tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85071254324153188882024-03-15T18:10:44.435-07:00Musing KeysDear Visitor, do leave your comments about my work. It would be a pleasure to hear from you. Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-32382179614365591822021-09-22T10:15:00.000-07:002021-09-22T10:15:08.496-07:00[Translation] ஆண்டாளின் நாச்சியார் திருமொழி - கற்பூரம் நாறுமோ <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1S5E30gXYL6h90rMMQD787Xg1_TSDv5PIGqXQ26-DNkZdyG5n3xHOYFJ-i_Y1KXEC5jYbBsd2EQR6ZcBBUPx2MI2LvQkEU3y01IM2h4QAxd8CLnLALayriGXOsIDC7lkoaGjScC8rM0I/s568/Andal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="450" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO1S5E30gXYL6h90rMMQD787Xg1_TSDv5PIGqXQ26-DNkZdyG5n3xHOYFJ-i_Y1KXEC5jYbBsd2EQR6ZcBBUPx2MI2LvQkEU3y01IM2h4QAxd8CLnLALayriGXOsIDC7lkoaGjScC8rM0I/w318-h400/Andal.jpg" width="318" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">What form does bhakti take? In deep veneration it evokes intense spirituality. Can one express romantic love towards the divine? Great saints have done this time and again by adopting the 'Nayika Bhava' </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Andal's expression of her love for the lord through her mock anger and jealousy in these two pasurams, is a lyrical treat. </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><br /></div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">கருப்பூரம் நாறுமோ கமலப்பூ நாறுமோ , </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> திருப்பவள்ளச் செவ்வாய்தான் தித்தித் திருக்குமோ</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> மருப்பொசித்த மாதவன்தன் வாய்ச்சுவையும் நாற்றமும்</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">விருப்புற்றுக் கேட்கின்றேன் சொல்லாழி வெண்சங்கே.</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">உண்பது சொல்லில் உலகளந்தான் வாயமுதம்</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> கண்படை கொள்ளல் கடல் வண்ணன் கைத்தலத்தே</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> பெண்படையார் உன்மேல் பெரும்பூசல் சாற்றுகின்றார்</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> பண்பல செய்கின்றாய் பாஞ்ச சன்னியமே !</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Do they smell of camphor? Or as the lotus flower?</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Do the divine lips deep red as coral taste incredibly sweet? </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Eager am I to learn of the taste and fragrant mouth</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Of the one who broke the elephant Kuvalayapeeda’s tusk</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Won’t you enlighten me, oh you sheer white conch from the deep blue sea?</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">You feast on the nectar of the mouth (Who measured the three world with his foot)<br /></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">And slumber in the palm of the sea hued lord</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Hordes of women are hurling curses against you </div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Many indeed are your injustices, you insensitive Panchajanya.</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Here is a link to a rendition of this song:</div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWZfQQnCPlA<br /></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"> </div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><br /></div></div>Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-59083131944699073662020-05-10T11:24:00.000-07:002020-05-10T11:24:05.827-07:00[Poem] A HATE POEM (Written About oneself) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
NaPoWriMo 30 GloPoWriMo 30</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
A HATE POEM (Written About oneself) </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Hey there! Walking with your head in the air</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Looking down on us mere mortals with disdain </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Do you really think you have the best brain? </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You swaggering, pompous know all</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
I’m forever plotting your downfall.</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You nod at our jokes sagely </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Then posit a theory airily </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You were cottons and talk of abstinence</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Shaming our silk ‘n’ gold with a cold countenance.</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You jump up and take the mike </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Whenever opportunity strikes </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Then you sing, speak, put on an act </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Don’t you have any tact?</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Fooling others with your humble act -</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
But you don’t fool me </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
I see through your ruses ‘n’ your subterfuges </div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You large weasel strutting about like a gazelle </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Do you delude yourself that you’re fit for da Vinci’s easel?</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Why do you dress up even to throw out the garbage </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Like a film star at an inauguration, you cabbage? </div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
You top heavy, arrogant, megalomaniac</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
I’m waiting to down you with a killer wisecrack. </div>
</div>
</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-20913648204958855262020-05-10T10:56:00.001-07:002020-05-10T10:56:18.640-07:00[Poem] An AndAdi <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">NaPoWriMo28 GloPoWriMo28 </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><span lang="EN-US"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">AndAdi –(Hindi -Anth + Adi) where a form / variation/ root of the ending word
of the first line becomes the first word of the next line. This form has been
long in use in Tamizh literature since the Sangam period. </span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">AndAdi can be written composed either as couplets
quatrains or longer pieces. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> </span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Her heart
grows restless</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rest is a word from the past </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Passing from
childhood has made her truant </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Truancy a
badge youth prides </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pridefully she
wore her beauty and youth</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Youthful
longings and pleasures she sought </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Seekers easily
find recalcitrant love </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Love that
thrives on the blood of innocence </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Innocence,
the sacrificial lamb of maturity</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Mature
though she grew yet she pines for the ravager</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ravaging
lips that plundered her body endlessly </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Endless tugs
at her earlobes, restless the serpent explored</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Exploring,
his voice grew hoarse, “I love you!” he said</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sayings
have a way of winning tremulous hearts over </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Overhead an
angel shed tears as he envisioned her pain</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Painful was
the moment when he left without a word</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Wordlessly
she watched his indifferent retreat </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Retreating
into a shell the girl is now a shadow of herself</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Self-destruction
who do the youth seek it out eagerly?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Eager as moths
that rush towards flames hastening their deaths?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-88037506317013364842020-05-10T03:03:00.001-07:002020-05-10T03:03:48.674-07:00[Poem] Comance (Romance) in Rorona (Corona) mites(times)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">NaPoWriMo24<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> GloPoWriMo24</span></span><br />
<br />
<br /><div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">It
was quite a tall task to write a poem using pun, malapropisms and
spoonerisms. </span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"> </span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"> </span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"></span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Comance<span><b> </b></span>(<span><b>Romance)</b></span> in Rorona (<span><b>Corona</b></span>) mites(<span><b>Times)</b></span></span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">The <span><i>poached</i></span> <span><i>cotato </i></span>that hibernates in the sofa rises</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Examines its surroundings in profusion (<span><b>confusion</b></span>)</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Proceeds to the kitchen eager for a solution</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">That morning delusion - the pancake(<span><b>panacea</b></span>) for all ills-</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Ambles in without a preamble.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Non greeting, non hugging, grunting, tapping</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">The shemale inversed (<span><b>immersed</b></span>) in music and</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Demands accusingly “Where’s my coffee?”</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">“It will come!” she thunders from a music infused ear</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Though she often thunders from empty headphones.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">They are magnates (<span><b>magnets</b></span>) in north pole.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">He lingers.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"> </span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Looking askance at his countenance she misreads the presence.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">She does a break dance-</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Jiggles, wiggles, tickles his knuckles - he stumbles, fumbles.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Grabs her waist - mid stance.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">She regards the eye of her guy</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Eagerly. The beaver plonks her down - the killer joy.(Kill joy)</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto"> </span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">“Break fast!” He mouths pronouncedly.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">“Compost ...err... bread toast!” she shouts.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">There escapes a snort from a seething snout. The hulk ambles off in a huff.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">There
goes my russet potato manacle clad ( A spinoff of Shakespeare’s famous
line Look the morn in russet mantle clad) she muses, sighs and retreats.</span></div>
<div class="bi6gxh9e">
<span class="oi732d6d ik7dh3pa d2edcug0 qv66sw1b c1et5uql jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id" dir="auto">Dead meat trapped in lives dead beat.</span></div>
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-36146710648922936822020-05-10T01:25:00.001-07:002020-05-10T01:25:03.244-07:00[Ekphrastic Poem] Bruno Catelano's Sculpture <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
TSL NaPoWriMo 22 GloPoWriMo 22</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
PROMPT</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
Art cannot be divided into sections and often one flows into the other. Painters may use a great work of literature as their theme while poets can be inspired by paintings and sculptures. <div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
This is a sculpture by a<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbZS_uk8fH9PxU0UHxgO8qMk_P7eftRNLEakKMxKe3LfXDkAHjK2Z5h-kt3mD0-hdfJUxCJUPj7e_K7sesvW_x-av7SxEgByqznuVNhbs_ze2UmcQRI7HP8W_MgEZv6D1nE6RmdmeggBi/s1600/sunita1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="667" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvbZS_uk8fH9PxU0UHxgO8qMk_P7eftRNLEakKMxKe3LfXDkAHjK2Z5h-kt3mD0-hdfJUxCJUPj7e_K7sesvW_x-av7SxEgByqznuVNhbs_ze2UmcQRI7HP8W_MgEZv6D1nE6RmdmeggBi/s320/sunita1.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
modern sculptor, Bruno Catalano. Bruno Catalano (born :-1960 - ), is a French sculptor, most renowned for creating sculptures of figures with substantial sections missing.</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
He has created life -size bronze sculptures, called, ' Les Voyageurs'. The one here is called, 'Fragments' and is located in Venice, Italy.</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
THE REFUGEE</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
He takes the plunge </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Into impossible waters</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Hounded by a greater fear</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Carrying nothing but a few belongings in a blue bag </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
A truckload of memories </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
A tome of suffering, of loved ones </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Left behind or are long gone. </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Caught between the devil </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
And the deep sea </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
He finds solace in its embrace </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
He is the fleeing refugee</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Having nothing more to lose</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Death in a choppy sea is solace</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
It will permanently erase all memory</div>
</div>
<div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q">
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
But fate always has a different plan.</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Casting him ashore in an alien land </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
It even saves his blue bag</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Will he survive?</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Will life be any different?</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Will be questions that rise and fall </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Like sea waves </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
A shadow of his former self emerges</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
Grows in stature as hope rises</div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
It grows, it glows - </div>
<div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">
A faith reinforcing conflagration. </div>
</div>
</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-75805683467435764712020-05-10T00:47:00.001-07:002020-05-10T00:59:07.122-07:00[Poem] Some Thoughts on Forgiveness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
NaPoWriMo- 17 GloPoWriMo-17<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If you
haven’t sinned at all</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But you're told “I forgive you”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Would it
offend?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I suppose
it would.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Not only
that -</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It would
incite indignation </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And open
the doors to be forgiven in turn.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What of the
juvenile </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Who was
absolved of a brutal rape/murder? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Who walks
free today?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Condoned on
account of his age</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Does the
condonation suggest</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That he hasn’t
done any wrong at all?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Will the
mother ever forgive or forget?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Forgiveness
is a myth</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As long
memory exists</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Despite all
the coaxing to move on</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It lies
somewhere</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">An inert
dog in the sun </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Who
suddenly wakes and bark. </span></div>
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-89087552878283662922020-04-09T07:51:00.000-07:002020-04-09T10:32:46.587-07:00[Poem] 3 Concrete Poems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Day 9<br />
NaPoWriMo<br />
GloPoWriMo<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLAox6x2_4LvwQz6BRsegT219zfZxwnSBzfSVKLpYMofE1s9BHYpuHLIeTpFLyPGRrDQgjeDgofKZg_hjSIMmPEsIrjHPpgHB2FRrtZNoRVhCZHjSq9gUsJ3j4pb4qrKTq1g8ee_8yD-9/s1600/279C8602-3821-4E5F-9B4B-A683EDB03166.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="1123" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLAox6x2_4LvwQz6BRsegT219zfZxwnSBzfSVKLpYMofE1s9BHYpuHLIeTpFLyPGRrDQgjeDgofKZg_hjSIMmPEsIrjHPpgHB2FRrtZNoRVhCZHjSq9gUsJ3j4pb4qrKTq1g8ee_8yD-9/s320/279C8602-3821-4E5F-9B4B-A683EDB03166.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
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</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-45065448777936007982020-04-07T12:59:00.002-07:002020-04-07T13:19:00.930-07:00[Poem] Ekphraistic Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Day 6</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qJ6bzmaGweaI7mEzb1ey9YXCPcQlSjnbMoRpINSVbYKUUwTYdYT-jnbGTyV68koYQB63ZVZflNXF7Ccnq6vTY3xszzq9IpNZmmwTIWMpvQVq_z3gLktoNUlV9pneHu0K9R-2HIDBQF7j/s1600/bosch_garden_earthly_delights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="600" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3qJ6bzmaGweaI7mEzb1ey9YXCPcQlSjnbMoRpINSVbYKUUwTYdYT-jnbGTyV68koYQB63ZVZflNXF7Ccnq6vTY3xszzq9IpNZmmwTIWMpvQVq_z3gLktoNUlV9pneHu0K9R-2HIDBQF7j/s320/bosch_garden_earthly_delights.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">An Ekphrastic
Poem based on Jheronimus Bosch’s Painting The Garden of Earthly Delights</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am a
child clement</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have no
need for raiment </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am the
child of god, the father of man </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before
Noah’s arc </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before the
flood </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And the
fear it instilled </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before
Satan talked or walked</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before Eve’s
flagrancy</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before One became
Three?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Heaven, Earth,
Hell </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">After the
first man fell.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If it were
a fall why then a ball? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Why the wild
party, the orgy?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Why the vagrant
Profligacy?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Every man,
animal, being</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Indulging
in amorous coupling?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What if I drew
a wrong analogy? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A gross misreading
of a great allegory?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps the
painting is from right to left? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What if I
am the consciousness that sleeps as you dream up galaxies? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Or what if
I am extra-terrestrial </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Armed with machines
industrial</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a world where
men and women are equal </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I gave
light, music, I built transport buildings, museums.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But perhaps
man fell </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As he is wont to fall </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Every
mortal greed stems from the flesh</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The centre
couldn’t hold?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a blood
thirsty virus’ strangle hold </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The World
burned whole</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Manu or
Noah was United </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With the
Pluralistic One?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-47020321161008158782020-04-04T06:07:00.001-07:002020-11-02T11:37:48.101-08:00[Poem] Dreamscapes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-f7qs1vWNhL5KGdIBErGCwUu4YxpQ_4mNobQv1zfRPjJrR4Buh6BTA3C23Bh-bAhrVeotMRsWfejwqpOZqRh7QXk3l13uyK9YeM5D1UvPV2wfsKHAiOZ73RSzeGntCCm5P0iPNQgj17m/s1600/dreamscape1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="811" data-original-width="1024" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy-f7qs1vWNhL5KGdIBErGCwUu4YxpQ_4mNobQv1zfRPjJrR4Buh6BTA3C23Bh-bAhrVeotMRsWfejwqpOZqRh7QXk3l13uyK9YeM5D1UvPV2wfsKHAiOZ73RSzeGntCCm5P0iPNQgj17m/s320/dreamscape1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Trudging
the yellow sand </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">While the
sea stands -</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A massive wall
of undulating alum</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I gather
pearls from open clam</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Shells, that
lie scattered in the fog</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Like cranberries
in a bog</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWObw8mKU0ysYmqdeuCmz-riQMGrCYt-pvHnwr1B-DeYX8Zq9QbvUR4BGJWjCmlxfR01EghVoWjO8zI51BkspwyfdLeTrLtChoAzODNhVElcbFiwUjkXecuyX6QAnZThWcNoFTsrLFX3Ov/s1600/dreamscape2.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="332" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWObw8mKU0ysYmqdeuCmz-riQMGrCYt-pvHnwr1B-DeYX8Zq9QbvUR4BGJWjCmlxfR01EghVoWjO8zI51BkspwyfdLeTrLtChoAzODNhVElcbFiwUjkXecuyX6QAnZThWcNoFTsrLFX3Ov/s320/dreamscape2.jpg" width="320" /></a><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am a boat
unfettered, free </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Floating upon
a dancing sea</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With senses
lulled by the tender breeze </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I join dolphins
in unihemispheric sleep</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I wake to
the sound of thunder and lightning</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a boat that
resembles a drum with no holding </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I career
this way and that upon a violent sea</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">While rain falls
in torrents around me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My scream is
an echo that floats in from afar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Through squinched
eyes I spy a boatman with an oar</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My spirits
rise, perhaps he would steer me to the shore? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He gives
out a blood curdling howl, I tumble and fall to the ocean floor.</span></div>
<br />
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-85403029252540780452020-03-23T23:43:00.001-07:002020-03-23T23:43:12.585-07:00[Book Review] Nithya Rajagopal's Than-Thana-Thom<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img alt="" class=" _52mr _1byr _5pf5 img" src="https://scontent.fdmm3-2.fna.fbcdn.net/v/t1.15752-0/p280x280/90971376_204816574079213_1553540154008797184_n.jpg?_nc_cat=100&_nc_sid=b96e70&_nc_ohc=8E69o7o7_LIAX-Iqgl5&_nc_ht=scontent.fdmm3-2.fna&_nc_tp=6&oh=c954990c0d3d3db2769b3abe91ab9f15&oe=5EA0C021" style="max-width: 100%; width: 100%;" /><br />
Than-Thana-Thom, a book of four short stories by Nithya Rajagopal is an amazing little book on Amazon Kindle. <br />
The
highlight of the book is how Nithya has created characters that stand
out and stay with you long after you have finished reading the book. The
second highlight is her felicity with enunciating the local flavour of
Tamil Nadu through her language and through her focus on customs and
traditions that are typical to the state. <br />
The stories are peopled
with interesting main and supporting characters and Nithya has carefully
chosen appropriate settings to showcase them. <br />
Each of these stories
holds a secret which leaves the reader in a 'feel good' factor state
after the unraveling. To say anything more would be a spoiler and
therefore I would stop with one line descriptions of each of the
stories. <br />
The Idiot of Arayapatti is a story of promise and discovery. <br />
The Pious Priest is a tongue in cheek title and is my favourite. <br />
A Wedding in Kovilpatti unfolds a surprise wedding. <br />
Flower Factory is an endearing tale.<br />
I wish Nithya the best in her writing journey and eagerly look forward to more of her writing.</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-12859803937227082372019-09-10T16:30:00.000-07:002019-09-10T16:39:43.075-07:00[Short Story] Eros <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></b><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><img alt="Image result for suicide prevention images" class="mimg rms_img" data-bm="58" height="392" id="emb64BB33888" src="https://www.bing.com/th?id=OIP.lt4m9kvWETc39VIZR2ieKgHaHa&w=171&h=168&c=7&o=5&dpr=2&pid=1.7" style="color: #02afc9;" width="400" /> </span></span></b><br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eros </span></b><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he made his way over the rocks of the much-traversed path
of the mountain, Madan thought over the events of the past few days. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One by one, his mind replayed the things that had gone terribly
wrong in the exact sequence, increasing his frustration. He tried consciously
to blot them out. He tried hard to concentrate on other happier memories. Like
the time when they celebrated the positive results at the lab or the evening at
the science expo where he had met Ragini for the first time. Their first kiss upon
the beach in the quaint seaside town.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But try as he might, he felt the dejection, the anger, the
rage, return. What hurt the most was how he had let down his loved ones. His
father’s words rang in his ears. ‘Son, of what use is my money, if it doesn’t
aid you now? Take everything and return it in installments so your mother and I
can live independantly, as we age.’ Madan had laughed and replied, ‘Baba, this
is the nonsurgical cure for arthritis that the world has been waiting for. I’ll
double the sum at the very least and return it to you!’ Ragini had pawned all
of her jewels, without a second thought to pay for the marketing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But what has seemed so promising at the experimental stage had
tanked at the launch. His close friend and co-founder had ignored a crucial detail
which surfaced then. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The scientific
community accused Madan of fabricating the results. Heroically he took the entire
blame upon himself but as he went down, he lost everything – his reputation as
a scientist and the company that he had labored so hard to build. Now there was
no turning back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he climbed jaggedly across the uneven rocks, he stubbed
his toe. It began to bleed. The pain was intense. He laughed hysterically which
echoed all around him. What would it feel like, when he took the actual plunge over
the edge, would he hear his bones break? Would his death be instantaneous, or
would he writhe in pain till he passed out? But the thought of physical pain
seemed less severe than a lifetime of shame and regret.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He looked around, he had reached the summit despite the
bleeding toe, which had gone numb from the pain. Poised at the brink with one
foot firmly planted on the ground he stared apprehensively at the deep gorge
below. He saw a tangled web of vines, dry brush and bramble amid the rocks and
pebbles of the hillside. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He took a deep breath and let himself fall; a shrill scream escaped
his lips. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To his surprise, though, he
found his bruised hands clutching at a thick vine that was embedded in the vegetation.
He was surprised to find that his body was not willing to let go of life all
that easily. The vine dislodged bit by bit like a buried rope preventing his
fall and he found himself landing feet first, on a ledge. His heart was
pounding wildly, blood oozed onto his torn clothes from the many cuts in his
body. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sat at the ledge, woefully out of breath, his hand still
held onto the vine. It looked brown and lifeless. Yet, surprisingly, it had
taken on his body weight and prevented his fall. He found its roots growing close
to the ledge. To his utter surprise, he found sections that were turning green.
Nature, it seemed, never gives up the fight. Never dies voluntarily. Dead
plants spring up after the slightest rain. Dormant seeds sprout life. As he
stared at the root he smiled for the first time and found the heaviness dissipate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fate had given him a second chance at living. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contrary to what people said, it did take
courage to take one’s life but what is even more courageous is to fight back. Death
would have been a quick end to his agony, but would have caused his parents,
his Ragini, a lifetime of misery. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He would live, he would fight and if he fought back hard enough,
his fortune too might give him a second chance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-2367068640044505072018-08-30T12:06:00.002-07:002018-08-30T12:14:03.506-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTGfXOBbQImTaBNegPN6m1agSf4OFpCMr4CDKnySyhs9UMf4grH1RqpqKY0qQqoONFD-l3v7uR3jrT7VltBcAi-UYtV6tPaPYOUj3SzNE2vAUpfhaG3OLEkb7KEMyZiTd8FhNdtKkSH1A/s1600/Flickr_-_law_keven_-_Long_Hot_Summer.......jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTGfXOBbQImTaBNegPN6m1agSf4OFpCMr4CDKnySyhs9UMf4grH1RqpqKY0qQqoONFD-l3v7uR3jrT7VltBcAi-UYtV6tPaPYOUj3SzNE2vAUpfhaG3OLEkb7KEMyZiTd8FhNdtKkSH1A/s320/Flickr_-_law_keven_-_Long_Hot_Summer.......jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="aju">
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A burning sun </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Jaunts across the earth</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All day and part of the night</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Leeching water from every pore</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Parched throats clamour for refill</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dust storms rise</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">False rain mists dusty windows at night</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a tortoise in a shell-</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Through drooping lids I dream</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Of a balmy breeze </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lacing its Spring fingers through my hair</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The flowers compete</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Waging a war of scents </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Plaguing every sense </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pathways glow </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With soft petals of every hue</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The bees sing and dance in a ring</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No fear of a sting</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The leaves sport all shades of green</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As they preen under a gentle sun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The rising dew sprinkles generous droplets</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Over petal and leaf goblets </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Children play all day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Their voices bouncing on the green </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">And laughter springs from every swing </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">If only </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">All of earth had Spring and only Spring</span></div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-90421074207598085772017-10-25T06:22:00.000-07:002017-11-20T02:01:03.915-08:00[Poem] On killing a Tree <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On killing a tree<br />
<br />
So, they fell like leaves<br />
In the sadistic Storm <br />
The men the women the children<br />
Swaddling babies <br />
Captured by deceit, coercion <br />
Smoked out of hideouts<br />
Caught before they could flee<br />
The branches, leaves of the Ethnic Tree<br />
<br />
Bundled into trains<br />
Carted off to feed<br />
Every burning pyres<br />
Or flogged<br />
Till backs broke,<br />
Spirits and bodies fell- <br />
Pell mell<br />
<br />
Their belongings piled<br />
Mounds upon mounds<br />
of suitcases, footwear,<br />
Clothes, toys --<br />
Rotting leaves<br />
Awaiting release <br />
<br />
<br />
Brutality<br />
Has fancy names<br />
Genocide, Ethnic Cleansing<br />
Attempts made time and again<br />
To expose, exterminate, expunge<br />
Entire communities<br />
<br />
Yet,<br />
There is Survival<br />
Revival.<br />
Return.<br />
So, it is never done.<br />
<br />
On Killing A Tree<br />
#KaafiyaMilao<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-83858520080532751402017-08-12T13:37:00.000-07:002017-11-22T09:41:49.829-08:00[Poetry] Picture Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4Gdndyv5HVIsGZGyOCE-WVUXABw7_fP5OY23PcU1uMyL9l-DNrVKg10k06pABIhQVXrW0Y6wN3mgQ-EuJp6_Kfg9X5t2JZfZL0hXCxJm4sWh8AmMtSHodVQtZwWL0dWCDRP2h3x85teT/s1600/20645187_10159121342020006_3759080937392578631_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn4Gdndyv5HVIsGZGyOCE-WVUXABw7_fP5OY23PcU1uMyL9l-DNrVKg10k06pABIhQVXrW0Y6wN3mgQ-EuJp6_Kfg9X5t2JZfZL0hXCxJm4sWh8AmMtSHodVQtZwWL0dWCDRP2h3x85teT/s320/20645187_10159121342020006_3759080937392578631_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
The poem was written in response to this picture.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">I will walk into the tide<br /><br />Break and fall upon the waves<br /><br />One by one I have undone<br /><br />my hold upon the world<br /><br />The world is a blue void<br /><br />The sky above the sea below<br /><br />The sand sinks softly under my feet<br /><br />Soothing calluses earned<br /><br />From thorny pathways tred<br /><br />The sea would fall<br /><br />Caressing, lavaging the pits <br /><br />And undo it all<br /><br />The world is a blue void<br /><br />Hearts with love devoid<br /><br />Man, a trampling humanoid<br /><br />With every fall<br /><br />No hope at all<br /><br />The race is lost<br /><br />Before the start<br /><br />The relentless waves <br /><br />break hard against the shore<br /><br />With a vigorous uproar <br /><br />The sound and the fury <br /><br />Of infinity<br /><br />The salt from my tears<br /><br />Blend with the spray<br /><br />I blend a finite life<br /><br />Of petty woes<br /><br />Pitiful throes <br /><br />I find my peace<br /><br />I find my cure<br /><br />In this azure eternity</span></span></div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-51906445357528615972017-08-10T09:12:00.000-07:002017-11-05T03:01:14.840-08:00[ Short Story] Afternoons in Childhood <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Amrit threw down the pencil in frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doing fraction sums on a half empty stomach
upon a Sunday afternoon was neither easy nor desirable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His stomach growled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He should not have protested so strongly about the beetroot
curry. He went into the kitchen to see if his lunch plate was still there. His
mother sometimes left it covered, knowing that he would return, even adding an
enticement like papad or a small bowl of sev. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But today, she had been particularly annoyed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He tiptoed into his parents’ room to see if they were asleep,
then he crept out of the house, wheeling his bicycle to the elevator. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His lived on the fifth floor of a 9 storey apartment
block.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He pedaled to the back yard to check if any of his friends
were playing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one was about. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The summer sun hovered threateningly above, shoving </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
wanderers indoors. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crows waddled about, pecking at food droppings from over
flowing dumpsters their feet half buried in the soft-top soil. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He chased them on his bicycle. They rose cawing furiously; some
flew threateningly above his head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He soon grew tired of this pastime. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He circled the building and through shaded eyes scanned the
monolithic column to see if any of his friends were playing in the balconies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly, the smell of potato bhajjis roasting in hot oil,
assailed his nostrils. The hunger he had kept in abeyance, rose again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He took a couple of listless turns around the building. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He hesitated. Perhaps, it was time to go home. His mother
might relent or, would she?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He made his way irresolutely towards the elevator. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 112.65pt;">
He left his cycle in the corridor
and rang the bell. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 112.65pt;">
Lalitha opened the door; her
right hand was caked with flour. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw Vipul at the
head of the table, his cheeks bulging with the bhajjies stuffed hurriedly into
his mouth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Vipul glared at him, shaking his head vigorously, signalling
him to leave. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Aunty, I wanted to see if Vipul wants to play…” He gave her
his winning smile. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She nodded and let him in. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He smiled triumphantly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He had been right about the house. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-20597595847089912072017-04-13T18:05:00.000-07:002017-04-13T18:42:53.415-07:00[Poem] The Woman in the Woods - An Ekphrastic Poem<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUiQbXthKmN2Y2-WxSTYMzqX2g9o4VQOS88nHVAxJsg4qkWUhY_gGLQKNBSOVCwPaRzFu1UY0rbrkREA6V3SRuhV3PsNcPwf1HjSeqBiB2vl2jbylBEBFjU_8KvQ3gKABLb1zYSF7CHn0/s1600/unknown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAUiQbXthKmN2Y2-WxSTYMzqX2g9o4VQOS88nHVAxJsg4qkWUhY_gGLQKNBSOVCwPaRzFu1UY0rbrkREA6V3SRuhV3PsNcPwf1HjSeqBiB2vl2jbylBEBFjU_8KvQ3gKABLb1zYSF7CHn0/s320/unknown.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
<br />
Painting by Sushmita Gupta<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I spied her among the forest trees<br />
Her soft humming echoing in the dusk’s stillness<br />
A forest nymph swathed in green georgette<br />
Hiding her long lustrous hair in a tight oiled coil<br />
I lost myself at the brink of the deep swirl of her liquid eyes<br />
Evocative, their power moated by kohled rims</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
She plucked a hibiscus and struck it absently in her hair<br />
I knew it would remain there<br />
Secure – much like her fastened thoughts</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
The stark vermillion mark on her forehead<br />
Was it there, to ward off advances <br />
Or was it a symbol of her own confinement?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I wondered…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For, her lissome beauty</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Would enslave all that she surveyed<br />
<br />
Even the modest beads swinging from her ears and neck<br />
Shone in borrowed glory</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
Yet, the downward curl of her lips,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The angry red spots on her cheeks<br />
Invaded my aesthetic ruminations…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
I drew closer.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Dear woman, you are no Ravi Varma
damsel with bashful eyes<br />
Life had visited you Time and again -<br />
You bear its marks<br />
The angry red streak on your forehead, perhaps sustained from a fall<br />
Your cheeks roughened by vicious assault</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
Yet you go on<br />
Defiance burns in your eyes<br />
And in the firm set of your lips<br />
Life’s attempts to break you fail<br />
You fight back<br />
And sport with the dragon flies</span></div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-56079369259235418032017-03-11T02:13:00.001-08:002017-03-12T10:50:39.632-07:00[Poem] The Curse of Modernity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
This poem was written in response to a contest conducted by Dr Saantosh
Bakayya, who took the above picture. It was declared as a winning entry
along with four other poems, in the literary group The Significant
League. <br />
<br />
Please click on this link to hear the audio recording of the poem<br />
<br />
https://soundcloud.com/bhuvaneshwari-shankar/the-curse-of-modernity<br />
<br />
<br />
When did my world begin to change?<br />
Frozen in a dizzying time warp,<br />
I stand nailed to the ground <br />
Feeling a a giant train blast through me<br />
Littering my world with alien debris<br />
<br />
The television came<br />
With it, the advertisements <br />
That bid to change with the times<br />
Oh! the relentless bombardment <br />
Day after day<br />
Bewilderment<br />
Day after day<br />
<br />
Watching shadows, I could tell the time <br />
Unlearnt it - to own a watch<br />
My spun cotton no longer trendy<br />
I spend a better part of my earning<br />
On clothes that no longer fit<br />
In pantaloons badly stitched<br />
<br />
The local grocer changed his ware<br />
Traditional was passe <br />
Potato silvers, biscuits, soft drinks in the display<br />
We ate that too, because the advertisements told us to<br />
<br />
The rich own the world<br />
They always do<br />
They get the best slice of the consumer pie<br />
We get the crumbs<br />
And call it nectar<br />
<br />
All this talk of organic farming<br />
But we have always been organic<br />
Till the pesticides came on the scene <br />
Our water ways on the verge of pollution <br />
The village air<br />
Toxin free for now <br />
I dread the sick world<br />
Which is my child's inheritance <br />
<br />
The local shaman has been shamed<br />
By men in white coats<br />
He has not the wherewithal<br />
To fight diseases of the modern world <br />
<br />
The city - a tantalizing temptress beckons<br />
Dimmed- the senses lie, in the bright lights<br />
But I have come not to drown in her pleasures<br />
Disease is a demon at my back<br />
And, I have come gathering all that I ever owned<br />
Fear compels, so does hope for a death postponed <br />
<br />
The giant shark waits<br />
Its mouth wide open, fangs exposed<br />
It swallows all<br />
And hungers for more <br />
My money, my dignity, even my footwear <br />
My life is a study in despair<br />
<br />
I await the word of the shaman in a white coat <br />
Little realizing that he is but a sham<br />
I squat here my defilement complete<br />
In a shabby road unkempt<br />
The corporate shark has sucked<br />
My life's blood<br />
Barely have I, anything left<br />
for a meal or even a bottle of water<br />
A hotel stay is but a pipe dream<br />
<br />
All around me vehicles blare and hurry past<br />
Men and women move fast <br />
Hurrying towards something<br />
I am all alone<br />
In a loveless world<br />
Shorn of everything<br />
I squat in the filthy street<br />
Dreaming of the green fields back home</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-31864679302808511782017-03-03T02:33:00.001-08:002017-03-03T02:33:56.397-08:00[Poem] Temptress- A Feminist Reading<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Image source:https://www.arab-painting.com/pic/Oil<br /><br />
The Virgin and the Temptress<br />
Have always been here<br />
Since Creation <br />
<br />
Born and reborn in myth<br />
Only, the Temptress<br />
Siren Eve, Shurpanaka, <br />
Time and again<br />
Reinvented<br />
She is a courtesan<br />
A dancer, musician, an entertainer <br />
<br />
The temptress today<br />
Unveil her many graces<br />
In celluloid<br />
As voyeuristic cameras<br />
Explore her in the minutest detail<br />
<br />
Men will of course call her a goddess<br />
worship her in the silver screen<br />
Yet <br />
Gape at her posters<br />
Salivate in private<br />
Call her <br />
Unfactually<br />
Unfaithful<br />
<br />
Neither goddess nor nymphet,<br />
She is<br />
A mere puppet<br />
In the (film) Maker's hand</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-47311441461474939592017-02-14T02:02:00.000-08:002017-02-14T02:02:10.204-08:00[Short Story] Many Tales to Tell<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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{page:WordSection</style>Arjun sat on the sofa, agitation written all over him. Every few minutes he changed the songs in his play list, tiring easily of each one. Either he didn't know the whole song, or the lyrics were bad or it was too tough. <br /><br />He felt his mother's touch on his shoulder and saw her looking down at him in amusement. <br /><br />'What is all that frustration for? <br />You are going to break that iPod today. <br />Don't think, your father will buy you another one all that soon.' <br /><br />Seeing her laugh only heightened his anger. <br />He plucked the headphones and flung the iPod along with it on the sofa. <br />'The cultural programme at college is starting tomorrow.<br />The music competitions will happen day after. <br />The seniors said, that they are banking on me. <br />And I am not even able to decide on the song yet...'<br />He gave her a blank stare. <br /><br />She sat next to him, and gave him a hug and he slumped down on her lap, even letting her ruffle his hair, which he was very protective of, ever since he joined college.<br />'Oh! you remind me ever so often that you are still that little boy, whom I desperately wanted to grow up. <br />But, it is nice to meet him, every now and then.' <br />He sat up suddenly and glared at her.<br />'Ma, cut the crap ... <br />I think I'll go out...' <br />She jumped up and stayed him.<br />'Hey, calm down... </div>
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<br />I have saved some of the new songs ... you know... those that you haven't heard ... I am also sure you will find something interesting...' <br />Mothers know their sons best and he did find that magical song. </div>
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<br />The beautiful love song, sung in his earnest voice moved almost everyone in the audience. <br /><br />'My nights grow listless without you <br />My heart grows agitated with out you <br />My peace deserts me without you...' <br /><br />Every girl there felt, that he had actually sung the song for her. <br />He was the most popular guy in college from the next day. <br /><br />The song helped him meet and marry his future wife. <br /><br /> II<br /><br />Arjun stood in the kitchen, cooking an elaborate meal of dhal and parathas. He fortified himself with a steady supply of tea that simmered on the smallest burner in the cooking range. The kitchen was an absolute mess, but he had won the cleaning lady's heart with his generous tips and his kindness. <br /><br />Now that he was alone, he wanted to make the best use of his free time. ‘Freedom from bland cooking!’ he shouted or rather sloganeered as he slathered more ghee over an already soggy paratha. <br /><br />His mind kept reminding him of what lay in wait that evening. <br /><br />Marriage, he agreed, was good yet there were many sacrifices, some of which, he missed terribly- like his friends or the late night parties with them. <br /><br />He hated having to behave so responsibly all of the time. <br />‘Come prepared with some songs…’ his friends had ordered, they were equally eager to meet him. They specifically requested for a song that was taking the Internet by storm. </div>
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<br />It was a song of joy, a song of liberation, a song of celebration. <br /><br />He worked up the mood to sing it with the right amount of gusto. <br /><br />He sang it loudly and experimented with a few moves that could go with it. <br />In his enthusiasm, he failed to notice the generous drippings of ghee that had enriched not just the paratha, but the floor as well. <br /><br />He felt his feet slipping and fell with a thud, the song turning into a whimper in his lips.</div>
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He could never recall the events that followed clearly, but he found himself being helped by a contrite tearful wife, who looked at him, her eyes brimming over, with love.</div>
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<br /> III </div>
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<br />Years later, when her children grew up, she would tell them her love story animatedly. How her husband, their father had loved her the moment he set eyes on her and how he had wooed her with his song at the college cultural show. She would tell them of their first fight and how, when she had returned home plagued by pangs of guilt, she had found him slumped on the floor, crying his heart out for her <br /><br />‘Oh! my wife has gone away to her mother’s…’ <br /><br />She would also tell them of her firm resolve to never leave his side, ever again… <br /><br />And that, my friends, is how myths are born and propagated.</div>
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-51453047723333854162017-02-01T10:34:00.001-08:002017-02-01T10:37:33.619-08:00[Poem] Hymn to Defeat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Image was found at
<a class="external" href="http://dods.gamebanana.com/maps/66486">http://dods.gamebanana.com/maps/664</a><br />
<br />
I walk this road<br />
Alone<br />
Axing<br />
Beastly foliage<br />
with bare hands<br />
If I fall <br />
I crawl<br />
With the insects in the dust <br />
<br />
I walk<br />
Clawing at cobwebs<br />
Mummified in grey tendrils<br />
A noose gripping my throat <br />
<br />
In dark caves<br />
I cower <br />
Fear laughs<br />
And swings from the roof<br />
Or hovers<br />
Overhead, leering <br />
Waiting to taste despair<br />
<br />
Yet<br />
<br />
There is no turning back<br />
There never was<br />
Will each trudge<br />
Towards the Promised Light <br />
<br />
The landscape shifts <br />
Paths become roads<br />
Roads turn to ruin<br />
Dust powders buildings<br />
Rust and grime reign tall </div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-76881022726212226152016-11-21T10:08:00.003-08:002016-11-21T10:08:56.782-08:00[Poem] Empathy?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />I see the tears in your eyes <br /> In a broken voice you share your pain <br /> I offer comfort<br /> My words sound hollow <br /> Even to me<br /> For within me too lies<br /> A crater <br /> A void <br /> Where pain and self doubt <br /> Rage <br /> My eyes rain tears <br /> And hurt wrecks my heart<br /> You are of this earth and so am I<br /> I can neither feel you pain <br /> Nor halt its return <br /><br /> Yet, I say the things you want to hear<br /> Hoping, praying <br /> it will bring you lasting cheer</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-36416367797842167812016-08-23T17:04:00.000-07:002016-08-23T17:04:02.635-07:00[Poem] In the Land of Sindhu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Proudly flows the Sindhu river<br /> In the land that is named after her<br /> And today that same nation, voices in unison<br /> Your name in one breath, lauds your mission<br /> You, the young star on the horizon<br /> Have pirouetted the country in jubilation<br /> India, your women have finally arrived<br /> Sindhu's Silver, our birthday present, delivered Indian style!<br />
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Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-13430067792529648302016-06-21T01:10:00.004-07:002017-12-27T00:57:36.831-08:00[Poem] Adrift<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We live in troubled times. There are approximately 65 million displaced people who are fleeing their homelands either because their country is in conflict or because they face persecution or are poverty stricken. The 19th of June is observed as World Refugee Day.<br />
This poem originally appeared in the online portal Different Truths. <br />
<br />
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<b>Adrift</b></div>
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<br />
The monster roars<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> Dropping shells<br /> I now know what shell-shocked is –<br /> Shell shocked is to lose a neighborhood<br /> Friends, familiarity<br /> In one stroke<br /> To have history erased<br /> In one stroke<br /> Shell shock is red paint splayed on a domestic scene<br /> Rough hearts wipe my canvas clean</span></div>
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<br /></div>
Streets become rivers<br />
Ferrying the dead and the living<br />
I desperately pray for a branch, a log, a twig<br />
To anchor me to my land<br />
<br />
Death drops its mantle on the fortuitous<br />
Hope gathers up the dammed in his folds<br />
Oh! This foolish hope<br />
Oh! This foolish wish to live<br />
Riding a wispy fate I flee<br />
I run for days<br />
And drift over seas<br />
<br />
I had a job, a routine<br />
I had hopes I had dreams<br />
All in an another life<br />
Now I am a cell in a mass of surging humanity<br />
A nameless hopeless spectre<br />
Without an identity<br />
I am a rudderless refugee<br />
Will I ever wrest back my dignity?</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-17112854318894806772016-06-13T13:30:00.001-07:002016-06-15T06:38:50.358-07:00[Short Story] The Diverging Road<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
It was early afternoon. Venu surveyed her surroundings doubtfully. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found the signboard. It read <b><i>Venpani</i> Peak</b>. What lay ahead was a steep slope. She began the ascent, lips pursed. <br />
<br />
She panted a little. The heavy camera that hung around her neck swayed and twisted heavily, with every stride, as she negotiated the jagged steps. Sharp branches of dead wood that grew alongside the path, grazed her elbows and legs. <br />
<br />
<i>‘Damn! I should have worn something more sensible!’</i> she exclaimed as she looked down with dismay at her sleeveless short dress. Several red marks marred the smoothness of her arms and legs. She rubbed them to relieve the pain.<br />
She slowed down to catch her breath and clicked pictures of the golden sunlight filtering in through the curtain of leaves.<br />
The charm of her surroundings engulfed her and she gave in to the pure mountain air, the greenery and the sound of the wind that whooshed through the trees. <br />
<br />
Venu was pleased with herself when she finally reached the peak. She spied a wooden bench a little distance away and rushed towards it to rest her aching limbs. But as soon as she sat down, she stood up again drawing in her breath sharply. She was greeted by a sight that she had only seen in the screen savers in her computer. She ran to the brink to drink in the panoramic view of the hills covered in green, dotted with rocky precipices and straight ahead of her, lay a white, misty, waterfall that fell several meters below into a wide river that meandered and vanished through a bend in the rocks. She stood transfixed for a long while and then began photographing it all in a frenzy, eager to capture the sheer beauty and transfer it all into her camera. <br />
<br />
She heard the soft rush of a mountain stream and set out to find it. She washed her face and drank the cool water thirstily. Rejuvenated, she moved about capturing wild flowers through her lens, all the while imagining the ripples and the envy it would stir up among her classmates, who were at the base camp. She and her college mates had arrived just that morning on a botanical expedition to the mountains and she had slipped out quietly at lunchtime for her own little adventure in the hills. <i>Will they miss me? Would they perhaps look for me? Would Akil stall them? </i>she wondered. <br />
<br />
Venu wasn't the adventurous type at all, but Akil had challenged her to do it and she was never one to back down from a dare. <br />
<br />
‘<b>Thank you Akil, I have the entire hills to myself!’ </b><br />
She shouted hands cupping her mouth, waiting eagerly for the reverberation. <br />
<br />
But thoughts of nature, beauty and peace gave place to fear doubt and panic. <br />
Venu was seized by the thought that she had not seen another human being all through. <br />
<br />
Her survival instincts kicked in. <br />
<br />
She looked around anxiously for the path that would take her back. <br />
<br />
But a few false trails later, Venu realized that she was completely lost. <br />
<br />
<i>What sort of a boyfriend was this stupid Akil? </i><br />
<i>He could have easily slipped out with me or he should not have put me up to this</i>! She lamented. <br />
<br />
Hunger pangs gnawed at her stomach.<i> Just take any path downhill …it would lead to civilization</i>, a sane voice spoke in her head. <br />
<br />
She began her descent and came upon a clearing. <br />
<br />
Then she saw him. <br />
<br />
He was of a diminutive height, small made. He was brown skinned with an angular face. He wore an embroidered shawl of red black and white over his right shoulder leaving his left shoulder bare. <br />
<br />
She ran towards him and began animatedly. ‘Oh thank god, you are here …’ <br />
She switched to Tamizh when he fixed her in a quizzical stare. <br />
But when he continued to stare at her in puzzlement, she broke of a twig and began drawing on the ground. She spoke the words slowly and gestured animatedly with both her hands. He nodded and pointed to a pathway through the trees. <br />
She drew money from her pocket and held it out to him. He slowly but firmly pushed her hand away. <br />
<br />
As she made her way down hill, sending up a silent prayer, she saw another man. <br />
<br />
He came up the stone path effortlessly, twirling a cane. He must have been in his thirties. Everything about him spelt style and fine taste, right from his khaki shorts, blue shirt to the Gucci sunglasses carelessly pushed back to his crown. An unlit cigarette dangled rakishly from a corner of his mouth. He waved at her and Venu waved back a little hesitantly. <br />
He came closer. <br />
<br />
'Are you part of that college expedition? She nodded smiling sheepishly. <br />
<br />
‘Hmm… That’s what I thought, when I saw you from a distance!’ <br />
<br />
He gave an easy laugh. <br />
<br />
‘What are you doing here all by yourself?’ <br />
<br />
‘ Oh, I am Sanjay, by the way’ <br />
<br />
He held out his hand. <br />
<br />
She shook it with her fingertips. <br />
<br />
‘I am a geologist … I am staying in the same resort.’ <br />
<br />
Venu merely nodded. <br />
<br />
He continued <br />
<br />
‘Are you lost or something? <br />
<br />
What are you doing with him?’ He gestured to the adivasi, who stood patiently during the exchange. <br />
<br />
‘Come with me. I could take you back. I can always come up here tomorrow. Twilight is almost upon us …’ he laughed again. <br />
<br />
Venu deliberated for a long moment. She cast a sidelong glance at the adivasi who waited patiently. <br />
<br />
‘No’ she began apologetically ‘I think I will go with him ... He has agreed to take me back and it would be impolite.’ <br />
<br />
He laughed. <br />
<br />
‘Don't be silly. I could give him some money and send him away… let me speak to him.’ <br />
<br />
She turned and blocked his path. She looked him firmly in the eye. 'It's alright. I'll go with him. I am pretty sure we will have plenty of occasions to meet later on…’ <br />
<br />
She signaled to her guide to lead her and followed him, head bent. <br />
<br />
The Noble Savage won the day.<br />
<br />
Image Source: 7-themes.comBhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8507125432415318888.post-75173629734699640802016-04-21T08:56:00.001-07:002017-12-27T00:59:12.270-08:00[Poem] I search<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Image by: HelgaMcL</div>
<br />
I search for him <br />
In smiles strange<br />
In hands extended -I search<br />
For the one touch <br />
<br />
Rummaging<br />
Through words that fall of alien lips<br />
<br />
Sifting through tones<br />
I search for The Voice <br />
<br />
In the light of a thousand eyes<br />
I scour<br />
For the look that delights <br />
<br />
In the gloom of the night<br />
When dreams walk free<br />
I hunt for reunion<br />
<br />
In slideshows of memories<br />
That collapse and rise<br />
In constant auto play <br />
I search<br />
<br />
Tears pry open<br />
Crumpled eyes<br />
Sluice gates<br />
Rise<br />
To release <br />
The misery<br />
Threatening to explode<br />
A tormented heart<br />
<br />
Loss teaches love<br />
Alas, when all is lost</div>
Bhuvaneshwari Shankarhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16877693904596578019noreply@blogger.com5