Category Archives: Incidents

Listen, Dear!

Listen dear,
when there is a smooth ride
we know not significance
of men, values and time.

Time, the greatest factor,
yet to be comprehensively comprehended-
tests every one,
ways are inscrutable!

Sunday, a holiday for many,
a holiday too for many more,
spelt disaster,
unmasking Man’s own limitations!

Tsunami, a name you give-
Nature unmistakably unleashes her fury
only to emphasize her potential!

Disasters unite us, egoists,
aggressions revive patriotism…
we combine to confront
misery, hunger, poverty.
Sweet are the uses of adversity!

Tsunami Tours

Heartless, Tsunami appears from nowhere
Nerves jitter. Tsunami raises voice.
Devastation becomes a choice.
Nonchalant pantomime
Kinetic under waters
Disaster strikes.
Face brutal facts.
Caught unaware
Tare floats no tears.
Only salty miscible
Find no rest cure.
Value lives.
Minutes Fifteen
On two thousand four
Twenty sixth of December
Catastrophic natural calamity
Alter Saga Chennai, Phuket, Sri Lanka.
Chemical interaction is worldwide sadness.

Politely Refuse Com-Petition

Lights, Camera, Action
Reward, Awards, Reactions
In addition,
Come join the function.
Nominal fee, for participation
Forever promises attraction.
However, one experience
Enough is. Refuse polite
With thanks!


When fires burn
Both young and old
Day in and out
Alive to death,
Who is to blame-
The bureaucracy or the citizens?
The answer, one really does not know!
Corruption’s the devil, most people say!
Yeah, it seems to be the culprit anyway!
How can the leaders and the bureaucrats just get away?
Is there not something called accountability?
The victims too must take their share of blame;
Should they be not aware of fire’s rage?
What measures do they have if fires break?
Are escape routes enough to move out, if need be?
And every time a fire left charred bones
Of man and beast,
That is the time the leaders wake from sleep:
To make visits, consoling families
Doling out paltry sums
To next of kith and kin,
But never realizing that
Lives once lost
Can never be retrieved!

(Dedicated in tearful homage to the memory of the many children who died
a sad and untimely death in the recent fire out-break
in a school at Kumbakonam, India.
“May their souls rest in peace.”)


The man on the run

Someone made
a false complaint
Soon the lizard
was after him.

The man on the run

Come the storm
Pull all down.
Homes, monuments
Apart are torn.

The man on the run

Thunder devastation
Bellow smoke
Spiralling up
People broke.

The man on the run

Situation gruesome
Search gates, big floodlights.
Sunk in despair make all rights
Ward off nightmare how one can?

The man on the run

Derelict detritus sits in ruins.
Lost forever his choice
Never, be found freedom.
Conscience hunts.
Futile gags. Make even. No one can.

Man on the run ends until, useless he is to run.

Thoughts of the days

I sat on the bank of the river
It is busy to reach its destination
Anglers are on their search for livelihood
Crows fly around them to get their share

Lawn in the garden grown enough for cropping
Caterpillars are jumping like little frogs
Flowers are in bloom
Bees are roaring around them

The cool breeze embraced me
I thought of the day of my birth
I thought of the days of the agony of my family
I though of the days of the litigation with the neighbor

I thought of the days of my childhood
I thought of the days I spent to quench my thirst and hunger
I thought of the days of my education
I thought of the day of my marriage with my lover

I thought of the day I landed in the land of black gold
I thought of the days I enjoyed the life with my co-worker
I thought of how I ate the honey and honeycomb
I thought of how I drank the wine and milk

I thought of the unpardonable sins I committed
I thought of my futile efforts to rein my desire
I thought of how I reached pinnacle of it
I thought of how I ignored the taboo of the land

I thought of the day of my life partner’s premature demise
I thought of how the God punished me
I thought of the day I met my new life partner
I thought of how I enjoyed the life repeatedly

I thought of the days of my youth hood
I thought of how beautiful I was
I though of how energetic I was
I thought of how enthusiastic I was

Now my hairs have turned gray
My arms are trembling
My skin is shrinking
My grinding machine broke down

My spine bent like an arc
My face is with full of scars
My legs are growing weak
My ears are deaf to the noise of the street

Now I have nothing to think about
I am thinking of rest in peace

Adroit Aegis

She was a limping woman
The pilgrim who returned
To find her daughter run
away with another man.
Ground for a crime.
Madly in love with
prince charm, the daughter
fled from her home and husband
leaving both the children.
Perhaps because he was a tyrant?
But could this be the reason?
For a mother
to be made, an accomplice;
To kill her own daughter!
Did she breast feed her?
Thus justified;
Feel authorised to murder.
Still her for mendacious moral.
Rob her life
for family prestige?
A court under stay order
A judgement worn out of order
Icy cold decisions, to make even-
Wrong doings; Pitiable female offspring
Pay, falling in love, not with her husband.
Punished for not obeying; A price by dying-
With what right such virtuous lay waste, earth
The beautiful habitation long after giving birth?
Annihilate in pedantic postulation.
The heart inhuman; Escalate lip service; Oral keepers.
Chilly feelings creep through the spine
Convulsion for the body and mind
Stare blank, mock life
her body in pool
of blood
ornamented in
a string of bullets.

This incident overshadow all crimes
using a mother against her very own daughter
who was married with two children
but did not want to continue living with the man and fled.

Oh! Why?

The Great Ending alphabet Z stand for zero
Operation, isolate the state, hound its hero.
Pump and siphon out every bit, very discreet.
Target the homebound-
Blast their body and mind-
We have the boss chained,
in our compound.
He will make statements to our tunes
“Bearer, don’t forget his bones,”
“Yes master,” replied the caretaker
dressed in khaki uniform, kurta Pantaloon.
“You mighty giants; what so wrong we did,
By earn from hard work, water, shed, to feed?”
“Why should it give you nights sleepless,
That you plot and scheme, incessant, against us,?”


Blink into yesteryears
Bulbul, Primrose, I trust
My kindergarten friends.

Living far in cold blond land
Miss the smiling morning sun
A wake up call for mother earth
Sunshine and the cheerful warmth.

Today, cynical sky hang pretty low
Outside my clean polished large window;
Another gloomy dark day to follow, I know.
“Be grateful, thank your stars, you’re in paradise…
You lived hell, now you dwell in heaven,”
Said the easy going light coloured man.
“Correct!” “Well, but if I only knew
The bleak cold grey heavenly view,
I would beg to differ with you,
Your concept, of my solace!”

At a luncheon,
The fair gentleman
Was made to eat his words.


With the help of an old chest
a few planks, hammer and nails
we built us a boat on the attic.
I demanded to be her captain
but brother said no that was his job
because he was older than me.
He sent me down into the galley
peeling potatoes which is a job for sissies.
Edwin, my friend, bit bigger than me,
got to be a chief engineer
and we sailed the seas till mother came home and saw
that we had ruined her antique chest.
Brother got his ears warmed
Edwin sent home.
And I?
Well I was only the cook.


Once again a tender leaf is plucked
Before it could bath in the morning dew
Again a tiny bud was crushed before it blossomed into a rose
Again the innocent butterfly was caught
Before tasting the nectar of life

She lies still, as a corpse, worse
Tied down to the hospital cot
Her eyes staring out in to some hollowness
Mouth shut, screaming out in deafening silence
Her ears deaf to the sounds of hell
All her senses succumbing to the death’s odor
Nothing awakes her form her trance
The cruel experience has shattered her brains
Now killing her within with unseen pains

Still, after all these years,
Even a tiny male whisper shatters her peace
She gets bound by hysterical fits
She trembles furiously like a zombie
Her horror struck eyes dancing madly in vain
Animal cries echo from her throat
She withers and shivers uncontrollably
Even long after the whisper has died away.

She lies still again
Just like that rag doll
Which had been shaken mercilessly
By some possessed child.
She lies still
Lifeless and soulless
Staring at the unseen and the unknown

After 30 yrs it’s still the same
She has lost her faith in humanity
And so have I

And after reading all this
To think that the person responsible
Had gotten away with such animal deed
Its disgusting, a sheer disgrace to humanity
Some one pays for someone’s insanity.

The Chosen Vessel

The Master was searching
For a vessel to use;
On the shelf there were many.
Which one to choose?

“Take me,” cried the gold one,
“I’m shiny and bright,
I’m of great value
And do things just right.”

“My beauty and lustre
Will outshine the rest.
And for someone like you.
Gold would be the best.”

The Master passed on
Without saying a word,
He looked at the silver urn
Narrow and tall.

“I’ll serve you, Master,
I’ll pour out your wine,
And I’ll be at your table,
Whenever you dine.”

“My lines are so perfect and graceful,
My carvings so true,
And my silver will always
Compliment you.”

Unheeding, the Master,
Passed onto the brass,
It was wide-mouthed and shallow,
And polished like glass.

“Here! here! Cried the vessel,
I know I will do;
Place me on your table,
For all men to view.”

“Look at me,” called out the goblet
Of crystal so clear,
“My transparency shows
My contents so dear.”

“Though fragile am I,
I’ll serve you with pride.
And I’m sure I’ll be happy,
In your house to abide.”

The Master came next,
To a vessel of wood.
Polished and carved,
It solidly stood.

“You may use me master,
The wooden bowl said,
“But I’d prefer if you use me
For fruit not for bread.”

Then the Master looked down,
And saw a vessel of clay;
Empty and broken,
It helplessly lay.

“Ah! This vessel
I’ve been hoping to find,
I’ll mend and use it,
And make it all mine.”

“I need not the vessel
With pride in itself,
Nor the one that is narrow
To sit on the shelf.”

“Nor the one who is big-mouthed
And shallow and loud,
Nor the one who displays,
His contents so proud.”

“Not the one who thinks,
He can do all things right;
But this plain earthy vessel,
Filled with my power and might.”

Then gently, the Master lifted,
The vessel of clay,
Mended and cleansed it,
And filled it that day.”

Then He spoke to it kindly,
“There’s work you must do,
Just pour out to others,
As I pour into you.”

Prayer at the Hospital

The most excruciating pain of all possible
Is that of seeing your loved ones in pain
It hurts, it kills from within
When you see them resigning from life gradually
The angst, the fear, the torment multiplies
At the sight of their reverberating pain
You stand helplessly,
knowing not what to do
And curse the goddamn nurse for that injection
Which sends shivers down that little body
Each time she wakes from a fitful sleep
You can see in those large but gloomy eyes,
The signs of her struggle for life
Her courage to smile with such dignity
Makes you roll back your very own tears
With all her strength she speaks to you
I’m fine, you go to sleep now
And your heart reaches out and yells within
Why this innocent child of all?
She attempts making a light conversation
To convince you she is but alright
But you can see beneath that fake smile
And read her inside out
She has lost all dreams,
Has no hopes for tomorrow
Yet is striving to live every approaching moment
Oh God! Just see that petite body
On that white bed sheet
Its a child who wants and has a right to live
Why can’t you give her
What other kids her age have
Life and health in their average
If not the very best form???

A little moment

Sunlight through the open kitchen window shines
and the green plant, on the table trembles;
its shadow softly touches a newspaper,
a tea mug and a yellow ashtray
with a stubbed out cigarillo.

A sparrow flies in,
gets caught by the curtain
and fluttering fear is freed by helping hands.
Twits, tells its mate about the narrow.escape!
and Sunday noon glides gently into the past.