Balachandran

How I love to say your name,
Rolling waves over my tongue,
It is must be said out loud
Two or three times to feel its rhythm,
Two or three more just for the
Spiced pleasure it conveys.
Bala chan dran!

My name harsh, Germanic,
Like the Black Forest,
Where my ancestors dwelled,
Until a harsher people drove them away.

Balachandran!

Under the ground beneath the temple
Padmanabha Swamy,
A temple dedicated to
Vishnu,
In the state of
Kerala,
the original spice country.
South Western sea board of India,
where miracles never cease to happen,
A billion dollar treasure discovered.

A treasure of words and sounds,
A language musical, every word a poem
Of incroyable elegance.

I am so glad that you were not born in France.

Perhaps someday I will courage summon,
To spicy lands, explore, and even come to
Thiruvananthapuram.

For now, I must be satisfied with the
Poetical musicale program I attend,
When I say over and over again,
**Balachandran from Thiruvananthapuram!