Ma

When the demon Mahisha wreaked havoc on heaven and earth,
emboldened by a boon that he thought made him invincible,
when every being believed destroying him would be an enigma,
little did he imagine he would be vanquished by the majestic
Goddess Durga riding a lion into battle. I salute you, Ma.

Today's young woman swims through a society's judgements,
pursues her dreams in spite of all the manifest obstacles,
trudges on with her bravery through every dilemma,
stands up for herself and surprises the very earth from which
she sprung. A Goddess herself. I salute you, Ma.

The Devas and Asuras fought over you while churning
the ocean of milk, Goddess Lakshmi showed us how fleeting
material prosperity is and saw through the cosmic drama,
and travelled to the abode of the one person
who saw through the Maya, Vishnu. I salute you, Ma.

For a few centuries now, her work was not economic.
Respected if a Goddess operated within a line, she depended
on father, husband and son. Today, in a sweet moment of karma,
she embraced her hidden talents and can support
all three of them with her prosperity. I salute you, Ma.

The serene Goddess Saraswathi cannot be described by words,
as she is the bestower of words herself! The mother of learning,
art, the veena maestro, the one with the subtle charisma,
the envy of the world and the embodiment of everything
pristine, her blessings are most sought. I salute you, Ma.

While intelligence has always been an individual trait,
today's Goddess can participate in the highest echelons
of learning. She has realized the value of the dogma
of Ardhanareeshwara and is utilizing the yin and the yang
to make our society a better place. I salute you, Ma.

How I Write Poems

I've always thought creativity and poetry are quite spontaneous and that there is no fixed 'methodology' that you can prescribe to it. However, in recent times, I've been thinking we all have a set of algorithms embedded deep within us that brings out our signature style. Even though, technically, how I write poetry is I meditate on an emotion, make it expand intensely and let it engulf me whole and let the words flow, I realize I do have a set pattern.

#1 Fixing the rhyme scheme

Call me old school. I just don't like poems that don't rhyme. It seems as if it is too easy. I generally go for an AABB rhyme scheme, just rhyming consecutive lines and being happy. If am adventurous, I may try ABAB.

#2 Fixing the meter

I usually go for a pentameter, 10 syllables per line. Sometimes I do seven syllables per line. That's about it.

#3 Throw in a LOT of alliteration

I love alliteration. I like phrases like 'tree trembles', 'wind whispers'. They almost sound musical to me.

#4 The cheats I use

Sometime, I google rhyming words :P Sometime if am too lazy, I'll end with the same word in two lines.

#5 Poetic license

I try not to abuse my poetic license much. I like a good structured poem. One prominent example where I used it is when once I said, "when blows the breeze" instead of "when the breeze blows".

So all this talking led me to try writing a poem. I'm going to try this algorithm in four lines on a very easy topic, the current incessant rains.

Dear droplets of Hydrogen Dioxide,

You batter everyone that's outside.

However, you brought well needed respite,

from both, the heat and the power bill's bite!

Hmm, maybe one day I'll make a natural language generator out of this!

Dr APJ Abdul Kalam

It was a name we often heard with awe,
Dr. A P J Abdul Kalam.
My teacher nudged me to read all his books,
And threatened to question me from the nooks
and crannies. Thus, I ventured to open 'Ignited
Minds'. Lo and Behold! That was such a sight.
A glimpse of his soul shone brightly from it.
Knowledge, truth and a plan for betterment
of India, our unique home. You advised
us children like nobody ever did,
full of life, full of hope and full of smiles.

You taught us to dream and believe our dreams.
Your life was to me, one of the best themes
for motivation. Born in such humble
conditions, you chose a task most would fumble.
With the vision to lead, you steered us all
to greater heights. India was in the thrall
of the duality of your greatness and you humility.

You knew the solution to every plague.
And it was never ever very vague.
Your Vision 2020 was proof
of your intelligence beyond reproof.
You taught us how rich India is and how
we can be indigenous and yet succeed now.

Your genius transcended all boundaries.
You amazed people of arts and sciences.
Your joy and love for children is legend.
Today one of them is deeply saddened.

I renewed my promise to chase my dreams today.
India will rise from the depths of history once again.

A Rainy Day

Pellets of water reverberate on the asbestos roof,
on the metallic hood of the air conditioner,
resonating with the lost portion of my heart, aloof
from the remaining world. A sense of sure
misfortune spreads slowly as I lay encumbered
in my room, unable to meet my destiny.
As the forces of nature conspire unfettered
against me, my sadness swells to misery.
Yet a gentle misty breeze gently pats my cheek,
reminding me that this day too shall pass,
for life has everything and today what you seek,
may just be another hop away or alas,
locked away for eternity, in which case,
it truly never was your destiny. In any case,
relax, take a deep breath and smile.

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

Navarasa

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 fourth rasa, 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 sixth rasa, 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 the Navarasa list.

Daddy Dearest

Happy birthday daddy. Writing for you,
this dark and dusky hour, I find the few
words I know incapable of saying
all that I want to say. As I'm playing
the game of life, you are there when I slip,
when I am lost. You are there on the flip
side as well. You encourage me to speak,
whatever it may be, you make me seek
the answers at home. You gave me freedom
to ask and question.You don't let boredom
pervade this house with your jokes and antics.

You taught me to be wise, independent
and brave. You told me to make tears redundant.
You told to believe in me, myself and I.
You let me dream as high as the sky.
You made me lose my short temper,
as you brushed aside the steaming ember
to reveal a wrong act, not a wronged person.

Yet, sometimes I feel you encumber me,
restraining my wings as I strive to see
whether the coast is clear. And then, I feel
this epic bond of love protecting me with zeal.

You make me pampered yet not pompous.
You teach me to be proud, yet magnanimous.
You make me lead, yet serve.
You teach me to be bold, yet reserved.
You make me work hard and play hard.

Daddy Dearest, I simply cannot make you see,
how much you have done for me and our family.

So, I am simply going to say,
Daddy, happy birthday.

With lots of love, your daughter Sowmya.

A Tale of Two Crows

Long long ago, in a faraway land,

faced two crows who had the gift of the gab.

An arrogant sneer met a soft, gentle

yet firm look. The latter looked very drab

when compared to the majestic and dark

sleek coat that had taken hours to arrange.

“A challenge”, announced the big mighty crow.

Thus the sands of time swirled to winds of change.

“The one who is able to, by means of

his prodigious strength, carry this bag

filled with a substance chosen by his wit

to that tree first will earn the winner tag.”

The handsome haughty crow filled his bag with

cotton. His rival was out of range

as he had used salt. Then, began the rain.

Thus the sands of time swirled to winds of change.

The meek measly one glided to victory

as the salt had dissolved rapidly. He

proved his worth and quietly observed the

other, with forlorn faded feathers. He

felt his rival’s power of silence, while

being dragged by the sagging sack. Exchange

of such stories light up the novice mind to

whom now sands of time swirl to winds of change.

Mirth and Joy - taken from an art forum

Magic Masters over Muggle Me

Around the same age as Harry was when

he discovered magic, did I listen

to my friend’s advice and read the books that

changed my life forever. The Sorting Hat

had chosen me to be one of Harry’s

greatest fans. Bordering on a Dobby

like fashion, I followed the many years

in Hogwarts with passion. A muggle yearns

to be a part of this world since the journey

has truly been magical. As fiery

dragons and Dark forces Harry battled,

in a parallel universe rattled

my soul against evil in my own world.

As Harry caught the Snitch, in a whirl,

I did cheer for him and my very first

poem. Just when Harry had been so cursed

with the worst luck and accidents so

had I been dogged by misfortune. Also,

as he climbed out of it with help from friends

did I forge wondrous friendships. When amends

and sorry were made with alacrity

did I humble and later destiny

was ours to conquer. Alas! my quill dries.

For you dear Harry, till the broomstick flies.

A Chat about Chess

“Chess, milady”, said the king, “is very

serious business. I, for one, am very

slow, moving one square at a time, but in

all directions. Guard yours truly to win.

Beside me, is my faithful queen, a strong

soldier who darts across the board along

all points of the compass for the team. And

on either side of us, the bishops stand

who move diagonally and defeat

the enemy by forcing a retreat

with their wit and shrewdness. Alongside them,

are positioned the brave knights. Strategem

is easy as he is undaunted by

a foe in his path as his steed doth fly

over him in clever L – formation.

Up next are the strong castles. Foundations

so strong hinders diagonal movement.

Hence, they heave their heavy selves and then vent

their power in a straight manner. In front

of us, is a phalanx of pawns. They hunt

their prey one step at a time and forward

alone. They are oft thought cowards

but on the other end become powers.

May the battle begin, my dear flower.”

Chess - John Singer Sargent

Joy and Sorrow

I hate falling ill so often

I hate being alone in my den

When I am surrounded by friends,

I must a paint a picture penned

by me to disguise my pain.

In the end, it is all in vain

as their words but fall on my ears

and I feel detached and my fears

confuse my words and acts.

There are many facts

my pride hides from them.

I can hardly walk, there stems

my reluctance to catch a bus,

absolutely nothing else. Thus

its a simple reason, yet I feebly

blame my poor daddy.

I hate being a girl

sometimes.  All's a whirl

of concern and you are so dependent.

I have my guilt to contend

with when my mom travels to pick

me up from so far and it pricks

my conscience that I was glad

she did anyway. She's clad

with the mantle of duty

and I'm her biggest cause for worry.

A few kind words do numb my distress

but the balm wears off when they digress

back into their own lives. 

Yet out of the ashes of despair,

is born a new me. The fair

angel of righteousness

commands me when laziness

takes an upper hand. I strive

to give back to those who drive

toward me in care. My body and

mind become strong having grand

disappointments and disturbances.

I discover being alone is the biggest

distraction, with the largest 

network at hand and a library

to boot, my thoughts turn contrary

about solitude.

In the end, I surrender to God,

in both sorrow and joy and applaud

the care and blessings I've earned

as well as the trials and learnt

that I love my life and All izz well!

A Beginning

The Story Teller traces
her own story, the races
of the heart, the feats
of the soul and the sweet
enjoyment of the mind.
As the tales unwind
today when the breeze
of change soothes the freeze
of winter and rustles the
leaves of my story, the
vivid illuminations
of the recent recitations,
inked by the quill of time
reflect the midnight chime
heard exactly a year ago.

The last year began on
a usual note masking the lawn
of lush ambitions spread
before me. I did dread
the spate of exams I had
to face. I discovered power
in poetry and the flower
of freedom in obedience.
I was also an audience
to many funny incidents at college.
On quite the falling edge
of May, I bid adieu to my
first year at college. On my
entry to the next level,
I enjoyed being part of the marvel
of a quiz team and winning
a prize too. The shining
crown jewel has to be
my very first "salary".

I revelled in my new-found

friendships with my home-bound

bus-mate, the stories we shared

and the old bonds dared

not to snap either

but grew stronger.

My birthday this year,
from being a humble dear
day sky-rocketed into
an awesome party. Onto
all my friends do shower
my praise for making every hour
memorable that special day.

I would also like to say,

The seed of this blog

Bloomed after hours of slog

this year. Also the most 

impacting and the most

influencing event has to be

my very first tour. To be

so far away from my

family and part of my

unpredictable tour was an

experience I'll never forget. An

amalgam of facing fears,

having fun, laughs and tears.

On a lighter note, of course

I proved I lay in the course

of becoming the most accident

prone person, with potential dents

to my head, glass pricking,

electric shocks and falling.

The leaves are now fresh with

the smell of fresh parchment. With

no further ado, this new day

has begun in a nice way,

waiting to be saved in the

annals of memory. Let the

celebrations begin today,

Happy New Year's Day.

My Mother

Happy birthday dearest mother. Today

let me use my own way with words to lay

those thoughts on paper that I have never

had an apt chance to express. You’re clever,

kind, beautiful, generous and all good

things put together. Even when in mood

to scream at me, even when I display

my displeasure, the harshness leaves in a way

incomprehensible to others. Thank

you ma, for trusting me like friends. Many thanks

for being there for me always. In rain,

or storm, you’re always a call away. It’s vain

attempt to hold you away when I’m ill. I know

you worry ‘cause you love me. Please know

that I love you so much too. That’s why I don’t

mind calling you a hundred times. I don’t

mind being told off for silly things. Not never,

it does rouse a tiny tongue of temper

sometimes. But your obvious care shines bright

through your cross face that I do what’s right.

You’re the one who stood by me all the time.

You’re the one who taught me to stand for what’s right.

You told me to knock the ‘t’ off the can’t.

You’ve helped me shake off my won’ts.

You’ve helped me come to terms with my faults.

You’ve always had high expectations of my potential vault.

You taught me to love learning and thinking

You never said no to my endless questioning.

You’ve taught me to be loving and caring.

You’ve taught me to be smart yet understanding.

You taught me to hope when I was in despair.

You gave me sympathy when no one else cared.

You told to dream yet be real.

You told me to be a boy yet be a girl.

To others, these may seem contradictions,

But to a fellow Libran, these are perfect instructions!

One of the first words I learnt was mother.

I really don’t think there is a more beautiful other.

.

Jobless and Jolted

I am so dismayed,

at the news I heard today.

Although it should have made my day,

alas! I cannot have my way.

It is sad that my foray

into the blogging domain,

should make these poems not have a say

in my portfolio. So good day,

my next three poems will be away

from this space until the fear of disqualification is at bay.