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

 

A VISIONARY WITH A MISSION

Every human being under the sun is born with a heart,

Beating day in and day out, only to serve his own life,

Nobility is the one that does beat for others heart,

Young or old, men or women who ail and in strife.

 

First batch of doctors, streaming out from the capital, 

Surgical skills learnt from books and a foreign mission,

Forfeited foreign research, craving for the mother land,

He is one such, the result, a pioneer cardiac surgeon.

 

Godfather, wasn’t he, for the renowned cardiac center,

Yearning so long, for one such in the state capital,

His peerless research, a dozen years of hard work,

For an Indigenous cardiac valve for the poor, so vital.

 

An apostle for low cost valves for the poor masses,

Painstaking efforts, bore the fruits, a famous deed,

A dedication indeed, for the patients in distress,

Thousands of  hearts, now beating with glee indeed.

 

Vascular grafts, infusion bags are his innovative best,

Lived for the common man to serve the very best,

Ventured in alien system of medicine with interest,

Ayurveda  blessed with his vision, in  true earnest

 

A king, engineered surgical skills for the impoverished,   

Strode as a colossus shining brightly in cardiac horizon,

Padma Awards adds  the crowns to the great visionary,

A Nonagenarian heart finally decided to beat its last.

 

His entire life in short, is an institution with a mission,

Eternal lesson, skills and science can combine to excel,

Leaving this world with footprints in the sands of time,

To follow and nurture them for a healthy tomorrow.

                      

 

                SCALPEL…Not just an instrument                  

   

DR CHERIAN .. A TRIBUTE                       

The king of human hearts, will reign in many a heart,

Many hearts beating soundly, thanks to his mastery,

Scalpel  he held, saved  more lives around the globe,

Colossus  amongst cardiac surgeon, finally bid adieu.

 

Pioneer  in heart surgery ,matchless for five decades,

Many feathers don his cap, countless hearts will agree,

Maiden coronary bye pass, first heart lung transplant ,

Countless hours on surgical table, for an ailing heart.

 

Mastered ,tutored countless  neophyte surgeons till date,

Doyen of many a cardiac care centers home and abroad,

“The Hand Of God” for many ailing tiny hearts all around,

An institution by himself, selfless, a legacy unmatched.

 

Such lives, any pen can’t  do full justice  to his sacrifice,

Nor a novice poet  with medical degree can attempt  a say,

Yet any human with a heart, will weep over  his demise,

His name will linger  forever, the best  tribute we can pray.

 

P.S  “Just an instrument ”..the name of his autobiography

                                                                   

 

 

MELLIFLOUS MAESTRO

 An elegy on P. Jayachandran

                 
            A TRIBUTE..

Music, a mountain amidst an ocean, a tough task in hand,

Cross the ocean, to reach the summit, a monumental feat,

Millions tried, many a few  achieved the task with glory,

Many  even swim across, climbing to the summit, a wonder.

 

Singers  stamp memorable moments as they leave the stage,

Music has no borders, so its limits, has depths and heights,

We, the mortals  drown deep in their ocean of performances,

Watch and hear them in awe, keep them in memory forever.

 

One such breathed his last, impoverishing the tinsel world,

Early lessons untraditional,  voice  masculine and mellifluous,

Never to miss the ears, so influential, indeed  reverberates.

Filmdom rich with his feats, the fans grew fast in millions

 

Art is long, life is short, as the saying goes, the feats remain,

Mortal remains may leave, his voice will remain forever,

Singers may come, singers leave the stage, the  law of nature,

This divine voice will reverberate oft in our ears forever.

 

We pray for  extension of  his  stint of music for more years,

His songs may become old, yet they have become immortal,

The more we hear. the more we mourn his  continued legacy,

Pray he ‘ll sing again in heaven, we may hear them one day.

 

A TOWER-ING EXPERIENCE

             

   

Memories flashed upon my inward eye, yet again,

Sight of this giant species, indeed a spectacle,

Anytime, anywhere, breathtaking, never  in refrain,

For a sexagenarian, it remains still a receptacle.

                                          

The stimulus, a report, about these moving towers,

The giraffe paradox, my batch mates’  reference,

This ignition, fueling the tiring weekends’ powers,

 A comparison  with human heart  in preference.

 

We feel, ignorance is bliss, even worse, this reveals,

Dwarfed  at times, aren’t we!, many  a time every day,

Many a thing we see, yet we never bother the scales,

So, giraffe will detail his vital statistics to our dismay.

                                     

The tallest mammal on land, Oh! thrice your height,

Two hundred stones and heavier than my fair lady,

Neck, my supreme organ, two feet long serves right,

Nuchal thrust aids my feast, leaves falling as prey .

                             

Purplish prehensile tongue, imparting  powerful ways,

Leaves helping me instead, giving me the hydration,

Few sips here and there quenches my thirst, for days,

Long neck helping the natural pollens dissemination,

 

Heart, my power horse, pumps one liter every second,

Ten times your own heart’s power, indeed  a miracle,

The jugulars with valves prevent a vascular rebound,

The rete mirabile  stalls the fluctuant cerebral debacle. 

 

TOUCHING THE LIVES WHILE TOUCHING THE MOON.

      on india’s FIRST SPACE DAY…    

  

 CHANDRAYAN  III                            

Sky, the space we  look at,  either as  a kid or as an elderly,

Sun or the clouds dark or blue, or the moon and the stars,

An area of thrill and mystery hidden or probed endlessly,

Moon, the much sought after  in lullabies or in film songs.

Amstrong and Aldrin, crowned its face with  eternal glory,

Proving the world, moon is not out of reach or research,

Moon, oft yearned  for our adventure in space research,

We became the fourth nation to kiss the moon’s  surface.

 Chandrayan I launched an attempt towards lunar venture

Such expeditions  carry bad memories,  it’s a nature’s kick,

Maiden attempt, a flop, launched the second adventure,

Improving  to reach glory, a sportsman will vouch for sure.

 Third was launched, correcting the flaws, with more zest,

Chandrayan III, with its Vikram lander and Pragyan rover,

Were the first to kiss the south pole, yet it’s going strong

Crowning our space adventures and the brave astronauts.

 We never stop here, we aim high, leap for solar research,

Aditya-L1  launched with pride last year and with purpose,

Solar surface, solar storm  effects on earth  under study,

Gaganyaan, more to follow, we are soaring high in space.

 

 

VANDE BHARATH THOUGHTS

      
                                                                            

Every travel brings joy for a kid, away from home,

Me, no exception, eagerly in wait for the summer,

Six decades in rewound,  memories lived longer.

Free from the final exams, awaiting  a long holiday,

 

An exciting mode of transport, then for every child,

Inspiring any ten year old to enjoy the fun and thrills

Journey by train hit the mind, in those days of yore

Parents were away, my annual travel sure  with frills.

 

As we leave those fine holidays, with heavy hearts,

The thoughts of next school year looming large,

The days of the return journey drawing closer,

In no mood for my return and to leave the parents.

 

Querying my worrying mind, my father doubted,

Usual tantrums, he did find out and consoled me,

Told him of a toy train as the only gift, I cherished,

Till date as a boy, I had never asked him for gifts,

 

The next day, he gave him a big gift, to my surprise,

Toy train with two bogies on the circular track,

My joy knew no bounds, I was jumping all round,

Forgot the holidays, played with it till my return.

 

This spurred to write a poem, after a long sixty years

Again a surprise, I had travelled by train many a time,

Cherishing a travel by Vande Bharat, since its inception,

Longing an opportune moment, to enjoy with some one.

 

The moment came at last, a travel with my batch mates,

Two dozens and more of our batch stretched their hands

A tour filled with frolic and fun, an unforgettable tour,

Shared  the aged group enjoying the arduous journey.

 

Speed thrills, wished to travel for long, in the fastest mode,

Bullet trains, films, haunted my thoughts for long since then,

Watched with awe, as the screen showed hundred plus speed,

In an ecstatic mood throughout the travel, longing for more.