Monday, 15 June 2020

Inheritance is Polymorphic


Inheritance
Has assumed proportions so dense.
It all began with the invisible DNA,
That defined the class, as they say!

Inheritance
Then became the impregnable fence.
Land in possession became the next object,
Before Kingship got appended to the subject!

Inheritance
Morphed itself yet again, and hence,
The family encapsulated its precious gold,
Inside iron chambers and kept it in tight hold!

Inheritance
Moved beyond the pound and pence.
Abstraction led the way to include codes,
As families were replaced by corporate abodes!

Inheritance 
I feel, may acquire a new sense.
The term may be associated to good health,
As immunity has come to be valued as true wealth!

Inheritance 
Has followed a rhythmic cadence.
And yet, has created many a discord.
This once, let there be harmony, Oh Lord!






Friday, 5 June 2020

Tryst with memory's crest

Perched on a high pedastal
Our lives is anything, but dull
The rains lash on the greens below
While the thunders, in approval, bellow

Sitting atop my humble mansion
I recount the days I had wanton fun
Splashing the firmament's kind blessing
On every passing, overburdened co-being

A wry smile, on my naughty lips floats
As nostalgia recreates my paper boats
Made out of what was held within a book
That was meant to teach us how to cook

We never learnt all that was taught
While in school, we played, we fought
The cruel clutches of life did not spare us
And we learnt our lessons, albeit after a fuss!












Saturday, 16 May 2020

The Surreal Sentiment called Motherhood


“Mother,” beckoned the little voice from within her womb
The baby had, but a few more months before it would bloom
“Yes, my child,” she said as she heard her baby’s voice
“Tell me more ‘bout the world, is there too much noise?”

The mother smiled, but assured the child that she would be there
To grow and groom the baby, holding her with love and care
‘Who else would be there along with you, I am curious to know’
She told her baby that motherhood was a boat that many helped to row!

The father put his ears on the mother’s womb so he may hear his child
“I am your father, I shall care for you like no other,” his voice ever so mild!
The baby wondered, “Hmm, so you are also another mother, am I right?”
 “You are right, my love,” said the father, happy and delighted!

The grandparents, were the next to wish the child happiness and glory
And assured it that they would be ready with many a bedtime story!
The child kicked the mother in glee, wanting to see the mothers so many
“There is a little bit of mother in all of them, isn’t it funny!”

“Mother, I cannot see you, but I can feel your presence,
I float in the chamber called womb filled with liquid so dense
I do not know who you are, and yet I feel happy and well
Isn’t it a wonder that I don’t know you, because within you I dwell!”

The mother slowly began to explain to her curious child
“The bond with the creator is indeed strange,” she surmised
And as with motherhood, every life form that exhibits divinity
Brings upon the earth, peace and tranquillity!


Saturday, 4 April 2020

It's a battle out there!

Its a battle out there
We lose some we win some
Not of them are fought fair
Some leave us proud, some leave us numb

Its a battle out there
We gain a few as we inch ahead
Victory or defeat, we are left bare
Oftentimes they become life's watershed

Its a battle out there
We meet people then we part
We love, we hate, we take, we share
And when we part it is with a heavy heart

 Its a battle out there
Struggle we must, that’s life
We win more, the more we dare
Lest we are left muddled in a state of trife

Monday, 16 March 2020

Distance, not Distant!


Religion, they say started the divide
Removing men from each others’ side!
The naysayers were not too far away
Racial divide, they said made us pay.

‘Economics’, cried the privileged few
‘Caused the crack’, as money was due!
There were men from the learned lot
Education, is what their pens jot.

The noise grew louder and bolder
As men stood shoulder to shoulder
Only if their views seemed to match
Forming groups, batch after batch.

All until one fine summer day
A small little virus disrupted their way
Forcing them to maintain good distance
Suddenly, no longer were they distant!



Monday, 14 October 2019

The power of 'nna'


I hail from a rather conservative Tambrahm family. As per our culture, we address our husband as ‘Nna', short for anna, or brother. I understand the confusion this causes in the minds of the readers. I strongly urge you to get over it. We may get a logical explanation to this from some kind and informed soul sooner than later.

Our parents bring us up with great emphasis on value and accordingly my father has always told me that which ever family I get to be a part of, I must contribute to its well being and blend with their way of life, while preserving my values. When I got married, I was faced with what can be described as Dharmsankat.

It all began with me having to address my husband for the first time in public and I had to abide by traditional practices. I called my husband ‘Nna' and he was surprised. As with most newly married men, he lacked common sense and tact. He asked me why I called him ‘Nna' suddenly, while in the past couple of months that we had been engaged I had called him by name.

There was pin drop silence!

I stood before the elders of both the families, immeasurably guilty. In situations such as these, where I had trespassed traditional practices in the past, I had pleaded innocence and that had worked. I decided to try the same trick this time around too. I told my husband that ‘Nna' is used to address husband and it is only post marriage I could use it. Since I did not know how to call him before that I had used his name. I managed to maintain innocence in my tone and facial expression that seemed rather natural.

I patted myself for the wonderful performance as the elders nodded in agreement. My father finally spoke. He bragged about how his family called each other strictly by relationship and never by name. As with most tambrahm men, they would end every conversation with a hidden attack on their wife's family. In keeping with this glorious tradition, my father further added that even my mother's side would not address elders by name, though they were generally unaware of the exact name given to each relationship!

Through the corner of my eye I saw my mother taking a mental note of the statement for future reference. Some one from my husband's side spoke next. They were not particularly conservative and hence opined that while I should be allowed to address my husband the way I wanted to when we were alone, I should stick to the traditional ‘Nna' in public.

My father tried objecting to this, but realized that he was outnumbered. My mother chose to remain neutral, her way of taking revenge on my father. I chose to agree with my in-laws, quoting my father's advice on blending with the tradition of the house that we are married into.

It was my husband's turn to speak. He was a natural revolt, often times he would revolt against his own ideas! He declared that I should address him by his name and nothing else. My father looked at me and said that if he heard me call him by name, he would stop talking to me. My husband countered my father's attack. He looked at me firmly and said I was free to choose between the two men.

I was left high and dry! I decided to think calmly. I needed my folks on either side to co-exist. I left the place, but not before uttering what I thought was a clincher. I looked at the gathering before me and said that all fights between daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law had their roots in male ego. So saying I moved away. Soon everyone left, the movie was over. They would have to wait for the next show!

Few hours later, I spotted my father and my husband seated comfortably in front of the television. The memories of the show down that had happened only a few hours earlier seemed to have temporarily vanished. They were discussing the country's economy, thee present day ruling party's inability at containing in-fighting within the party, and similar topics. My mother walked out of the kitchen, and my father immediately lowered the TV volume and made a fake attempt to get up. My mother told him to be seated and gave a cup of tea in his hands. My husband, being new to the game of being married asked my father why he had lowered the TV volume. And my father bit the bait! When your wife is around only her volume should be loud, he said, almost instantly regretting his statement.

He finished the remaining liquid from the glass in a single gulp and went into the kitchen. He had to make amends and that to him was priority number 1. He washed the glass and walked up to my mother. He could not spot a cloth to wipe the glass and tried cleaning it with my mother's hanging part of the pallu. She quickly pulled it away and handed him a towel. As he walked out, she called out to him, ‘Nna'. The tone betrayed her anger as she told him not to play the TV in high volume. It was time for her evening prayers. The TV went into mute mode for the next hour or so. My husband walked up to me and told me he wanted the volume on. This was my chance! I told him to settle my issue with my father as it would become difficult to talk to anyone in the house otherwise. He called my father to the other room and in my presence told my father that he should leave us alone. Before my father could object, he asked my father if he had permitted anyone else to dictate terms to him, especially when it came to issues between him and his wife. My father was clearly outwitted by a younger man, not much different from him.

Reluctantly my father let go. Satisfied at having established peace I left the room. My husband waited to ensure that I was out of ear shot before continuing. Owing to his loud voice I have never been out of earshot.  I heard him tell my father that he thought wisdom lies in allowing your wife to call you by your name, while retaining the freedom to watch TV in high volume, rather than claiming supremacy in the way she addressed you and submitting to her wishes in everything else. To this day my father is a devout disciple of my husband! 

23 years of being married, now a true marriage veteran, I have recently dedicated myself to the cause of re-establishing lost traditions.




Tuesday, 18 June 2019

The pen that writes from the other end

Not always are survivors the heroes  as we comprehend
And it may take a pen that writes from the other end
To complete the oft heard popular tales with facts so shy
Though they may go unread, or worse, construed as a lie

Most of the wars fought in ancient India are attributed to the female protagonist of the stories. From Sita , whose desire for the magical deer to Paanchali's laughter in the palace, the reason for the wars has always been  ascribed to a woman. But scrape the surface and many an unexplained bone make their appearance.

As the bride of Arjuna – The mighty warrior
I assumed that life would have not a barrier
But my joys lasted only until we reached
The gates of the palace where Kunti unknowingly preached

Yudhistra, in the name of upholding his mother's words, chose to shatter the kshatriya dharma of winning the bride in a swayamvara. This perhaps was the breach of dharma that has never been spoken of! What was more blood curdling was the dictatorial manner in which he drew up a schedule for the five brothers to follow in sharing her.

Alas, no one can predict the ever changing future
And happiness is but a bubble waiting to rupture
Kunti's fervent pleas to spare the girl went unheard
The rest could only direct their prayers heavenward

Any non-compliance in the regard was punished with a 12 year exile! Yes, you read it right. Yudhistra started the culture of sending his brothers on exile, not Duryodhana, as we popularly believe. Aruna, as fate would have it(?)  was the first one to be exiled. It was during his exile that Arjuna learnt the Brahmastra, married Krishna's half-sister, Shubadra and earned the wrath of Urvashi.

Some facts lay burried within a protected cage
To protect a lone man's ego and his endeared image
Does the generation next dare to set them free
If you care to, then just place your ears on any old tree
Unravel the stories that the world is waiting to know
Humanity would liberate itself from morals so low
Do not sell the woman that you vowed to defend
A plea from the pen that writes from the other end!

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