Thursday, June 27, 2013

Crescendo!


siblings of  fine rains
Are dandy crescendo, diminuendo.
Rains ha! Ambrosia..

Intermittent rains
In monsoon plunge with vibration. 
Crescendo, vibrato for ears. 

People in deep sleep under
verge on monsoon days feel happy.
 Alas! alarm perturbs calm..

Song sung in Crescendo,
Diminuendo, right  charms your heart.
 Aha! How heart-winning. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Where Has He Reached?

file000884219889  For writetribe http://mrg.bz/LsH3I1

“What has happened to me?O! God, I never expected all these” thought Rajesh in deep agony.He had recovered a little bit from the anguish  that the incident had created in his mind .He took to talking to an intimate friend ,first time after the incident. His  tears  refused to stay in the glands.He sat there covering the countenance with his hand that held the phone.As his ears caught the stamping sound of  shoes he lifted his face.To his gloomy dismay  he noticed two policemen in front of him.

 If it is cited in Shakespearean superlative, we can say  the ‘most worst’ phase he was facing in his life.

Anuja was his friend Navin’s sister. She was a degree student. Many an occasion Rajesh happened to meet her, since he was a frequent visitor in Navin’s abode. His visit  when experienced  nonattendance of his friend, the latter's mother or Anuja informed him when he would return home and all. He was enjoying the approval of his friendship with Navin from those two persons in that house.

His interaction with Anuja was purely natural. He had nothing special in his mind, whenever he talked to Anuja. But she slowly-slowly initiated some untoward indications. Rajesh smelt something  fishy and therefore he tried his maximum level to get her retrieved. But  nothing could alter her move  an inch even.

 He belonged to a family that barely met both the ends with the scanty revenue of his. And that made him keep his wedding in pending. He was  merely a Govt. servant of lower grades.  And she belonged to an affluent family of the vicinity. The members of the family enjoyed a special space in the society. Her father was a rigid disciplinarian who was hesitant nil to go to any extent  to get his back. Unlike the father both the mother and daughter housed a fine heart in their physique.

Even though he was sapient enough to choose between the right and the wrong,  somehow his passion had won over his reason. And eventually Rajesh fell or rather he had to fall for her craving.After all he was a homo sapien  with all sorts of feelings inbuilt in a common man. 

 And Rajesh and Anuja created situations to meet at home and outside blind-folding their kith and kin. They sat together among bushes and exchanged views and visions. They walked in company of each other. They spent hours in hush looking at each other’s eyes. The land and field were filled with thrill gazing at their gait holding hand in hand. They even increased the income of film-theatres. Yes, they were born as one  for the other.

Completion of her graduation accelerated the driving from parents’ part through nuptial path.A point was arrived at when she had to disclose her courtship. Anuja’s father burned and turned crimson with ire. The pecuniary status and age gap stood as villains between the two families. Anuja’s father and even Navin bathed Rajesh with unparliamentary  words.

Under the persuasions  and intimidation of Anuja, Rajesh consented to exchange nuptial garlands  in a famous temple. With full gratification they started their couple-life in a small hired-refuge, close to his parenthood. Rajesh’s parents always stood by him. But his mind always carried  a forlorn mass, as his better-half had descended from a castle to a cottage. He felt that he should have been in command of the scruples.

 But they were joyous in their little way and found satiety in their simple life. Even though Anuja’s parents had disowned her, some help from her mother’s side brought cash and kind to their dwelling.

Days and months cleared the way for a year. Anuja whispered in Rajesh’s mind that a  beloved V.V.I.P was going to enter into their house to share their bliss and pleasure. March stepped into April which turned Rajesh terribly busy with certain fiscal accounts in the office. By the time Rajesh arrived at the residence Anuja was in the labour-room of the hospital, nearby.

Anuja had to bear the pain for hours together and finally a cute baby-girl turned Anuja a mother. The infant spread the perfume of profound delight  in that house. But the happiness  was too short when Anuja with her beloved little one in the hand stumbled down by slipping in the water that lay on the floor. Anuja fainted on the spot. Nothing had happened to the little one. Things worsened beyond imagination. Despite all genera of genial attempts by the hospital authorities she had to gape at her last gasp.

After the procedures of funeral Rajesh sat there thinking deep, sinking his visage in his hands. “O! God, why have you seized  my  half from me? She was my heart and she was the lamp shedding glow in this house. Why didn’t you take our child and me also,” lamented Rajesh heart-broken. The baby  who was crying for milk made every person’s eyes wet.

Without taking a morsel of food or drinking a handful of water Rajesh mourned the demise for a couple of days. However he pulled on a few more days of mourning, with his kin’s assistance.When his child pricked his conscience ,he rose up to reality.

Then all of a sudden one day, loomed  before him two police men and hand-cuffed him.  “Why,what is the matter? I didn't do any wrong.”

“Your wife’s death was dowry-based. It was a cold-blooded murder. We have ample evidence.You pushed her with the intention of finishing her.Expecting a huge dowry from her parents, you trapped her. Your father-in law has produced the evidence. You are taken into our custody. Come with us.”

The people present there alarmed in astonishment, as everybody was fully aware of  the couple’s  jolly life. His father-in-law was an avenger as he believed or made himself believe that his daughter deserted him only because of  Rajesh, the fraud. So he designed all those pictures. He  got on to the step of  snatching the kid from Rajesh’s old mother and vacated himself from there.

Rajesh lost all his energy and spirit and he moved to the jail just as a puppet without any resistance.  “O! God where have I reached? Why is this ordeal with me. Are you testing me? What  sin have I committed?  I am not at all guilty! I am not at wrong. I cannot do anything to my heart-throb.” He was unloading all his melancholy through his words.

The youths of the village assembled in the village recreation hall  and swore to rescue the innocent Rajesh at any cost. “We all know that “No sin goes unpunished”. And what about the virtues?Shouldn't they be rewarded? We should fight for the truth. The truth should triumph. Satyameva Jayate”.

They visited and solaced him with all support

sarala



Thursday, June 20, 2013

Enigma


Hand-shake

Sky and sea shake hands.
Sun sneaks a look furtively, an
Enigma of insinuation.
.

River

Infant River runs to
Mother the Deep, in elation.
Does Sea cuddle child gaily?


Tune

Melodious tune
Sweetly gushes to fill heart.
Does ‘pop’ do the same?

sarala



Friday, June 14, 2013

Ripples


Cool gentle wind ripples and
Announces advent of  winter.
Beings hibernate.

Little hands are lively
In rippling cold rain water, gaining fun.
Mother clasps laughter-gales.

Mind turns calm and cool.
Worries scurry when undulation
Of  water captures sight.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Chivalry



Sheer shiver conquers
Chivalrous Arjuna, in field.
Krishna fills courage.

Chivalrous you are.
But helpless and hapless in
Natural disaster.

sarala

 For http://haiku-heights.blogspot.in/sarala


Monday, June 10, 2013

Why I Write


‘Why I write …’I t is a relevant subject with an irrelevant response.

It happened years back when I was a primary class novice. I was alone at my grand-parents’ house. It was a far-flung village from cities or towns. So the remoteness of the domicile from the fellow-houses set me aside in solitude. And I exhausted my vacant time by twisting clockwise and anti-clockwise on the swing tied on a jack tree for mollifying me.

Arrival and departure for the school was sometimes performed unaccompanied. But sometimes I could be in the band of friends from the locality-though they were from  far-off. We used to tie the  tapering end of the wood apple trees’ believing that we could free ourselves from teachers’ chastisement. We, while treading to the school and retrieving from there plucked or picked-up wild fruits like lantana(veliparathy), Kottakka, bullet fruit  etc .The processes of chewing and chatting attained momentum till each one got disbanded from the lot.

 But home dipped me in lonesomeness and that led me slip into self games and dreams sporadically. Isolation taught my mind to intrude into incidents around and correlate  them in turn the incidents to adjoining experiences. Sympathy and empathy reigned my thought processes. And I garnished things sometimes in my own ways. I think such a circumstance facilitated me a tad in what I did later.

One day my maternal uncle fetched me a book. It  was of ‘ Panchtantra’  stories in Malayalam. Since I possessed no habit of reading books till then, I left it on the bed after turning a few leaves aimlessly. Besides us and the domestic helps the occurrence of one more person i.e. my uncle had added vim to my activities. The uncle who was employed in Madras, took leave of our residence on expiry of  his one month’s leave.

The next day turned more or less dry because my little mind craved for someone or something to give me company. My thoughts passed through some unexplainable on indefinable experiences. And somewhere an ache developed. Then the book crawled slowly to my hand which in turn unfurled it random. And my sight surveyed the verso of the book. Slowly some curiosity crept to my mind which piloted me to the recto and  the other pages also. Within a couple of days I accomplished my journey through all the folios and I yearned for further reading. When  my uncle was informed about my in-thing in books, he ensured that some books of tales befitting my age reach me. He made use of the postal services as well as comrade’s assistance to serve the purpose.

Two-three calendars disappeared from the veranda’s wall and new ones loomed in place of them. My routines travelled along with me, when my name moved to higher classes. That time I was reading in class 6th. My mind strolled through imaginations as usual. One day I went to the extent of tearing a leaf from a rough book and inked what was borne in my mind. My first creative work was born there. One of my friends  happened to see the manuscript  that had fallen down from the Mathematics text-book. She put  the thing on view to the teacher as natural of a ten-year- old lass. I shrunk into scare and shame judging that I had committed an unpardonable blunter.
“Where did you copy it from?” the teacher said.
“ I…I..wr..o.. te  myself like that. I won’t repeat it,” fumbled me.
The teacher warmly caressed me and publicized the imagery in the class.

And that was indeed an appealing gift to me. My endeavor was not frequent though, at times I vomited my thoughts to paper in the form of stories, odes, articles etc .Never initiated any measures of saving them in prints. And now I am not in possession of those days’ fancying. Though a few of my friends encouraged me to publish, being fully conversant of their shallowness in shape and form I did not stretch my appendages forward for such an adventure.

And now the very blog space loomed before me as a boon. Whatever falls on the monitor from my mind catch the attention of similar or high level minds of indiscernible people. I don’t know if sense or nonsense is embedded in them.

The interrogation ‘Why I Write!’ quite a number of times has raised its head before me. I tangled my head thinking and thinking and yet I couldn’t arrive at an apparent way to reciprocate. I don’t know why I write, but I want to write and hence I will. Still I’ll say…..because

Why I Write!

I write because I want to
And if I don’t, for me, who will?
When I write letters and words
My agony and anguish
My pleasure and bliss
My ecstasy and enthusiasm,
And all that acquire the figure
As sentences and lines many.

The mirror, my writing ,reflects
 My exactness and correctness
 My feelings and imagination
And my ambition and aspiration.
Writing engenders to decant
The sediments of my heart
Enlighten the mind
Enrapture and enrich the soul.

Writing is a true photograph
Clicked on my thought process.
The photos may be blurred
And may become clear and genuine.
Writing is my comrade in isolation
And it is the guide in desperation.
Writing is the help in exigency
And  the employee in time’s vacancy.

Writing energises the sluggishness
And it gathers the scattered thoughts.
Writing inflates the horizon of imagery
And  awakes the heart when lazy.
The writer’s feelings flow down
Even if he is at frown
The writer’s mood is  poignant
Yet it makes him  efficient.



'Words are wise men's counters'.

Sarala

.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Moral!



Despite your ingratitude
 Trees shade and provide fruit sweet.
You fell them cruelly.

He who boasts a lot
Of  morality has loose moral.
"Barking dog seldom bites".

Fear of God prevents
You from immoral  behavior.
You become a mogul.

 Moral sense bejewels one’s
Manners like diamonds in chains.
It shines like full moon.


For haiku-heights

shttp://haiku-heights.blogspot.in/arala

Thursday, June 6, 2013

In Motion and Action


                                                                                                                                                             
In motion and action he lingered,
Busily moving hither-thither,
Dancing, bouncing and jumping fast
On stagnant water not so filthy
That reflected the light very mild
After a shower, intense much.

 Stooping the body and smelling the soil,
 He lifted the visage sluggishly sure
With slush on it and mud in palm
 Burst out into high profile laughter.
 Swaying swiftly the hands to clap
 He furnished around blissful delight.

Then ogling at the butterflies
That  practiced in flight high-long jump
In their search of flowers’ nectar,
Posture of an athlete, he bore
To compete with them in touching trial
With squashy, spongy, softy hands.

Butterflies the pretty ones,
Wearing designer dress,black and red
With yellow prints on peripheral side
Played some jokes with the two-year-old.
 The toddler tiny to have them in hand
Ran and skipped  and slipped and fell down.

Aha! There floated a flower in water
 In company with a leaf of dry look.
With no notice of the hurt he got and
With all the means of  rapidity he
Hurried to attain the velocity same
And obtain them in the flimsy hands.

Succeeding seldom in attempt to catch,
As the flies bade good-bye to him,
His frail and fragile tender legs
Caring nil the difficulty he had
Waded through the weeds very small
And picked the bloom and leaf with waft.


Passed he to all an endearing smirk
With the flower and leaf in little hands.
He kissed the blossom lovingly much
Though it lay in dirt and smirch.
Detaching petals to throw in water
He spread his merriment all around.

 Splashing, douching and sprinkling water
With his limbs both upper and lower
He enjoyed and cheered heartily there
By shouting, screeching, howling and yelling.
 Circles and circles in water he drew
By merrily picking and pelting stones.

Though a sudden small stream of urine
Gushed and flowed through his  limbs lower,
Noticing it he nil at all, went on busily
Playing with mates.
Displaying fully his milk teeth four
He gave a winning grin to all.

Alas! Him, reached his mother’s feet
And her hands under duress and force
Snatched him from his lovely area
Despite all his protest and objection.
Ho! It ended in a whining snivel
 Followed by a rhythmic sobbing.

sarala.

We had a trip to an amusement park. Mother Nature was kind enough to spray the shower of joy on her daughter earth and her flora-fauna issues. Leaving  a weeny toddler with his grandma, his parents performed the art of swimming in water. Giving full liberty to the tot, the granny interestingly watched the innocent’s activities. The sodden spot was water logged here and there, somewhere clear and somewhere grimy. All the onlookers turned to him, eyed the scene and rejoiced at it.