wracked with high fevers

And with sneezes and coughs and tears.

Losing their crispness, these freshly washed sheets

As sweat and shivers destroy the washing machine's feats.

I would like to give up, but then see

My father, aged 73, plodding to office ceaselessly

My mother, a heart patient at 63, working tirelessly

And I resolve afresh to stop this self-pity.

So the bone-jarring coughs, the breathless sighs

Can do their worst, but I will continue the fights

Yes, it is hell, but I am getting well.

Of this travesty too, a merry tale I will tell.

-          - Written on 1 April 2015

-          - Self-Explanatory

For All You Saree Lovers

6 metres of cloth, amazingly versatile, 

As it adapts to so many a diverse style. 

The Bengali version with its dupatta style drape, 

The Gujarati, Marwari and such versions versions that the pallu the star make. 

The quintessential Indian fashion statement, 

That the bais, to the farmers, to the  AI hostesses to the top rung executives use as their primary adornment,

The Sari, the Saree, 

The showcasing of  beauty, 

The manifold styles flexibility, 

The through the ages durability, 

The all body types adaptability, 

The all weather conditions suitability, 

The symbol of power and vulnerability, 

Sexy, shy, revealing, veiling, the blessing, (my tragedy) - The SAREE. 

For all you Saree lovers. 👆

- Written on 18 March 2015

- A random whatsapp chat with my cousins led me to rant against the saree and many of them love it, so this was an apology of sorts. 

- I still HATE it for me. :) 

Some days, some nights

Some days, some nights

You pause, you reflect, you emit sighs,

In memory of conversations, the 1:00am kind,

The comfort that only with friends you will find. 

Some days, some nights, 

You wonder how time slipped by

When, and also why

The conversations reduced by and bye. 

Some days, some nights,

Reality lands you in a blindside,

Then love releases a triumphant cry,

No matter what, some bonds, however stretched, will see you through life.  

Some days, some nights, 

Make you relive anew those delights, 

And a promise elicit outright:

"I will always be there (in spirit at least) by your side".

- Written on 18 March 2015

- Somehow it is in the middle of random actions that you suddenly miss someone the most. For no reason. Not that they are away, or distant. Just that they are not there right that moment by your side for a hug. Or that it is too late, too early, too inconvenient to call to say a "Hullo".

- So you whatsapp them your angst, so they can wake up to it and curse you, I guess ;) 

- Then again, it is their fault for being your 1:00am friend.