g's world

A thousand flashes Jubiliant on the spread Blanketing the vast void Print wonder inside They glow, bloom Flash, burst, jiggle and wave They rise and spread Instil joy for a moment And disperse into the dark Like they weren't there But a spark rises onto the spread Creates little memories But floats away with warmth As serene as the behind Meditating upon the void It drifts past the thousands That bloom into nothing Swims past all the glory Like nothing matters much In life It flies in silence as light As a kite, yet holding in The warmth, the joy and peace It moves on, lasting longer Than the flashes that make A mark to not last And fades away With serenity in its drift Creating peace in my yonder.

The rustles were in glee Of the wonders yet to be seen While they flew down dead. Image courtesy:  Internet

What do thee tell me, lord from all the archaic creations of yore? Which remain afresh with time not fade away, in rhyme, The arching heap which binds my gaze, the swooning speck which sweeps my pace, the flowing frill which I get to drench and the cooling breeze which touches my soul Are all your children  the thousands you behold, here to put me on hold? The blinding shine that makes me daze the rooted spine which calls my gaze The twitter that eases my groove the shingles that make up my roof Are they all true  to extend a hand  to help me cling to my gossamer? As I drench in the pleasures of your shore Topple down into the tides of bond Sail onto the miseries that rave, I beseech you  to pour down harmony,  not pleasure, to distract me away from the daze,  not bind me into bond, to shower down the light, not confine me to a shade, to enlighten my soul, not to tie it to things that foul.

There was sunshine, There was daze, as I carted down the pebbled plain, pain was an inmate, freedom had been veiled, as I saw her layered onto the high. She bloomed into tresses of hue, Hue of the onset of a smear, a sprinkle of wilderness of the dawn, a hoot of the pivotal, a trickle of the splatter, and a thousand other, splayed on her bosom. She was looming into the yonder, as he arched down his gaze, specks of the hollow, swooned onto her, and little of the morrow was seen.  While she meditated upon the glassy silhouette I sat there enthralled, with hues of love onto my cheek. Image Courtesy:  Internet

The tiny petals unravel darkness, the skies blush into pivotal, berries ensnare, while I pen down 'VIOLET'.  Image: Stephen Burton This post is a part of the Chennai Blogger's Club CBC VIBGYOR BLOG TAG where some of us will write a post on the colours of VIBGYOR each day starting 1st of September to the 7th of September. The colour theme for today's post is violet.

Every dawn dooms with wail I never opine but in my daze, For I am human, humane. Image courtesy:  Internet

She sat there one night, pages of burden clustered around her. Burden, for the others. She ain't got no fear of stage. The next day was her tedious yet short presentation. A business plan competition. She had come up with an ingenious plan, to outwit the established plan holders and impress the jury in her favour. It was 3:00 in the morning, she was exhausted but still jotting down her stronger points, budgeting down the cost, churning in the income and tracing out the losses of the possible business presentation. When she saw her concerned mother looming out of the dark, her lips traced an understanding smile. The mother plunged back int sleep after brewing a hot cup of coffe for the tireless 'she'. It was the morning. She was up and ready, her eyes sore but delighted on the thought of that day. She put on her best smile, her best suit and a unique pair of golden hoops that reflected her shining intellect. She rode down to the conference hall with confidence lo

Turning smelly air into smiley takes a lot of time and effort. But my mother and my grandmother were harbingers of tidying our home and enravelling mystical aroma into the air. I strongly associate some fond memories of my grandmother when I think about the different smells that unfurl at home. Every morning when I used to wake up by 9:00 AM as a kid, the first person I used to almost see was my grandma. She would be cutting vegetables for my mum to cook. The aroma of turmeric from her golden yellow skin used to waft in the air. When she calls me for bath and to apply turmeric on me, I used to runaway fearing the rabid yellow stains that my face will suffer. But I secretly steal a pinch of the yellow powder just to smell the pungent smell of it.  My grandfather was a voracious reader. When the clock strikes 6, he used to eagerly look forward to the arrival of the paper boy with his favourite 'The Hindu' news journal. When he reads the newspaper, I used to sit on

My Article in "The Hind" NxG, 1st August,2013. Dark is indeed beautiful - The Hindu

Endless storm brushes me past never leaves me alone with my hair pricking my face  like pine Rains pound onto my body making it shiver my body gleams silver when the silky glow pounds my skin Suddenly, there is a heavy swirl of pearl white snow slithering onto me I shudder Ringlets of heat rays gorge on my face quenching its thirst leaving me parched Stillness conquers engulfing my present meditating upon my mind that swirls like sand storm I stand there facing all at once with a ringlet of fire seemingly comforting fixated around my middle Like the ever changing arena my desires never cling but grow and shirnk change form They laugh at me with malice upon my fickleness on being futile, indesicive cringe me into pulp shatter into pieces strangle into dead meat devour my senses and grin with contempt I am torn inbetween them the desire to move yet to stay the desire to

If you had missed the previous chapters, click  here. CHAPTER 7 It was another wonderful morning in New York. Maureen was, as usual, in the library searching for material for her undergraduate thesis. She had been working extremely hard on it from her very first year at the university. In the last few months, Maureen had toiled harder than ever. She had restrained from going out with her friends, calling her parents and even meeting Steve. She had been engrossed in her world of books and reports which would help the thesis come alive. She had dark circles around her eyes and had thinned down to an unhealthy state. She had switched off her cell-phone and had thrown it over the corner of her room. When Steve had tried to call repeatedly, there was nothing but the computerized voice saying that the phne was switched off. Steve was parched of happiness as he continuously tried to contact her. He had been spending hours at the library waiting for her to arrive

If you had missed the previous chapters, click here to read:  Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 ,  Chapter 3 ,  Chapter 4 ,  Chapter 5 .                                                                                                    CHAPTER 6 Ronny was the one to speak first. He embarrassingly apologized to her for asking such a question. “Curiosity got the better of meee.. I shouldn’t have, dear. Sorry.” He told. “Ron… that’s just fine. Erm… are you by any chance outside?” she asked. “Of course not.. why do you ask?” he asked. “Nothing nothing… you know what.. I go for team lunches with my boss and my other coleagues… Do you guys hang out too?” she asked, praying that he must not find her question to be unusually suspicious. “Ah..Wow..Larson takes you guys to team lunch? And you lament to me that you have a moron for a boss, eh?” he asked laughing at her. “Well. He might have been a little considerate, at times.” She told. “Whatever… b

If you had missed the previous chapters of the story, please click here:  Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 ,  Chapter 3 ,  Chapter 4 CHAPTER 5 Maureen sat on the couch with her hands clutching her skull. She had become accustomed to the intense migraine she suffered when in stressful situations and she had surely been under a lot of stress while at work with her boss. But this was because of Steve..of herself and their complicated relationship in the recent past. She didn’t want to go near him, she didn’t want to ask him why, she felt that it was not a crime to be promoted at work. Her guilt for Steve had converted into anger. She had opinionated that Steve was fuming due to sheer male ego that had been roused due to her promotion at work.   She sat there sipping from her can of cola, half expecting him to come back and explain the cause of his sudden outburst.  But no, he did not turn up for the next few hours. By that time, Maureen had complicated things by thinking more

I spread out in peace, basking under the generous ray, that lights my world to sweat. I lie down on a pile of fragility just like my journey under the yonder, shattered yet ploughing through. The green shelter upon my head, is my faithful company every noon, after the sumptuous meal I digest. Though with crevices, a thousand, darkens my day, soothes my tanned cloak. Ah! the appalling breeze, at these fantasy glassed shops, tantalizes my spirits to work hard. Yet I get, the hot wind , sprawling through the naked streets, parching my throat off my last quench. After the short nap, I waddle onto the deranged streets, pedalling hard among the buzz to bring to an end, another day of struggle, to wrap and shelter, to quench and nurture. Photo Courtesy:  Ramaswamy Nallaperumal, chennaidailyfoto

I have something to tell you when you glade through the wondrous yonder strewn with shining speckles I have something to tell you when you glide through the deepening waves as they delve toward the main I have something to tell you when you rot and drop down from the abode of your kin I have something to tell you when you slither onto the coarse sand into the world underneath. I have something to tell you when you bask under the shine as you munch stacks of gold. I have to tell you something as you guffaw in delirious tones when the silver ball rises into the dark I have something to tell you as you swiften gracefully with your magnificent feathers arched wide I have something to tell you when you hop into your tiny hole with your furry paws in fear I have something to tell you as you open into your world afresh every day as you wake up from your slumber. Yes, You! I have something tell you all, that no

                            It was a lovely morning when I boarded the train from the Mambalam station; I purchased a ticket and took a seat in the partly filled vendor compartment. As usual vendors of every type advertised their pens, cucumbers, colouring books and guavas. I bought a packet of peanuts and started munching away to pass the time. I was half-asleep and lolling on the metal wall of the train when I heard tapping sounds in a rhythmic wave. I sleepily gazed around the compartment to find out the source of such noise. I found a woman who clad a ragged sari tapping a vessel with a wooden stick. When I looked at the center of the compartment, there was this girl who was no more than five years old somersaulting, dancing and doing other sorts of tricks with a small iron ring of her size. As the tapping ended, she ran to her mother to collect the vessel and came over to the passengers to beg for money with her infantile voice struggling to complete her words. As

"The bigger, better and beautiful things in life come with patience and kindness." says my mum every time I get helpless and impatient with life's rigmarole. One such accomplishment that I had to wait for was the end of my college life (bachelor's degree). It was the first year of college, I entered the gates with excitement thronging my every part and my eyes were filled with dreams of the brightest future ahead, the amazing friends whom I'm going to spend my days with, the freedom I was about to enjoy, the accolades that I was yet to win and the course which I was about to study (which I had really loved so far!). I loved the library, the stringent teachers, the grounds of the college, the fruit shop just outside the college, my college cultural, the orientation program where many meritorious people addressed us and every other thing about my college. It was one big dream come true and I was observing each and every thing with the glossy eyes of a wondrous

பொ ங்குங்கடல் ஓடி மண் தொடுகையில், என் கால் நகம் தொடுகின்றது போல் விளைநிலம் நீர் பாய்ந்து, விதை விண்ணை தொடுகின்றது போல் அருங்காலை சூரியன் உதித்தொரு கதிர் என் கண் தொடுவது போல் தித்திக்கும் செங்கனிச்சுவை என் நாநுனி ருசிப்பது போல் தேனூறிய வானம் செங்கடலை தழுவுவது போல் உயர்ந்தோங்கி தனித்திரும் தென்னை வான் படர்வதை போல் கருமேகம் கனிந்து முதல் துளி தரை தொடுவது போல் பண் ஒழுகு பரதக்கலை என் கண் கரைந்தது போல் என் திரு இம்ம ணெ ங்கு ம் விதைத்த பொருள் என் கண் உருத்தி கவிதை செய்தது.

One after another they depart, carpeting the muck. Thus, autumn surfaced.

This post is a part of #Soldierforwomen in association with BlogAdda.com It was one of those quiet days without any unanticipated happenings or guests at home. I was slouching onto the sofa, sipping honey nectar like coffee from my favorite mug. I was preoccupied with something in my mind, rather, someone. It had been so many months since I had put in a “HI” to him. I was so preoccupied with my own life here in Chennai that I had forgotten to put in a greeting for one of my childhood super heroes. I am not indicating this post to my dearest dad, who with no doubt, was my greatest hero and companion throughout my childhood. I am writing this post for someone else who also made my childhood memorable, who made me feel special like I was the little girl of his life, my uncle. I could remember with pristine clarity, the days when I used to go and stay at his one bed-roomed apartment in Mylapore which had the love for many such little girls like me. At my arrival, he used

                                   Image courtesy:  Internet If you had missed the previous chapters of the story, this is for you:  Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 ,  Chapter 3                                         CHAPTER 4 She drove back home with a box of chocolates and a Chinese take away as soon as she could. Larson had let her go after he conveyed to her about the promotion. She gobbled the Manchurian and washed it down with a can of cola with a magazine by her side. The magazine contained a svelte model holding a glamorous leather bag brand named ‘Louis Vuitton’ in its cover page and this was followed by the best collection of bags and shoes in the country in the pages that followed. Maureen had her eyes stuck to the glittering staccatos, boots and the handsome duffels worshipped by the white and skinny models. She had already decided to treat herself with the raise of pay she was going to get. It was a significant day in her career and she had no plans of