Introducing another poet..


This is by my dearest Aashi.. Tinkle overdose surely 😉

My wonderful dream..

When I was sleeping late at night
I heard someone call my name
I opened my eyes and saw
Suppandi, sitting on his watch,
Saying” iam on time!”

I looked around, to find
Raghu looking very sad
And Tantri creating a bomb!
Doobdoob and Chamataka
How happy for once, together!

Kaliya, Keechu and Meechu
Were not far behind!
Shambu, standing with his gun
And Shanti, still behind him
Pyarelal and Lajawanthini
Tapping on my head, lightly
Kapish standing with Pinto
And smiling with Singal and Peelu

When I opened my eyes for real
They all whispered goodbye!!!
What a wonderful dream, it was
Will I ever meet them all again???

Choosing Books


Scholastic conducts book fair in Vyas’s school every year. The young man is a regular customer at this fair, and brings home the brochure and waits anxiously to tell me about the fair. That the same care or caution is not exercised for the circulars sent, project announcements made, or contests scheduled is a different matter altogether.

Whenever this book fair is held, I tell him a budget and let him choose the books within that limit. A good half hour is spent selecting the books. I feel too tempted to increase the budget when I see him total-up the cost of the books and crease his brows and sigh when it overshoots the amount. There are some books which are way too expensive and he has the option to borrow from the library close to our house. He readily excludes such books from the list and scans for other favorite titles. His list invariably has some fancy stuff like a 3-D picture story book with the 3-D glass, or one of those cartoon network heroes like Ben 10 or such, or new stories. He marks the books he wants to buy on the catalog and hands it over to his class teacher along with the required cash.

Disgusting Poems
Image: Courtesy Amazon

Coming to this year’s book fair, he came back with the catalog and we scanned all the titles and the cost. His choice of books this time took me by surprise. The titles read: ‘Disgusting Poems’, and ‘Knock Knock Jokes’!! I thought it was gauche to list ‘disgusting’ titles as part of kids literature and I was in two minds. But then, this was the first time my son picked a collection of poems and jokes and I was perplexed. Was not sure how ‘disgusting’ or funny the books would be. Curiosity got the better of me, and I agreed. I decided that in case it turns out to be really disgusting, I’ll put away the book somewhere and tell him it vaporized!

He got the books last week and few questions in the last few days have convinced me that he has read/learnt some ‘stuff’ from the books (more on that in another post!) Got a chance to read a few poems two days back, and well, it had the Mr.Bean effect on me; kids adore him, adults abhor him:) Children will thoroughly enjoy while the fussy adults will find it crass.

Sample the section under which the poems are grouped:

    Animal Instincts

 

    Knickers and Pants

 

    Bellies, Bottoms and Body Bits

 

    Bad Habits

 

    Spots, Sick and Toilet Troubles

 

    Rude Food and Rotten Recipes

 

    Earwax, Bogeys and Belly-Button Fluff

 

    Wind Section

 

    Truly Disgusting

So, you see where it is going? No? Will post a few sample poems shortly!!

Girl, Woman, Mother


I sent up a silent thanks to my parents for letting their two daugthers bloom into mothers and live to see the world ‘celebrate’ Women’s Day!

Something inside me turned on reading this poem by my sis!

Girl Child

    Compulsory imprisonment in the gaol called womb,
    Undeserving definitely,
    Yet no voice in uproar.

    The day of release announced,
    Creation of Tiny Mother known;
    When arrival assured, milk from creepers ooze!

    Merely a-day-old Mother,
    Her tears run in parallel streams
    Her lullaby termed ambiguous.

    And finally the day of doom postponed
    For the arrival of Unholy Monk.

    Oh Monday, How unfortunate!
    He clutches her pale tiny fingers,
    She’s dazed; Her long lashes flutter. . .

    Her pale pinkness hides behind blue
    As though poisoned sugar in purest milk.

    A loud cry let out by the mother
    In reply, the Girl Child lets out her breath. . .

    Mankind! Don’t nip her as a bud
    Or, you have murdered a mother.

    -by Nithya Chander

The rag-picker


A narrow road from my office leads to the main road. It has a few shops and houses and there isn’t much traffic. As I was walking out of the comfort of my office, I saw a small shabbily dressed child running around with a stick in one hand and a big plastic bag on the other. He must have been around 3 or 4 years old. I smiled at him but he blushed shyly and turned away. A few yards away from him were two old people – rag-picking. They seemed to be the little boy’s grandparents or care-takers!

The boy suddenly yelled out to the old woman saying “yen amma odi pochi” (translates to : my mother ran away), and giggled! The rejoinder from the old women was worse. She said, “neeyum odi po. andha odugali dhaane unnayum pettha” (which loosely translates to – you run away too! after all you were born to that ******)!” My jaws dropped. A tiny little kid announcing the news of his mother’s elopement like some movie to be telecast on TV and a 50+ year old women venting her frustration at a 3 yr old child! The gap between our world and that of this trio’s is so wide that I doubt if it will ever be bridged! I felt the divide even more as I stepped into my home to cuddle my little ones, unwilling to let them out of the tight embrace….

And this incident reminded me of what my sister wrote a few years back on seeing another tiny rag-picker:

    Dear rag picker

What are you made of
Dear little one..?

I saw you by the lane
squatting near the pile of waste

Busily fishing for iron pieces
With a long cane, enough to touch the earth,underneath.

It touches me deeply, I am wounded to witness,
The true color of life, yet, I know its real!

The bright ray of hope in your eyes
As they sparkle with each iron particle found,

The entire pile you sell for a meagre penny
And then feed your half-dead family?

When will this end? Will this?
Can I carry you away, far away from this bitterness..

Are you soldered like iron,to be this,
Tell me, what are you made of, little one?

-by Nithya Chander

the journey


This is just the beginning,
Still a long long way to go,
In this beautiful journey called life
Whose start and end we do not know.

Oh but! there has been
Several twists and turns
Some ways too narrow,
Few too wide and sudden!

Just when you thought aloud
Yaay! I’ve almost reached there!
You discover the road has thrown a teaser,
Ahead is deeper curve to negotiate!

You still go on for by now
You have met most of them:
Love, mirth, pain, sorrow,
Birth, death, today and tomorrow.

And look forward for more to follow
For somewhere on your way
You unearthed Friendship,
The kohinoor of treasures.

With friends for company
You can cruise a desert or river
Who cares where you are going!
As long as you enjoy the journey
Which I wish goes on forever.

Wish you and your dear ones a very happy journey through 2010 and all the years to come! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Friend


Festivals usher-in a lot of cheer and good will and the world around you looks all so positive, progressive, and more beautiful. And reminds us all of a good friend lurking inside us whose existence we often forget..

Hear your friend speak:

I come.

When the tides rise high
Drawing that mighty line,

When the chill wind blows
Piercing your cheeks,

When the Sun is high
Sweating your energy,

When there are loud thunders
Deafening your ears,

When there is a mighty pour
Drenching your soul,

When the night gets darker
Darkening your ‘dare’,

When the daylight is too bright
Burning your eyes,

When dark clouds hover above
Glooming your mind,

When it snows madly
Coloring your face white,

When the two of you quarrel
Tearing each other’s love

When ridden with sickness
Spelling the doom,

When ‘people’ leave you
Deserting forever,

When borrowers quit
Leaving you in debt

When the world breaks loose,
Making you helpless,

I come!
I’m your Friend!
I’m HOPE!

Wish you all a happy, safe and colorful Diwali!

Little Flowers


Little flowers,
Crushed by heat,
Not of the glowing Sun,
But the seething fumes
Of sub-human wrath
That tears the soul

To prove the might!
Devouring peace of hills
And of vales
and still claim its right


Oozing from a thousand eyes
Tears tainted red
smearing the earth alike
engulfed in burning clouds
burying so many
killing the dreams
severing the petals,
stealing the home,
of the Little flowers


Eternity it seems!
When you can sow another seed
in the tarnished land
To see it grow
With eyes full of hope
To lift the gloom
Restore Peace
And
See the Little Flowers bloom

The Magic


What is it that he has
that i do not have,

What is it that I have
that you do not have

What is possible by him
Is possible by me.

And what is possible by me
Is possible by you.

What really matters is
What you and I want!

To him, a pinnacle is home
For you, home is the pinnacle

To him, being successful
is the pinnacle tip
For you, being happy is.

Success and Happiness!
Are they one and the same?

If different, how is it?
If same, why is it?

All Successes are not happy,
Happy ones seldom see success!

Magic lies with the other genre
That is both!
Successful and Happy!

Get in there
And see what it is.

A perfect blend
of both these ‘things’.

The feeling is great!
So Wonderful that
it makes me sing!