Comedian  par excellence ..a tribute

Comedy, more often enjoyed  by world all over, 

Laughter, the best medicine, an accepted fact,

Minutes of laughter, dose of endorphins in cover,

In release, brains work better, think better in fact

 

Tinsel world saw many a great comedian till date,

World thrilled by  such artists in abundance

 India too had, rich repertoire of persona in spate

South too has a huge collection in storing space.

 

Mollywood has a few, down the memory lane,   

One such septuagenarian ruled the roost,

His mannerisms, his slang  always an instant hit

 Many of his films, overshadowing the heroes too.

 

Rising from clutches of poverty, in his prime,

Had a meteoric rise, hidden talents in excess,

Volumes of humor, written all over his frame

Films of his, wore a testimony of his prowess

 

Cornered by the tentacles of cancer, yet he fought,

A testimony to the great fighting spirits within,  

Innocent, as his name suggests, bore a smiling face,

Amidst the dying spirit within, bowing to the destiny

 HEARTHS OF DEVOTION….HEARTHS OF EMOTION

 Lunar month of kumbham every year, buzzes with activity, 

God’s own capital , bursting with the Womenfolk in frenzy, 

Collecting dry palm leaves as fuels, for months, way ahead, 

Traffic freezes to a halt, cops have a hell of a time in the city. 

Women from all walks of life, unabatedly pour into the capital, 

Heaps of earthern pots spring in sizes, yet vanish in no time, 

Bricks almost lining the footpath for miles and miles in stretch. 

What’s this all about, the doubting tourist may ask for sure.

They offer pongal, tamil name for rice pudding, still in place, 

Pyre lit all over, reminds us one’s ego and jealousy in fire, 

Congregation reminds, communal harmony, dispelling hatred, 

Women’s pivotal role in the family and the society survives. 

A helpless little girl trapped in a river, sinking and pleading, 

An old man performing oblations in the river, rushed in haste, 

Child in turn, showed him a place and disappeared in a trice. 

The old man saw in his dream the girl in the goddess mold. 

A shrine in the site, little girl had pointed, was the mythology, 

Second one points the furious kannaki, burning the kingdom, 

For a wrongful murder of her husband, for theft of anklets. 

Later a pacified kannaki passed through the capital, for penance. 

As the rice gets cooked, sending them into shrieks of merriment, 

Hearth of emotion prevails as the hearth of devotion precedes 

Year long waits leads to an accomplished mode of achievement. 

Praying for many more attempts ,for the welfare of their family. 

Surpasses the records for an event of such nature, one wonders, 

Passing years, the counts be in ascendancy, an awe inspiring feat, 

Sends a message too, fire destroys thy evils, lust and greed, 

Same fire sends waves of ablutions to set thy family bonds tight

 

        WHAT A MICE EXPERIENCE !

Memories flashed, my childhood ruminating in repeats,

Days of  rented houses and the attached hollow attics,

Rent free quarters for the tiny rodents and the civets,

Creeping moves, the nightmares spoiling my dreams.

 

Pet cat saved their moves a bit, civets escaped forever,

Yet I had a bother, to bury their half eaten carcasses,

Concrete houses dissolved my problems thereafter,

Resurfaced, from a researching nephew from states,

 

Workaholic, spent more time with mice than his kids,

Specialized in kids, yet spent most of his time in labs,

Thrilled as he became the head, we too were joyous,

Fruits of his hard labor, his mood was beyond words.

 

Wondering  you may be, why all this, with a weird title,

Beaming with  his camaraderie on flight, he revealed,

His lab in his flight too with six dozens of mice in mettle,

Had a real shock, pinched my skin to revive me instead.

 

Rewriting the proverb, I was dumbfounded in disbelief,

One man’s poison, now another man’s food in surmise,

His bread and butter, dissecting them for a better relief,

Was despising my past childhood with those little mice.

 

 

A THUMPING LITTLE EXPERIENCE…

Our body, Oh! a machine with resounding horsepower,

Our every organ, small or big, its role cut to perfection.

Hands in use, singly or in unison countless times  daily,

Knew their anatomy, missed their emotional pathway.

 

Their ego, stirred up for wrong reasons one fine morn,

Keen to hear their  gossip, kept my ears close to them,

Big brother of them, Thumb, full of beans, all in pride,

Reasons to say so, short and stout, can look up even.

 

Moves in right angles than others majestically in style,

Makes an impact over others while shaking hands too.

Can caress the rest in grace, gaining  more plus points,

The other four fail, still unable to grace the thumb.   

 

Now the index finger fumes, differing in its opinion,

Longer and straight, always looking ahead helps many,

Guiding the way, pointing to things of interest, for help,

It claims handsomeness, often defied by the rest

 

Middle finger speaks, the taller of the lot, majestic too,

Bends freely, giving the hand the needed stability

Mingling  effortlessly with all, forms a strong unit,

Beaming in its  greatness, sighing in triumph ever .

 

The Ring finger now boasts, unique among them all.

Truly, named, a favorite adorned by men and women,

Gold, diamonds, platinum rings, indeed symbols of love,

Dazzling always from this singular noble bearer.

 

Nothing to flaunt, smallest and leanest of the group,

The Little finger lacks tall claims to boost its presence,

In reverse gear, the first to meet in greetings and prayers,

 It outscores all, a silent leader in reverence.

 

Amidst the ruffles of these small yet vital organs,

Notice those who lost their hands in trauma or defects,

United, they stand powerful, to lift or resist any force,

Divided, they falter, unable to serve when needed most.

 

 

CHILDHOOD DELIGHTS…..

          CALIFORNEAN  SIGHTS….

                                                                                                                                                             

Childhood memories, did ride again in my horizon,

Weekend pastimes, all with a beach time flourish,

Beach football, sand caves, sea shells top the list,

Kite fly against the fading sun adds up the cheers.

Planes were rare in  those days of yore, for sure,

Sole terminus near the beach frills, adds the thrills,

Kite flew high, soaring planes, the finishing touch,

Heart flutters , growing desires of a maiden flight.

 

Years flew steadfast, silently did ring the bell often

Shifting gears, overseas flight  gaining momentum.

Years of wait, bore the fruit, a call from California,

Foreign trip  eluded me for long, started in a flurry.

 

Maiden  trip  ecstatic, as always, set, ready and go,

Packed all and sundry, a beloved parent must carry,

Shelved out dollars, curry leaves shed a wry scare,

Early lessons overseas, what not to carry on board.

 

Sight otherwise wonderful, spring so exhilarating,

Roses so splendid, colors beyond a rainbow show,

Drosanthemums or the figs add flair to the rows,

Arrival of springs, add life to the dull winter lows,

 

Life in the garden, mood set my flower crazy spirit,

After five trips, my roses  eager to greet me again,

Few months of gardening bring life to those plants,

Sights and snaps trigger my sixth time visit again!

  

 

[TERMINAL II IS STILL NEAR SHANGUMUGHAM BEACH ,TRIVANDRUM ]

 

                                                                    

 

 

      BLINDSPOT..A SPOT TO BOTHER.

    Everyone in the world  knows,we have two eyes,

   They know what’s blindness and their miseries,

   Many of us ignorant of the blind spot in our eyes,

   An aged queried me the blind spot in normal eyes.

 

   The query bothered me much, not out of ignorance,

   How to convince with  my solid theoretical stance,

   The query, an oculist must have an answer for sure,

   Nothing to show, yet have to convince him forever.

 

   Explained optic nerves and their exit through the hole,

   Absence of receptors causing blind spots as a whole,

   Vacant look in his eyes, made me to stir up my neuron

   Queried, where we all go after our sojourn here in turn

 

    Pat came a reply, good one go to heaven, bad to hell,

    Politely I asked him where is that heaven or the hell,

    Where is the route ,I pleaded and queried him again,

    Caught unawares, he pointed his heart in silent vein.

 

    Without knowing where one goes, we live for years,

    Meet many, never know their blind spot or strength,

    Despise some for same reasons, live for a short life,

    Blind spot of eye and life, we both spotless in doubts

   

  

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

NATURE AND TEACHER’S DAY

 

You implant a seed under the soil in eagerly wait,

Tiny pair of leaves oft sprout in delight and glee,

Stands upright, indeed it sways in sprightly gait,

Growing tall always, eyeing the nature in spree.

 

Mother earth aids its life, to stay on the ground,

Supports to grow straight, remains undercover,

Honeymoon over, seeks help from the surround,

Aiming high, to become healthier and stouter.

 

Child in womb, here in study with this tiny plant,

Mother gives it everything, to stand for its future,

Learning the skills with stutter, to stand upright,

Guided by care and will, he grows in stature.

 

Teacher steps in imparts more skills in zoom,

Oft guides to show him,  gain name and fame,

Models him to glow and excel, indeed to bloom,

Yet  remains unseen, never coming in the frame