As a rose blooms
On a dewy morning,
Unfurling pearlesque petals
In unhurried fashion,
Eliana Rose woke up
On her Birthday,
Smiled ethereally
At her new beginning,
Welcoming all the best
That is to be her tomorrows.
Birthday Greeting
3
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Fall Myriad
I felt the delicious nip
Of Fall’s breeze
On my nosetips, eyelashes, and cheeks
And blissfully savored
The tawny gold season.
Around me fell the leaves
Like butterflies winging down
Never to rise again.
The aureate and ochre fluttering
Of maple, birch and oak leaves
Screned me in an alcove
Of Mattisse Odalisque.
Squirrels skittered with mouths
Bulging with acorns;
Rabbits ran helter-skelter;
Flowers died and dried
And their stalks withered.
The trees stood divested
And exposed the empty nests
Left vacant by birds who migrate
At winter’s imminent arrival.
Life dwindled away
And I waited
In dormant thoughts
For the next regeneration.
Color
I was green
When I thought
That color was a feature.
I looked in the mirror
And I saw me described.
When did color become
What I am?
When did color become
Who I am?
When I was plucked
From my pilgrimage group
While leaving Baggage Claim
With ominous words, ‘You are going home”
And “Your people are waiting for you”.
I was sent to unknown parts of the airport.
And I learned painfully
That my color did not match my group
And I did not “belong”.
My “Global Entry” did not count;
Appeals from my group did not count
To the official of no color.
Lost in the Newark airport,
Without a clue of the EXIT,
I was saved
By the kindness
Of a person of color.*
* Incident on October 15,2019
Wayside Flowers
So many glittering stars,
So many enticing flowers,
So many enthralling views,
So many eventful days,
So many outstanding deeds
By so many illustrious people!
Yet, unobserved we stayed
On the outside – the onlookers.
Wars broke out, treaties were signed,
Skyscrapers were raised, discoveries were made,
Heroics were dared, and Space was straddled. ,
But the planet is rushing to doomsday
But, we stood on the wayside
Unable to stop the life threatening causes
Of air, water, and elements,
Unable to act,
Unable to change
The status quo of existential demise.
So, we remain the wayside flowers,
Merely existing for the day.
The Agony and The Ecstasy of Elijah
At the Baldwin keyboard, he sat
Picking at the keys for his scale,
Trying the notes with aplomb
To be stopped midstream
At the discordance of a wrong note.
He started again with nonchalance
And almost reached the lowest note
When a false note crept in.
He was so sure that he had it right,
That it was agonizing for Elijah
To see the bubble burst
And to drown himself into despair.
Never to be beaten,
He started again and again.
With frustration mounting to a peak,
Then, started the ‘G’ scale
And stayed the course
Every note keeping the metronomic beat,
Every note ascending without flaw,
And the descending scale meticulous.
Elijah lifted his fingers from the keys
And smiled with beatific ecstasy.
The Prodigal’s Starry Night
In the inky backdrop,
The stars sprinkled and shimmered.
From the open hayfields,
The narcissist watched the scintillation
And failed to see the Hand
That wrought them all.
But, alas, in the eager search
For the urban fleshpots,
He left the rural land
And squandered his self and worth
As nights of revelry spilled into dawns;
Bleary-eyed and unfocused,
He did not see the starry night
In the never-sleeping city lights.
There were no stars for him
In the midnight skies.
The man-made lamps and lanterns
Faked light and shrouded starlight,
He failed again to see the Hand
That made the stars for all.
Beaten and downcast,
Totally spent, he left the city-
Bedraggled and beggarly-
In tattered rags, his hesitant steps
Carried him to his father’s gate in the country.
Doubtful of welcome and greeting,
He yearned at least for a meal.
Yet father, waiting for the son-bereft of hope-
Saw his child through tears
And recognized the child who came back.
With quickened steps and outstretched arms,
He ran out and hugged
His emaciated child in dirt and rags
And wept tears of joy
At the return of one who was deemed dead.
The fatted calf was killed
And mourning turned festive
When guests lolled in abandon.
The Prodigal walked into the open
And gazed at the shimmering starry night.
He saw the Hand that made them all!
Cotton Candy World
In the woolly soft world,
The innocent babe curled,
With dreams unfurled
And with rainbows circled
In slumber unhindered.
No harsh words
And no hard swords
Can wound this child.
She stays unblemished!
Woe befall
The male or female
Who dares to crush
The cotton candy world
Of all babes in creche.
A Food I long for
One food I wish to have I will never have now that its creator is no more. My Mother had a delicious preparation of pearl spot fish or chromide. I did not pay attention in those days to anything in a kitchen. But the taste of this dish always lingers.
Unfortunately, I do not know the recipe. That is written in my mother’s brain and taste buds. It is known as “karimeen pollichchathu”. The seasoning is a blend of onion, garlic, ginger, green chilies, coconut milk, vinegar and salt. Something else must be there too. All these are added at different stages of sauteeing in coconut oil. The mixture covers the scaled and cleaned fish and the whole thing is wrapped around by banana leaf and cooked gently in an earthenware pan. It has a mothwatering aroma. Eating this is a hedonistic experience. But one has to be careful in eating this because there are many bones. We ate this with fingers to remove the bones. It goes well with rice and other Kerala vegetable dishes.
Meaning of Life
Life is a gift. There is meaning to this gift of life only when it is reciprocated. Our lives create meaning when they benefit others. Big or small, the benefits carry meaning. For example, parents nurture the young and the young become caregivers of the old. The true teacher inspires learning that creates and transforms people to lead meaningful lives. The scientists and technologists discover and invent to improve human lives. The artists and architects bring aesthetic meanings around us while musicians create melodies to bring rhythmic meaning into daily lives. Above all, goodness envelopes us whether talented or untalented by the sheer sweetness that makes every life worth living. Finally, we give back to life when we protect the earth not only for us, but for the future generations. Thus we make the meaning of life complete.
We live in the world, among living people. The meaning of life then is focussed on giving. In every walk of life, there are givers and receivers. Shakespeare’s words about mercy can be applied in this context,
“The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:”
Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene I
Winter Haiku
Winter’s frigid ice
On the crystal star
Reflects cold light spears.
Sharp are the angles
Of the hard and wayward heart,
Wntry like ice freeze.
Numb with cold, pain’s gone;
Freezing cold wraps around wounds,
Living held at bay.
Winter landscape shrouded;
Snow drifts drew patterns in swirls
Of winter language.
Snowfalls hid tree barks;
Starving squirrels and deer gnawed,
Digging below snow.
A pallid full moon
Silvered exposed green slivers,
Shadow conifers.
Snow layers lifted
In the wake of warm spring breeze
To bid “Goodbye Winter”!
RosyView 