Tuesday, April 28, 2009


I trudge along a desert of emotions

Try to keep pace with the wind pushing me

Halt please, I can't, I say in a pleading voice

But the gushing wind can't hear me in the whooshing noise


The desert suddenly transforms into a whirlpool

I am panting for breath, squeezed into the tiny space

Not a second to react, not a moment to think

I feel weighed down by the boulder of a heavy heart, the wish to sink


Then I hear a warm voice thundering me to gather my wits

I recognize the sounds from a really long time ago

A lady who soothed me when I threw tantrums and kicked

In the confines of a cocoon, in her cozy womb


She gave me my senses and taught me to use them sensibly

Sensitivity and sensibility is what I inherited from her

I fail her every now and then, but she eggs me on

I am with you till the end, she says, and pushes me to take the plunge


Without her, I am lost

Without her, I am a stranger to myself

She brought me to the world

And now she's introducing me to myself.

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Vellai Pookkal

On my dad's insistence, I began my first attempts at reading newspapers when I was about 9 yrs. To his credit and fanaticism about Indian politics, I began reading the front page avidly to be able to impress him with my knowledge of current affairs. I cannot pinpoint when exactly I moved from current affairs to cricket to page 3 affairs in the course of these years (something Appa would chide me for), but the truth is I am hooked.

I don't have access to any newspapers here in Balto; neither can I afford subscriptions to NYT or the Washington Post right now. Google News has been my best friend for a while. It's got the most relevant feeds and I keep tabs on India as well as current affairs in the U.S.

What is appalling and saddening to me, everyday I read about war. Everyday. The news isn't glorifying wars, but that is the truth. Though I might just be an insignificant speck of life in this whole world, the thought that millions of people are dying of bullets, infections and starvation as a retribution of human fallacies and greed, pains me each time I see it. Is this really the beginning of the end of times? I wonder if I will stay alive to see the proverbial 'Kalki' come to our rescue.

The pathetic situation in Sri Lanka brings tears to my eyes. Innocent people being held ransom - each second must be a torture for them. For some reason, I remembered this song from the movie Kannathil Muthamittal that I believe is more a prayer for peace. Thanks to Google, I found the translation... and here it is... a desperate heartfelt prayer pleading for peace.

veLLai pookkaL
Song: Vellai Pookkal
Movie: Kannathil Muthamittal
Singer: A.R.Rahman
Lyrics: Vairamuthu
MD: A.R.Rahman

Vellai pookkal ulagam engum malargavey!
Vidiyum bhoomi amaithikkaga vidigavey!
Manmael manjal velichcham vizhugavey!
Malarey soambal muriththu ezhugavey!
Kuzhandhai vizhikkattumae, thaayin kadhakadhappil
Ulagam vidiyattumey, Pillayin siru mudhal sirippil...

Kaatrin paerisayum,
Mazhai paadum paadalgalum,
Oru mounam, poal inbam, tharumo?

Kodi keerthanamum
Kavi koartha vaarthaigalum,
Thuli kanneer, poal artham, tharumo?

Charanam - 2
Engu siru kuzhandhai,
Than kaigal neettidumo,
Angu thoandraayo, vellai, nilavey!

Engu manidha inam,
Poar oindhu saaindhidumo,
Angu koovaayo, vellai, kuyile!

Vellai Pookal (Translation)
Let white(peace) flowers bloom all over the world,
Let peace heal the unrest world(not the best translation),
let the sun’s rays fall on this soil,
Let the flowers lose their laziness and bloom.

Let the child open its eyes
in the mother’s lullaby
let the world wake up to
children’s laughter

In the breeze’s melody,
In the music created by raindrops,
Is there anything that give utmost joy than silence?
Would a crore melodies and words penned by poets be as meaningful
as a drop of a tear shed?

Let the moon rise in the place where the child reaches out its hands
Let the white bird sing in the place where there is no war

Thursday, April 23, 2009


I dreamed a dream of flying high
Soaring above the misty clouds
I dreamed a dream of flying across valleys and hills
Of diving through depths and emerging at long bounds

I wished for sight that would take in at lengths
The ants scurrying below the people in the market
Eagle eyed vision is what you'd call it
Unfettered freedom, would it beget?

I like the feeling of being held up
The kite runner's anchor drawing the string
Letting the kite fly without fear of fall
Fly with confidence and innate joy of all

I fear for the kite when the anchor fails
Cos the kite then loses its way
Sight becomes oversight, enthusiasm is foolishness
Without a direction, the kite falls in its sway

What is a kite without it's anchor
The hand that holds its string, rules its world
Unfettered freedom it doesn't truly enjoy
In its anchor, it places its whole life

Yet, I prefer such curtailed freedom
To be able to relate to another, is what I crave
What life would it be at the end of it all
If there isn't anyone to shed a tear at my grave

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

For Anita and Meera

You call to tell me that I make your day
I am stunned as that was just what I was about to say
That you are the object of my affection
And a driving force behind my sanity and passion

I miss the craziness of our times together
Memories flood me of sheer madness and gregarious laughter
I am not alone, never in solitude
Cos I can feel your presence in my courage and attitude

I cannot thank you enough for your gift
Of generosity and love without an iota of thrift
Because of you, I stand with a smile today
In the same place where I shed a tear everyday

I stand strong with my head firmly on my shoulders
I do not feel scared or abandoned anymore
Your words have given me the confidence that hence forth
I can be replace my dad as my strength and force

You might be with me only as an abstract construct
But the validity of your influence on me is absolutely perfect
Gratitude overwhelms me and makes me say this
I really hope I never let you down and give you a miss...