Wisps of mental whispers

Shying away from the naked breeze
Soft tendrils of black and white locks
Cross my sensual face in a hurry

Looking through those wisps of hair
The child in me is awakened to count
The strands that careen my eye lashes

Petite knots that run near my nostrils
Quiver as if a storm has befallen
Only to move past swiftly to my lips

Enjoying the play of zephyr on me
I tie my hair up with eyes closed
Swinging to sweet childhood memories

I dig up from the depth of the past
Bare feet running in the fields of open
And burning hands in the lost tug of wars

Curious attic discoveries with the ladder
And ghost stories surrounding lonely trees
Walk past my memory scan in élan

I replay again and again those moments of
My silence upon seeing the contours of clouds
And wide gaping at the screeching pulleys

Hearing the loud knocks of my door
I refuse to move from the windowsill
Only to continue my reminiscences

Lo! Like those disarrayed puzzles
Caught in a storm of beastly order
My memories shuffle in quick succession

Pulling out my boyish pranks in front
A neat collage of past in black & white
Gets knotted to my utter surprise

Pleased with my brain of splendor today
I glance through the window slowly
To paint my mind work with cosmic colours

With the pounding of steps closer and closer
And the known voices nearer and nearer
I lie back on my bed with a false humility

Sshhh…. Let me do my own colouring later
As the mental doctor enters into my room
To trigger my sleep of irrelevant dreams of colours



This is my contribution for Contest Week 13
Picture Courtesy : spk100

Puppy refuses to leave me

Last year, my son was terribly disturbed after watching the movie ‘Vettaiyadu Vilaiyadu’ in theatres starring Kamal Hassan and Jothika. It took him more than a month to come out of the mental trauma that the celluloid violence had thrust on him.

In the film, two young medical (gay) students target young girls for their medical research. They cut the thumb of the girls live, rape, kill and bury them. To the horror of the parents of missing girls, a thumb dripping with blood would hang at their doorsteps.

The boys had acted extremely well so much so that my son started believing them to be real characters and feared that they might knock our doors at any time.

Three days back, when I read the disturbing news in our local newspaper, Gulf Daily News, I was really horrified. I could not eat, sleep, think or stop tears from my eyes. I am pushed to the depressed state effortlessly since then.

A three week old puppy was stolen from the animal sanctuary of Bahrain by local thugs in the night of last Thursday. The headline news was, they peeled off the skin of the puppy from the forehead till the collar, cut both the ears neatly and left him back in the same place to die.

Killing is a dastardly act no doubt but such cruelty has no pardon at all. It speaks volumes and volumes of psychological disorder, mental instability, brutal attitude, heartless character and poor upbringing.

What pleasure could a person derive from such shameful acts? How can a human hurt a defenseless, new born living being to this extent? Even if caught by the police, will there be any trial of justice? Or will the culprits be left free as the damage was done only to a small puppy? What is the guarantee that such sadism will not be tried on humans as well? How could such people be recognized in the crowd?

So many questions echo from the walls of my flat but with no answer.

Puppy has the mental strength to withstand this unimaginable torture. Human beings must have already gained enough distrust gracefully in his eyes as he is destined to live with the physical scar and mental fear throughout his life, thanks to us. Probably he may grow into a fine dog and forget whatever had happened to him in his baby days.

But, just as the memories of good and bad refuse to leave me, the unseen puppy too has found a place among them. At present, he refuses to leave me out of my mind and heart.

Why do you hide light?

O Lady of Beauty!
The dust of memories that glow
Releases tears in a steady flow
Do I not deserve your hand to hold?
Why do you hide light of gold?

O Lady of Grace!
Joy and sorrow make me cry
Shadows of light defeat my try
Do I not deserve your caring stare?
Why do you hide light of my share?

O Lady of Love!
Luminous objects glare my face
Delightful emotions choke my base
Do I not deserve your loving glance?
Why do you hide light of trance?

O Lady of Silence!
Head or heart I know not to discern
Feelings and thoughts I mix up often
Do I not deserve a state of ‘be’?
Why do you hide light from me?

O Lady of Pure!
World of fantasies rule my life
They refuse to guide me when in strife
Do I not deserve my father’s kingdom?
Why don’t you shower light of wisdom?


I believe that this picture of Raja Ravi Varma belongs to public domain. I have uploaded it only for an inspirational write and not for any other purpose.

Spot & light

Writers, poets and authors,

Help this young girl of 16 to master her writing skills. She is childish in words and childlike in thoughts. She is yet to grow out of rhymes and understand grimes. She writes about herself thus……



Blue spots in white
Dressed for the night
On the stage she runs
Lights flicker in turns
Sings ‘Little boy blue’
Hears applause new

Wears gowns in yellow
Knows not how to bellow
Studies lessons of books
Stays away from the crooks
Her eyes roll wide and far
For ‘Twinkle twinkle little star’

Walks her life with time
Tries to reason every rhyme
‘Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall’
She sits alone before a waterfall
Decides to write her feeling
Finds her outpours healing

Like the mother of ‘Three little kittens’
She wants her words to glisten
Alas! She sees them with a blot
Wonders how to gain a spot
To become a writer of bright
Does she need to swallow light?


Through her eyes....

Padmaja Balaji
:D

In search of you

Tender frills of crimson petals
Shake in tempting vigour
To soothe my eyes for a sweet doze

Silver traces of blemished moon
Smile in alluring invite
To close my eyes in shyness

Fearful dragons of incoherent dreams
Fly in capricious moves
To vibrate my eyes in a fit of dance

Bluish sizzlers of oceanic beauty
Swim in earthly stillness
To dribble my eyes with tears of joy

Iced flakes of stirring glaciers
Freeze in piling heights
To cool my eyes of lusterless sparkle

Heralded monuments of undying love
Urge in fancied ecstasies
To open my eyes for the world of hearts

Waking up thus in hope with restless eyes
I walk past the lovers of eternity
In search of you, my only love


This is my entry for Express Yourself Contest Week - 12.

Picture courtesy - Swayamprava

Boundaries unlimited

There is a line of control. Two innocent boys standing behind the borders cross them only to get connected with each other with an urge to play soccer. And they play happily. This is an AirTel ad.

When I watched this ad for the first time, a lot of emotions stirred in me. What binds these two children? It is their innocence, of course as there is no barrier of any form of ego at this age.

Whenever I watch it, I wanted the big leaders of the East and West to take the message in a serious note; I wanted the smile of the boys be an inspiration for soldiers deputed in borders; I wanted the cheer to be imbibed by the young and the old alike; I wanted the ‘give and take’ to be followed among the rival nations not in terms of tortures but only as a gesture of goodwill; I wanted people to realize the greatness of a friendly atmosphere; I wanted all to be a part of one global village; and most importantly I wanted these physical lines of controls be permanently removed though the geographical boundaries be retained for ethical living.

It is an irony that we have to celebrate independence days and republic days to reiterate that we are a country of utmost freedom. But are we really?

The sacrifices done by the known and unknown sons and daughters of India and their ideologies and visions are safely guarded in the history books for competent competitions and school exams and to quote/unquote during election campaigns.

As a child, I used to get excited about the colourful parades & displays of different regiments of Army, Navy and Air Force. As years rolled by, I became a little matured and hence started appreciating the bravery awards given to the soldiers and would even dream of serving the country one day.

I became a little more matured and that’s when I realized the importance of these parades and awards in the truest sense. My eyes become moist whenever a frail widow walks upto the dais to collect the Param Vir Chakra Award. Unlike in films, the widow won’t be given an opportunity to speak in front of thousands accumulated there. She has to swallow her emotions, walk in paces dictated to her, hear the loud applause from the selfish hands, collect the award from the President and climb down silently.

When I think of all these on this day, I feel a pain in my heart for those who lost their lives for the freedom struggle, for those duty bound soldiers who lost their lives due to the irresponsible decisions of the leaders, for those who bore terrible tortures of mutations and punctures and died with a ‘Mera Bharat Mahan’ on their lips and for many reasons that could not be explained.

Sitting in a foreign land, I feel all the more patriotic towards India. Probably, that’s why I have whined loudly. Honestly, whenever I touch the Indian soil, I could feel a joyful shrill running down my spine, for I love my country very much. Yes, love once felt can never be truncated. It just flows in your being throughout.

Today my son has gone to Indian Embassy to sing patriotic songs. He’s proud to be one among the ten selected children representing his school. With all his innocence, he is excited about the gifts that awaited him.

I am glad that he is lucky enough to have memories associated with the Republic Day. I wish he realizes the significance of this day very soon and learns to respect all nations, their cultures and ideologies, for each one of them has their emotional & brave history to be proud of.

Monumental moments

Silken hair playing in breeze
Soft blemish less glowing skin
Lovely expressive black eyes
Innocent smile on the lips
Cherubic face of angelic beauty
Words of grace resonating in air
In a moment of idyllic freeze, I saw her

Soaking drops of honey into my heart
She whispered her thin voice into my ears
Flapping her innocence all along
She laughed at my meaningless chatter
Widening my experience of undying love
She dismissed my egotistic caricatures
In a moment of moments, I was all hers

Wrote sonnets and songs on our love
As she was my object of admiration
Ate her half baked bread & porridge
As she became my soul of life and death
Enjoyed her care that made me feel special
As she giggled ‘we are made for each other’
In a moment unexpected, I lost her permanently

Wished she could come alive for my sake
For my life trembled without her concern
Soft breeze sounded like a typhoon
And clock ticking banged my heads
Without her warmth and loving chides
My beard became my identity soon
In a moment of sadness, I chiseled my pain as a book

Left aside my fortune to a charity
And settled in a hut with memories
Simplified my life with a loaf of bread
And little porridge in her remembrance
Keeping the knife of dispassion in front
I prayed in earnest for my last breath
In a moment of peace, I experienced her in my heart

Walked through those monumental moments…
Her virgin beauty radiating freshness
Her charming, shy walk in the bridal outfit
Her affectionate motherly taunts echoing love
Her playful pranks heralding childlike demeanor
Her soft heart that prayed for the welfare of all.…
In a moment of Graceful realisation, I held her again


This poem is my contribution for Poetry Contest - Week 11.

Picture courtesy - Raja Ramachandra
Concept courtesy - Latha