Poems by Madhu Nambudiri


a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

Among the unbelieving amoebae,
There was one mad and gutsy,
Who believed in his potential to evolve
To multicelled mysterious creatures.
Among the doubting gilled fish,
There was one mad and gutsy,
Who believed his potential to evolve to,
To lung breathing landed creatures.
Among the reptiles, and the frogs,
Among the mammals, and the birds,
There were mad and gutsy ones,
Who believed in their higher potentials.

Among the skeptical human kind,
There have been mad and gutsy ones,
Who believed in the potential to evolve
To loftier plains in consciousness
Why does our self-important ego
Stop us from realizing that man is
Just another link in that process
Of unravelling of higher potentials.
Doesn’t that Buddha among monkeys
Understand more than brilliant me?
He grasps the humbling truth, that
Monkey is not His ultimate creation.

God’s Presence…

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

In the consecrated area of the house,
To ward off the spirits of bad fortune,
To appease the spirits of good fortune,
The priest sat chanting mantras esoteric,
Making mudras codified to prod the gods.
He knew the daskshina pocket was deep,
And so had elaborate mantras to chant,
Enough reason to sell Him even harder.
The crowd had an eye at their watches,
The ‘sincere’ priest is no hurry to stop,
Fervently hope I am in time for the 9:27,
My boss does scare the hell out of me.

Oblivious to the world around them,
Chattered the two clandestine lovers,
Glad at the opportunity to be around,
Ecstatic at the chance to be unrestrained.
The parents giving disapproving looks,
Pulled them apart to stem the chatter.

Then I spied God as the messenger boy,
Carrying silent love messages to and fro.
The pretense I see here is too stifling,
They believe they know better then Me,
They always are giving Me directions
As to how to love them, when to love,
And what quantity of love they require,
As if I am their favourite genie-at-call.
The love they ask for is adorned with
Infinite hunger for money and power.
They, who never felt the pristine love,
Like these blessed lucky ones here.

God’s Presence

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

In the silent hall of the ashram,
There sat the monks meditating,
Their postures perfectly lotussed,
Expressions of immobile serenity.
The visitors made overly alert
Of the necessity of silence, were
Afraid to breathe unconsciously,
Except for the visitor’s little lad.

He ran and ran, round and round,
His feet pattering in the hallway,
The monks effecting disturbance,
In unison said a loud ‘shhhhh’.
The kid shaken, all in a panic
Ran into the garden and started
To run and run, round and round
Lost himself to the nature there.

I spied God playing with the kid.
Surprised he chose the noisy kid
To the deep mediation of the monks.
The monks who get disturbed by
A mere child, isn’t worth noticing
It is so Self – vitalizing to play with
This little one, who has no pretenses
To be anyone else but a little child.


a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

The rainbow with a thousand colours,
Brought forth by the aspirations,
Of a thousand mom and dads,
Their kids should take all hues,
Of this rich, powerful rainbow,
They know he will be happy,
If he can be the rainbow.

The moment the kid could touch,
The powerful force of his life,
The creative sense of his soul,
The parents shoved down the rainbow,
To kill all his life force,
To kill all his creative sense.

I want you to be an engineer,
Because I could never become one,
I shall live MY dream through you.
I want you to be a doctor,
Because I’m a successful one,
I want you to inherit MY reputation.

One kid wanted to be an artist,
But could also decipher Laplace,
The system found a “successful” CEO,
By default became the ‘best around’,
He knew he wanted something else,
But forgot that paintings were his life.

The parents looked at their kid,
And proudly boasted to the world,
He makes weekly trips to Tokyo,
You know how important he is,
But never felt the unconditional love,
To peek into his bleeding heart.

One kid wanted to be poet,
And could never find the value of ‘x’,
The system uncaringly threw him out,
By default became the ‘inferior class’,
He rued becoming an ‘engineer’,
But forgot now the grace of words.

The parents looked at their kid,
And wrung their hands in anguish,
He can hardly make his ends meet,
You know he broke our dream,
But never felt the unconditional love,
To peek into his bleeding heart.

I look at the kids in front of me,
Brimming with hope and enthusiasm,
Oh what pity, they are made to feel,
That their only purpose in this life,
Is to make their parents proud,
That they follow the beaten path.

Oh, the unrelenting force of the rainbow,
The pressure of the false aspirations,
I see the anguish in their eyes,
They are made to believe, that
Life is worth living only,
If that rainbow is within their grasp.

Don’t follow the rainbow, my kids,
It isn’t worth the tears and blood,
The rainbow is but an illusion,
It runs faster than your sprints,
The moment you feel it in your grasp,
That moment it seems farthest away.

Look into your hearts, my kids,
Look for your rainbow there,
Nay, it is but a futile search.
Just allow your heart a little space
For your rainbow to enter you,
Then tell your parents to let you be.


a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

Fill! Fill! Fill! Fill the mind
With the information of the goings on,
Why, where what, who, when, and
How the world is going on?

Why did Sam go after Saddam?
Where did Laloo stash his millions?
What is the currency of Mongolia?
Who wrote ‘The Knowledge Ocean’?

When did Askoka kick the bucket?
How did the UTI fiasco happen?
So much information in this world,
To be devoured and stashed in the mind.

I saw and devoured, and saw more,
I devoured more and could see no end.
Back to front and inside out, I knew
Shares, music, history, and trivia.

But the other guy knew about the stars.
When the talk turned to Astronomy,
I felt small, and I devoured more
To cover up my insecure feeling.

To become secure, I proclaimed aloud
The information I possess is important.
If you want to climb the corporate ladder,
And want to be successful, Fill!, Fill! Fill!

One day into my dreams, came the Almighty
Asked me the meaning of ‘concatenation’
Phut came my answer ‘a chain of!’
And God smiled, and said ‘thanks’.

My ego was taking off, that I knew
What God knew not, but then I landed,
Hey, isn’t HE supposed to be the All-knowing?
Isn’t HE supposed to know everything?

I picked up my Reliance, and dialed HIM,
Why do you ask me, O Gracious One?
Aren’t YOU supposed to be the All-knowing?
Aren’t YOU supposed to know everything?

I had the choice of the click of the mouse,
And asking you, my dear encyclopedia,
Google searching takes too much time.
Why log on when you are handy?

You are user friendly, my dear friend,
You come up with answers real fast.
You have an excellent search engine,
Despite heaps of unnecessary information.

If the so important information, I possess
Is so insignificant and useless, I need
To know the essence of true knowledge
‘So, what do YOU fill YOUR mind with?’

Oh, I keep my mind empty of everything,
So that I cease to ruminate and think,
So that I can be the birds when they sing,
So that I can be the sunshine on the dewdrops.

So that I can be the smell of the flowers,
So that I can be the whisper of the brook,
So that I can relax and just do nothing,
And I can laugh at the stupidity of.

The Beautiful Present

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

Oh, that elusive beautiful future,
How I wish it would happen,
How I wish I could make it happen.
My plans are so well laid out,
My supreme understanding has
Built the perfect plan, and my
Vanity tells me that there is
No variable left unconsidered.

I plan, I implement, I run hard
To make sure that my future happens.
I monitor, I follow up, I push
To make sure nothing goes wrong.
I will do these things for some more time
And stop once I attain the future
Oh I’m so sick of my present
If only my future comes fast.

I see my plans are awry
My vision keeps changing
And I find my supreme understanding
Has so many shortcomings
And every time I reach my future
I see another elusive beautiful future
Which I wish it would happen
Which I wish I could make it happen.

My son comes up to me one day,
And gives me his cherubic smile.
Surely he smiles at me everyday,
I live in the future and notice it not.
I look around and find the reality
Of my beautiful tangible present.
I realize the only way to live
Is to be alive to the present

I need no plans, need no monitoring,
Need no supreme understanding,
Need no follow-up, need not push
To live in the present.
I need to just be open and sensitive
To smell the fragrance of the flowers
To feel the prying wind in my hair,
To notice my son’s angelic smile.

I need no variables, need no running,
To live in the present.
I need to just be able to sense,
The joy of the staying put
The joy of watching the world go by,
The joy of my present relationships
The joy of my freedom from the
Beautiful vision of my elusive future.


a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

I seek not the kingdom of Heaven,
I seek not the exaltation of the spirit,
I seek not the torment of the flesh,
I seek the sweet smell of life,
So mother, let me be, let me be, let me be

I seek not to decipher the holy scriptures,
I seek not to ponder on the ultimate truth,
I seek not to listen to the primordial sound,
I seek the ordinary pleasures on earth,
So mother, let me be, let me be, let me be

I seek not to be the virtuous,
I seek not to be the valiant,
I seek not to be the perfect,
I seek the security of my woman’s breast,
So mother, let me be, let me be, let me be

Let the saint seek the One,
Let the virtuous seek to abide,
Let the powerful seek the whip,
Let me hold ‘my love’ to me,
Oh mother, let me be, let me be, let me be

I shall seek her that imperfect one,
I shall seek her thro’ endless lives,
I shall seek my honest heart,
I shall seek the curses of those close,
So mother, let me be, let me be, let me be

Om Namoh Pokemonaya Namah

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

I listened open mouthed at my grandma,
As she weaved those fantastic stories
Of the exploits of the many Gods who
Adorned the leaves of the grand epics.
The whirr as Krishna threw his Sudarshana,
The twang of Arjuna’s feared Gandiva,
How Shiva threw fire from his eye, and
The mountain lifting strength of Hanuman.

Now Ash throws his Pokemon ball,
And Pikachhoo hurls his thunder shock,
Harry Porter flies on aerodynamic brooms,
And Popeye’s strength knows no bounds.
The Gods of yesteryears are outdated,
Their exploits puny to these modern Gods.
My kid would be happier far, to chant
Om Namoh Pokemonaya Namah.

My Son, Myself

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

The father worked, worked so hard,
That his son may know no hardships,
Worked so hard, so that his son
One day would make him proud.

The mother, the home was her world,
Taught the son the nuances of life,
Taught him the rights and the wrongs,
To make, one day, her ideal man.

The retired father, looking for his son,
Saw him working hard, working hard,
So that his son may know no hardships
One day would make him proud.

The beseeching father said, “My son,
I have time for you, I want to talk”,
“No time, my dad, I’m working hard,
So that my son knows no hardships.”

Mom saw every stage of his growth,
Was proud he knew right from wrong,
Until son became a man, until he met
His friends, teachers, and his woman.

The mother saw the ideal man no more,
He no longer knew right from wrong,
I taught him well, only too well,
Now my wrongs are his rights.

It was bad, her son has gone astray,
It was bad, his son knew not his duty,
Towards his parents, his pitying eyes went,
Towards his son, his loving heart flew.

God, give me the strength to accept,
My son will be a stranger, one day,
His rights will be my wrongs,
His sense of duty alien to mine.

I will teach him my rights and wrongs,
Force on him, my vision of duty,
Until the day, when I see my son,
Call me “an old fashioned fool”.

God, give me the wisdom to smile,
And the love to hold his hand,
And the patience to whisper to him,
Do the same, when your son calls you so.


a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

When in my vegetarian mood,
I frown upon the meat eaters,
Can’t they appreciate the
Importance of the animal’s life?
Times when I devour meat
I consider vegetarians inferior,
Don’t they have the guts to
Break out of the family norms.

On the mornings that I jog,
I think of the non exercisers,
Don’t they understand that
Being healthy is so important.
Those days that I laze in bed,
I spy the joggers at their toil,
Don’t they understand that,
Their body is just an illusion.

Why is that I need to find
Outlandish reasons every time
To feel superior to anyone, who
I find doing something different?
I wish there would be a day
When I would not rationalize,
And would be able to get
Tickled by my stupid reasons.

The Choice

a poem by Madhu Nambudiri

My mind lost itself, as I beheld
The majestic Himalayas with their white caps,
My heart took a leap, as I touched
The beautiful Ganga as she sped along.

I heard the whisper of eternity,
Brought to me by the cold winds,
The whisper of ‘Gangotri’ to her
Daughters- drops that bejeweled Ganga.

Whither goeth thee, my dear daughters
I cannot bear the pangs of separation,
You choose to melt into foolish Ganga
I implore thee to refreeze into my arms.

We hear stories about the great Ocean,
Where life is all eternal bliss,
So grant us leave, dearest Mother
To follow visionary Ganga to the Ocean.

Daughters, the path is so uncertain,
You are bound to loose yourself,
In the bottles for the dying,
Or in the toilets of the pilgrims.

Stuck to the bodies of the bathers,
Or mixed with other dirty rivers,
Or evaporated by the hot sun,
And thrown upon lands unknown.

Daughters, my dearest, risk not
Your safety for a pipe dream
For I’ve also only heard a lot,
But, never seen the great Ocean.

Ganga beamed at the daughters,
I can show you the path to the Ocean,
But, between the safety of your chains, and
The insecurity of your freedom, CHOOSE.