Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Agony and Ecstasy

A beautiful baby was born,
In the early hours of the morn.
The arrival of a bright new life was
Heard by the waking world. The cause
Of joy delighted the mother,
Father, aunt, uncle, grand mother.
Merry Mother Nature lent her hand,
And helped the robust child land
In a bed of roses and see
Three lovely pleasant summers. She
Then plummeted into the abyss
Of sorrow. Something was amiss.
She lay quite still, quivering and
Ill. She seemed poised between life and
Death. Worried faces appeared above
Her eyes, which did not see the tender love
Nor anything else. But God had
No intention of nipping this bud,
And saved her. It made her see
That she had been given a chance
To prove her worth. All day she pranced
Along with her joyous family.
Six years and six days, a medley
Of medicines, vegetables,
Courage, willpower turned the tables
And removed the vestiges of
Disease. After that, success oft
Came her way. Jubilantly, she
Steadily climbed the happiness tree.
Happiness is a golden gift.
But to find it, you need to sift
Through the mud of misery
One again, a blow struck her revelry.
Incidents piled on the carefree
Shoulders that uttered a quite plea,
And broke her confidence, self esteem
And immunity. Her soul seemed
To cry in exasperation.
Again, her courage, desperation
Ultimately made her win the
The ultimate battle that her
Eyes would witness, the battle
With herself. This had taken a toll which
Could not be easily recovered but
Eventually, she did it. The cut
Healed and Dame Fortune once again smiled
On her. She is today, a mild
Tempered young adult who knows that
The all-consuming agony always sat
Back to back with sheer ecstasy.
She now knows that when she sees agony,
Ecstasy is not far behind.
Thus she has registered in her mind
That the inseparable closely
Linked, agony and ecstasy,
Lead to the necessary rise
Of the very powerful ‘LIFE‘

....Written in Std. XII

Monday, July 8, 2013


Born on the ninth month of the year, I write
nine lines each about the nine rasas and bring light
to our traditional drama aesthetics.

Love is infinite like the stretching sky,
precious, as the stars that bedeck it. By
virtue, the mother of emotions,
nurturing and caring like the notions 
of the trees and sweet rain. The only one,
beautiful, like the day that had begun
soft among the dewdrops, where the other
is more than self and yet, like a flower,
blooms. This is the first rasa, Sringara.

Laughter breaks the silence like the chirpy
birds that rouse one from a deep sleep. Happy
thoughts make one buoyant like those wisps of cloud
that float on a wind stream. This mirth is loud,
extinguishing awkward pauses, as those
crashing waves of ocean as the wind blows
on a quiet beach. The happy heart glows
with the warmth of a firefly on a rose.
Thus, this is the second rasa, Hasyam.

Anger rises in one's soul uncoiling,
like the snake towards light, from unending
depths of sorrow. It snaps like a strong twig
trodden by infinite ants, then, a big
explosion ensues, as thunder thunders
across a rainy night. Mother Nature's
fury, at times, can be a sight of plight,
unleashing storms from her heavenly height.
This is the fiery third rasa, Raudram.

Mercy soothes the ailing heart as the rain 
does to the cracked lands of a desert. Pain
vanishes as those tiny birds that fly
into the horizon. It is quite nigh
impossible to find a state divine
as this. It is the rainbow coloured line,
that describes the need for both sun and rain,
both the giver and the taker do gain.
Thus, this is the fourtrasa, Karunyam.

Disgust turns one away like scalded tongues
from hot food, like stars from the day. One's lungs
turn away from smoke, the nose from ill smell.
This feeling contorts the face and can tell
others the displeasure. The heart does yearn
to correct it, like the bud does want to learn
the world beyond and blooms. Yet, it consoles
itself as it cannot make all the souls
happy. This is the fifth rasa, Bibhatsam.

Horror engulfs the heart like an eclipse
in the midst of day. Have to come to grips
with the reality and yet, go away,
far away, like the deer runs from lion's way.
The heart does pick up a lightning fast pace,
like the birds that scatter from a fast chase.
The howling winds among the cackling leaves
on a dark night horrifies even thieves.
This is the sixtrasa, Bhayanakam.

Heroism is a rare emotion.
It rises in the time of need, a notion
of duty, like the bird that saved the ant.
The bravery that rises, like a plant,
growing towards sunlight, searches for honour,
saving people in distress. The valour
protecting all, like the spread canopy
of the forest sheltering its city.
Thus, this is the seventh rasa, Viram.
Wonder expands inside one, like ripples
move away so beautifully, riddles
and mysteries of life bring it about.
The star-studded night sky showering doubt
on one's place in God's plan, the sun nestled
among the mountains, dew drops that settled
from nowhere on the grass at breaking dawn;
everything's a wonder from doe to fawn.
Thus, this is the eighth rasa, Adbhutham.

Peace is the queen of all the emotions,
a state like no other, the one relation
to true self-discovery. The tranquil seas
on a quiet day, the waves that do tease
the ear from conch, the simultaneous
stillness of the soul along with the radiance
of understanding. The height of victory
achieved by the emotions' liberty.
Thus, the very last rasa is Santam.

I hope I have fulfilled my earnest wish,
my new take on thNavarasa list.