Curd waits in the blender

Its life is over.

A ceremonious end

Still cold.

Skinned shallots weep

Curry leaves sail directionless

Green chillies brave the pain silently,

Ginger is but shattered.

Salt reminds the sore fate

And the purpose of life too.

To transform self into selflessness

Leave a life lived in comfort

Whisked to be the cool buttermilk

And vanquish the hot mid noon of March

When thirst will no longer feel mighty

dominating the throat.

More like a mirage somewhere

Now the curd is no longer there.

The tanginess and melting butter remain

Tastebuds remember the curd

Gone, reborn in a cup of freshness.

Think of me

One beautiful moment does wonders

A single act of love moves worlds

Think of me , when i feel lonely

Your mind can add space for me.

Come and sing with me, for me

But never think it as a waste

I can give you sweet memories

And a heart much proud of me.

Locked Law

Order! Order!

The court hall couldn’t be calmed

The gavel sinks in the clamour; unheard.

Morphed observations chime in

New findings erupt with din.


Themis removes the black ribbon

She detests the sight!

Weighing scales in her hands tilt

She drops it!

Fairness and wealth stay unbalanced.


Her swift sword is rusted

By the unjust practices to it subjected.

She breaks it into two.

Walking out, she pushes aside-

the procurators in black, gives a look snide.


The Lady Justice ascends steep steps

To the tower overlooking the land

She detests the sight!

Pigeons flutter their wings into news

Blinding all sights witnessed.


Every reason is a story

Of cheat, deceit or treason gory.

What is the speed of law? of justice?

Their line remains long, to the jury

No privilege, no power, to fend their fury.


Waiting in pain for needful gain

Time crawls for those with no penny

Lady Justice watches in agony.

She detests the sight!

Law builds justice, and proves worthy.


Now she rises, it is The Judgement Day.

The verdict so ruthless she will say.

Rest not; in worn books as acts and sections

Dusty files bury not; the truth for odd reasons

Hear the cry of the common man.


As they writhe under heavy feet

Laws guard man in a world off beat.

Manoeuvre the mud like a tough machine

Bring the sunken people to pure sunshine.

Cleanse and breathe new life into them.


Theirs too

Water was surrounded
Women there nonstop chattered
Most have brought many pots
In the sky the Sun was blazing hot.

The thin, smart dog lay under a tall tree
Waiting for amma to get water in pots three
Did he hear a purr?
He turned to find spotted yellow fur.

“My friend, get me some water
My throat is parched; will pay with  a bone later.”
“Come with me I have a plan
Must get there not seen by man.”

“In the house there is a washroom
A bucket full of water and near a mango tree in bloom.”
As the leopard drank hurriedly
The door shut behind them loudly!

“Oh no! I am trapped”
cried the big cat aloud!
Amma must have seen you
Panicked, she might have called others too.

“Today I will be the word for channel discussion
I hope forest lovers will seek my protection”
Hours passed, they talked of violated agreements
Of climate change, dried rivers and disappearing forests.

“Someone was hurrying on the roof
Now is your chance, escape leaving no proof.”
This world is theirs too
Them with tails, horns ,tusks and wings two.


Published  in the Yercaud Poetry Festival 2020 Ignite Poetry Anthology

Water! don’t try to put me out

I can turn you into vapour invisible

Wind! do not try to blow me off

I can spread to turn a city into ashes.


There is no light and warmth without me

Friendship dances in joy around the bonfire

With my name you describe your love

You turn yourself into me in rage, wild.


Volcanoes liberate me and I run down the slopes

Lightning claps aloud and I brighten the dark clouds.

My heat has kept wild beasts away and saved man

From stones he made me, friend and foe he knew not.


Invaders, plunderers and heroes marched with torches lit

As cities burned, people fled, but the emperors feasted.

Flames rise up in prayer, but no match for a burning heart

Incense fills the air; only pure souls win the test of fire.


Often, I burn in vain beneath an earthen pot of water

Boiling rapid, waiting and much await they too

Each second, as flames rumble in their stomach

Money they seldom had, to bring home rice grains.


Costly it was not much, but I cursed myself

Fine silk on her, his dream for his daughter beloved

Not her merits, they sought much more money

My flames gave her freedom from their enormous greed.



Wisdom never dawned on them, furious

They protested, marched and shouted

My head bent in shame, my reluctant flames

Devoured page after page, knowledge mounts


Could a man kill himself and others?

Seeking pleasure in puffs of smoke

When borrowed time ends, lips part

Dropping last breath and the lighted killer.


My breath envelops green world, ablaze

The birds, their small chicks and the nest

Look up to find smoke sailing, like

 In a war-torn city; flee if you can, fly away.


Fire is pure and holy

Love is true and divine

As elements of life

Man needs both

Eternal are those

Sensibly use them.


Judge not a pine tree with its small flowers, yellow
nor the needle leaves moist, in the morning’s dew
Firs, spruce and cypress trees waited every night
for the great gifts laden sleigh, this December too.
Eagerly the bigger gifts will be taken soon;
smaller ones desperately wait under the tree.
The happy faces smile and the conifers sigh
the stars twinkle pondering over the size of love ‘s gifts.
The colourful wrappers like cherished memories
the valued ones; that dim not in minutes.
The time engulfed in your presence; leaving
your kind words; the words put into one’s soul.
Pine cones did easy math, to find
how much you shine for me, with a heart whole.
With dry branches how can a pine live?
the snow will fall, bend and break it.
A warm gift a caring heart, kept below
my wish, new leaves sprout, on every branch.
A Christmas gift, a promise, a word as you shine
I be in your thoughts.
You search for my missing cheer
among the pine trees and you find it.
Shine for me, affirm to be back next Christmas.
My heart rises like the pine
the scent of pine soaked in the mist
renders soft music, merrily the pines sway.
The cones slumber in the frost;
the gifts await the lucky ones.

The Vendor

The colourful balloons kept gazing at the sky
Does the wide grey cloud make them sigh?
There was no wind to let them dance
I stood across, away, seeing Him, offering my silence.
He was alone, so was I with no man to visit
My balloons idled, so did He; the laments did He miss it?
Was I hearing the drum beats, the cymbals?
Are the elephants nearing in slow rhythm, their faint bells?
Water drops fall on my face, not tears of joy
A mother rushes past, tugging her little boy.
“Want a red balloon!” will he turn and say?
They hurried into an auto* to my dismay.
The mask has by now trained well my mouth
To stay shut more; food a luxury, a new cruel truth.
The banyan tree, a mute listener of those sorrows for long
Will the prayers be answered? weeping hearts returned a song?
Many have only hope left to hold on
With uncertainty folding in as life’s own
Balloons had always been with happiness
They were needed for celebrations of innocence.
Wonders hardly happen, but I wait for it to appear
My wait continues, I know time will give me despair.
Crawling, a day reaches its end
Everything is slow, a pace unable to mend.
I carefully untie each balloon from their stand, set them free
I lie down, waiting for the moon, not the same; under the banyan


Rivers flow silent among the rocks
Way down in the woods green
Birds sing their song, fly around
Unaware of a world boiling hot
Where chaos òut number leaves
Problems arè more than flowers.
Ever weighing the scales of pride
Erring thè steps that must be right
Taking decisions that cannot reverse
No time to waste, blood not to spill
Earth is too beautiful, yet we forget
To enjoy the priceless moments.
Waiting for the Sun to rise
The blue bird tried to remember
An old song it had once hummed.
That would throw the buds open
Then fill them with honey sweet .
The light was no more golden
No trees swayed in the garden
The birds longed, but no more flowers-
bloomed there; Times have changed.
Now evenings end late, very late
Dawn hardly showers any dew
                                                            on days new.