When I was a little boy, say when I was six, my dad calls to me and he says: Come, boy – let’s sit in our courtyard; let’s sit below the stars and I’ll tell you a story. It’s been told long in our village, and passed on from wise fathers to growing sons.

Long ago, goes the story
Farmer Somu wanted
his daughter Meena to marry
the Strongest in the world
and so he set out on a journey
with his daughter
to seek the World’s Strongest One

And what were they going to do, little boy? says my father to me. They are going to look for the Strongest One, I say; and my father says: Ah, you clever son of a clever man.

And when they walked
past the rice fields
they saw farmers
wiping their brows
and they said:
‘My, how strong the sun shines!’

‘Aha,’ said Somu, ‘I think
I’ve found the Strongest One.
Come, Meena,’ he said,
‘let’s talk to the Sun.’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu asked the Sun?
And I say to my father: Oh Sun, Will you marry my daughter? And my father says, excitedly: Exactly! Exactly! Oh , you brilliant son of a brilliant man.

‘Oh Sun,
will you marry
my daughter
for she is the Prettiest
and you are the Strongest?’

‘But,’ said the Sun,
‘the cloud is stronger than I
for have you not noticed
how often the cloud
blocks me out
and I can’t do a thing
until he decides to move?’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think Somu replied to the Sun?
Oh, you weakling Sun – I’m not even talking to you! comes my quick reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!

‘Weakling Sun
stand out of my way
and Oh you most powerful cloud –
will you marry my daughter
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest?’

And the Cloud replied:
‘But ah, I am not the Strongest
for the wind just blows me away!’

And what do you think, my clever boy, what do you think Somu did next? And I answer my dad: Well, dad - Farmer Somu drags his daughter Meena to the Wind. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you brilliant son of a brilliant man!

‘O Wind
you should marry
Meena who is Prettiest
in the world
as you are the Strongest.’

But the Wind replied:
‘Ah, you don’t know how Strong
the mountain is
for he blocks my way
and he breaks me down.’

And what do you think, my little boy, what do you think was Somu’s reply to the Wind?
Oh, you useless Wind – I’m ashamed I even considered you! I reply. And my father says: Oh how right you are – you clever son of a clever man!

‘Oh, you useless Wind
– I’m ashamed
I even considered you!’
said Farmer Somu
and he dragged his daughter along
to meet the mountain
and he said to the mountain:
‘Most Honored Mountain
I have heard of your strength
and so I have brought you Meena
who is the Prettiest.’

But the Mounatin replied:
‘Oh Sir, I am not deserving
of such a rare beauty
for the rat gnaws holes in my sides
and so is Stronger than I.’

And what do you think, dear son, says my father to me – what do you think Somu does next? And I reply quite impatiently: Somu takes his daughter to the rat? Exactly! Exactly! shouts my dad. Exactly, you brainy son of a brainy man!

And the Rat told Somu:
‘Alas, Sir
though your daughter
is most desirable
I cannot marry her
for the hyena is
far stronger than me
for he has eaten many of my family!’

And so they walk to the hyena, says my father to me. And what do you think Somu tells the hyena? And I reply: Oh hyena – marry my daughter for she is Prettiest and you are Strongest! And my father says: Oh you are right, boy! You are right – Oh you brilliant son of a brilliant man!

‘Sir Hyena
Most Revered Sir Hyena
do marry Meena
for she is Prettiest
and you the Strongest!’

And Sir hyena replied:
‘Ok. I ask for no dowry
just leave her with me
with no ceremony.’

And what do you think , asks my father, Somu did? And I reply: He left Meena with the hyena. And my father shouts excitedly: Oh, how right you are! How right you are! You clever child of a clever man.





And no sooner had Somu left
the hyena took Meena
to his cave
and he ate her all
skin and bone…
Ah what a tragic end;
what a horrid end…

And dear son, says my father to me, what is the moral of this story? Many, I say. But two are: Use your wits and stay alive. Never allow yourself to be dragged around. And my father jumps up and he is excited: Oh how right! How right! You brilliant son of a brilliant father!
And he turns to my mother who has joined us at the courtyard and he says:
See how clever our son is – he knows all the answers! Such a brilliant son of a brilliant father!

And my mother’s retort is swift: It’s not that he’s brilliant or you either. You’ve told him this story a hundred times, you silly man! And it’s always the same words! And I would have kicked my father if I were Meena!

I could tell you,
But you’d laugh at me.
Because it is bare, raw and pure.
You gloat on the preservatives.
You discard the genuine.
Listen to me, my friend, there is a part of the world, where even a bulb is never, ever, witnessed in real, but reel of the sanskrit Cartoon slots. The peppy  and ‘lone B-grade Cartoons .
Filled with Flesh.
The stories of tantric mantras, with a sliver of diminishing hearth,
on the
Dimensions and depth of the Yoni in the resin of shellac
on the Immaculate ceremony,
In a woodpecker hole just underneath the sealed power of the Yakshini who truly screws it up if you have taste of her once.
the one who harbingers drunk loners of Kavadiyattom alley after 3:20 am.
She takes them to the crown chakra of palm trees.
Shows them the world.
she pushes them off the crown and the falcon falls in endless spirals of a inhuman push that pushes the concrete innards to a danlgling mass of amoebic copulation.
Breath comes back.
It is a big nauseating gag of Kumbhakarnan's long sadya that lasted for half a decade.
Of the soma saras that made the entire India go, ga-ga and believe they've seen the god.
But not one nor any saw the same face, colour, shape or even vibe of the god they had seen alone.
They agreed in unison that all their hallucinations of beautiful humans in Flower UFO s and high-tech cloning, were a vital hair in the nostril of the cosmos.
They made, each a god out of their genuine mix of memories.
Or in the, priest's ways,
Hence, the 2.3 Billion populous of the country had the same, well, odd Spiritual benefactors.

Keeping it all aside, lemme be honest, I'd follow many a fairy god-mother but give my milkey teeny tooth to the special one.
Hinduism tells you God is omnipresent.
Hinduism tells you God is within you.
It also says, there is no God.
The clipper to snap off the confusion of this, lies in the same cheap stained-yellow cliche of love. It entails everything. You, me, animals, plants, cosmos, vibes, thoughts, dreams and the universe.
It tells you to live with your body mind and soul.
From Kamasutras that teaches sense.
The excitement, control and breakthrough of it.
Like tao did under his exposed roof without the sacred dung of from Hindu Land.
This is the secret of a rumoured Mohini,
Of her 1000 per hour ******* during the her/ his/ its 352 incarnations.
which was the reason for Big bang.  
Amidst the sultry scant of the voluptuous *******,
Their skin,
a vernacular reflection of a dusk on the Japanese gold beaches, And the mounts,
firm and glowing with the rusty shade of pharaoh’s Gold anklet.
The gooey glaze of yesterday’s glamour in the wink of a gay galore.
Paulo Ceolho’s Holy Communion with God,
Or like the Japanese Tengaman says,
Or rather screams,
That all it it takes is a little *******.
So, yes.
That precise art of attaining a consciousness, from where your mind was
Afloat
Wild
Free
Satiated
By yourself
You’ve just consumed the essence of you
Your Ojhas
And the tiny matter that teaches the universe
Of a Shunya.
That, momentary sense of lapse of your body mass,
Or the breakthrough into your eye of the crown.
Only to join the mundane bustle of the 10,00 speakers on all four
JBLs, Boses and Pioneers live looping the zillions of sanskrit mantras under one roof.
In your Ear drum.
A synechdoche of the Gods and their jacuzzi of amphetamine bubbles.
Splashed from a white Elephant's bejewelled Snout, which has the
crowned ring in your pineals.
Secret lies under
the rotten bone chip of Hussain Sagar
deep under the ***** green lake,  
drowning the rainbow Buddha in the city of slimy immortal maggots on ham.
Open your eyes.
For the Gods will
Else
Cut your eyelids off
to show you that
the city's shardminds await you.
roaring
Playing close to the fire demons of Redland
A nail close to your wide open lid-less
White flowing eye.
Hear the city scream.
The deafening chaos,
In unison,
Intoxicating their venomous fruits
of the delirious worlds
Or simply put, divine prayer and offering
for
the Omnipotent,
Omniscient
And the
Om.
Shunya.
Or the cyclic abyss of meaninglessness.
But,
Like, the wilted azures
that seduced those flies,
From a far far away,
To come the praise the combs of their bellies,
Filled with the red from the omnipotent, dead, weak and evil
In one little fly belly.
They came from the
land called Lullaby.
To go there
from here,
But, first,
bear the Weasleys' infamous extendable ears and heed me now, for I say twice and See him Come.
The snake, the tangy smell of goated black rub and blueness.
Siva shouldn't come?
Not yet. A little DMT more in the brain and perhaps the spark will happen.
Better than the potions of those gigantic forest priests.
No, Heed me, now.

3 Dodos Walk-afar,
And, take the lone left-laden log
the one that is,
limitless Long
loyal and  let alone
By those
languors which
Killed
Lord Leopard Loot'.
While,
Lord's Lass
Lays lolled lambs,
Lolled ‘long le ******,
Leech on the laiden log,
leading to Lord Lava,
Yes.
The bridge of Casilii Po.

Of the Lord.
Guarded
By these bubbling bellies with a drop of the world's make.
Assassins.
the Fly, flies.

retain the scarification of theolden curse,
Older than the rocks underneath this gurgling lava,
On which reincarnation steams.

As destiny should have it,
the astrologers had seen,
3 centuries back
That at a Sphinx’s Wedding,
a war of Vision,
will break.
It will
Bring the Stars
Out of those melting blue nightsky of Neruda's wails;
And the diabolic estrangement inflicting Eagle,
From Meena’s vibes,
that rubbed of a distinct scent of Malabar embedding a little of everybody in the village,
on its Kasavu lines posing
at the focus
of Sahib's Ferguson or Baker.

The gold turned white.
A liquid white, like that of the sap,
For that,
***** on a parrot green rubber plant
And work your fun with the white gluey milk,
fragrant than the sap
Like the  Ylang Ylang buds freshly kissed by the drooly dew,
sealed away
elegantly in a crystal Indigo bottle by the pen stand.

One that glitters if you look at its surface, but smells of naphthalene ***** in the sink
in
that
creepy trailer in
mid salem night of the tut.
Colourful.
This is colorblind.

White is motile.
White is wriggling.
White is life.
With a **** of Eve’s fabric-less
Skin.
White is divinity
feeding you excess of everything,
With an tenfold over dosage injected intravenous, by a silver-haired-glow-in-the-dark-dodo-cupid;

She is divine.
**** Her.
**** her on a Pyre.
**** her innards on a fire.
inflame the bubble
of her her oily effluent you found on the toilet seat
Instil in her, the seed of your sodomic occult,
Not by compassion, but through a hiss and sting
of the
flawless venom of the diabolic.  
Then. Disinfect your fruit that you flicked off the paradise.
And bellow to the blowing gurgling below.  
A reign of ****  nihilism,
moaning the mood-swings-of-a-98-year-old-menopausing-Bhairavi of the Indian Aghora Tales;
And Shelly, fueled in his undiminished hearth with the help of his impetous West Wind,
dreaming lucid,
on a flight in the sky for one week,
with Lucy’s sewing  sequined buttocks,
Stinging their luminescent, lactating, lustrous skin,
Like a tatto machine, lifting rays into the epidermis
So that it roasts, burns a soot and neonifies the only colour
A shade of
The rave, rainbow-red karmas of human existence,
Its little greedy quantas waltzing around the matter
And of its unleashed illuminations
That fuel the same vessel in the universe,
infamously known as,
the
black hole.
Uggh!!

You are a brilliant poet and writer
And a terrific activist and orator
On the head, do you hit the nail
Every time without fail!

You speak what people do not want to hear
Which makes me grin from ear to ear
Never do you sugarcoat
Nor do you showboat
Supreme, is your clarity of thought
A lot of battles, must you have undoubtedly fought
And when it cometh to your imagination
To the winds, do you throw caution
The way you repeatedly attack our Brahminical patriarchy
Leaves us all under a spell
Because your writing is so fiery
That even the Sun can't hold a candle to it!!

Your English is flawless
So brilliantly do you assess
The problems in our society
Incomparable, is your brutal honesty
Not to mention, your Tamil is a work of art
Very well, have you played your part
In fighting caste and gender inequality
To all of us, do you represent Hope
Especially in these times of adversity
Never do you sit down and mope
When the going gets tough
Rather, do you tell yourself
"Enough is enough!"
And bounce back with a bang
Loud enough to silence your detractors
Unquestionable, is your character!!

To the literary world, are you an invaluable asset
Because, there ain't nothing you can't achieve
Above all, you make us believe
That we can fight the system
And most importantly, WIN!!

Headmaster’s son
Skipped class
Entered theater
Life to Alter
Matinee show Shaheed
Worshipped Dilip Kumar
Like many before
Dreamt about Movies
Like a few followed up
Won Filmfare talent Contest
Frontier Mail to Bombay
Promised film stalled after start
Struggled even for a bit part
Anonymous in stature
Mononymous in Name
Debut in 1960
Finally part of filmdom
Small role
Mentor Arjun Hingorani
For a princely sum of fifty and a cup of tea
Still a novice
Women centric movies
Romantic lead in the Sixties
Meena Mala and Nutan
Supporting role with passion
Step by step rise
Salary raise
Accepted every role
Occupied was his goal
Villain to Jubilee Star
Filmfare Nomination
Sunil Dutt first choice
Destiny's voice
Phool Aur Patthar
Set on fire
Box office Register
Superstardom attained
Humility retained
First Action Star
Christened He Man
Shirt removed on Screen
Greek God looks
Women Swooned
Top ten lists
Most beautiful men
Ranked seven
Romance and Melodrama
Bollywood formula
Action film as chosen path
Rode the Lone road Superstardom under grasp
Looks Delivery and Fights
Made fans of Men &Women alike
Blockbusters galore
India's Superhero
Hit after hit
Audience explode
Cinemas full
Entry to Dress Circle
Needed a Miracle
Action and Drama
Tragedy and Comedy
Range of talent and skill
For one ticket fans would ****
All performed with ease
Endearing fans with range
Complete Superstar India’s Gain
Rajesh Khanna with Aradhana
Took the Nation by Storm
Adulation never seen
Sensation by definition
Costume Mannerism
Copied by every Indian
Every Star took a fall
Rajesh the magician
Stars faded into oblivion
Mass hysteria
Across India
First Superstar
Next 5 years none on par
Giants’ wayside
Stood his ground
Equal number hits
Second to none
Dedicated Fans
Built over a decade
Common man
Still wanted the He Man
Action and Adventure
Helped endure
Glorious career
Storm passed
Many faded
He never dated
He was fated
Test of time
Passed with Jubilees
No obstacle for water
Flows through all
Fridays proved
He’d never fall.
August 15 1975
Saw the release of Sholay
The greatest Indian film ever made
Said the Great Master Satyajit Ray
Top billed in the cast
One film showcased talent all
Action, Comedy, Drama
Cannot tell the Character and Actor apart
True quality of a genuine movie star
Many giants in the cast
He did help some get the part
Ensemble film
Even though the biggest star
Did not want to stand apart
Final product always in his heart.
70 mm Surround Sound
Entire country Theater bound
Never seen action sequence
Racing high the crowds pulse
Music Score by Burman
Records sold by the Million
Every dialogue known by heart
Salim Javed knew their craft
Ramesh Sippy knew to bring them all
Extremely well acted by the cast
Never will be another Sholay
Present future or past
Not to be seen but experienced
Its not a film but a phenomenon
Greatest Story ever told
Greatest cast ever assembled
Was the Tag Line
Global Indian Population
Viewership the film got
Not surpassed till now
Never will be
Every city town or village
Across the entire Country
Full house boards were not a mystery
Number of years it had its run
Till today box-office records undone
Yeh Dosti with Manna Dey and Kishore Kumar
Greatest  film Song picturised
Sizzling chemistry and male bonding
Friendship the central theme
Bullet with side car
Everyman’s. dream
Zanjeer with Amitabh Bachchan
Birth of the Angry young man
Indian Cinema never the same
Reached Pinnacle
Rode like a Colossus
One Man Industry
Steamrolled into one
Every Aspirant pushed
Donning Supporting Role
Every Reputed Writer, Banner and Director behind
Thirteen years
None had a career
Superstars became former
Stars to Supporting actors
Newcomers extinct
Old timers jaded
Galvanized Nation
Every release
Celebrations for fans
Faded festivals
Another Superstar
Bigger and Better
More popular than god
Elevated to one
Neither shaken or stirred
Matched Bachchan
With box-office Gangbusters
Hits became a habit
Fans and public
Yearning for more
Whatever the competition
Stood his ground
Megastar or Superstar
No dent to this Farmer
Paired with Hema Malini
Record Successive strikes
Result was Box office gold
Many a Phoenix
Flashed and Vanished
Shorter reign at the top
Never could topple him
From the moviegoers heart
Superstars became Supernovas
Younger generations
Had come to stay
Still stood in the fray
Never one to give way
Always had the final say
Held cash registers still in sway
Replaced Relegated
Never to be
Another name for longevity
Turn of the century
Completed 4 decades in the industry
60s 70s 80s 90s
Times changed
Many faded
Some retired
Contemporaries eased into character roles
Later lot fared similar
Star Sons made their mark
His sons did their part
Dawned the new century
Multiplex and wide releases
He never ceased to be a draw.
Man with a very big heart
Gave breaks to many a director and star
Never bitter Never insecure
Thanks people for making him a Superstar
Gratitude and love
His trump card
Became the Symbol of friendship
His Chemistry with Amitabh
Deep from the heart
Reciprocal in nature
Their oneness
Greatest gift of God
For the entire Country
Will be celebrated
For generations to come
Amitabh and his name
Always mentioned together
For every moviegoer
Till kingdom come
Till the universe remains
Etched in the hearts
Is his name forever
Can never be erased
That's true loves power
Men want to be him
Women want to be with him
Oldest cliché used for a star
Suits none better than this man from Punjab
60 years completed
From Meena to Mallika acted.
Done films with his son
Now with Grandson
There’s no one on par
Who's lasted so far
What can you say
About an Actor and Star
Captured a billion hearts
Transcended generations
In this delicate world of films
Who cannot be confined to any era
This timeless living legend
Is called Dharmendra.

While giving away the Cecil B Demille Lifetime Achievement Award to Martin Scorsese Robert De Niro famously said that Mr. Demille will be equally honored if he were to receive the Martin Scorsese award
Likewise Mr. Phalke would be equally delighted to receive the Dharmendra Award

I have never seen and spoke before
Why love comes in my heart?
I don't remember your face
I have never seen you in my dream
Why I feel like to hold your hand always

I sent you messages everyday
I was checking till you see
After seen I was waiting for a reply
I felt bad since you never response
Is my life very pity?

I am not interested in your luxury life
I am not falling for your smile
Why I felt to live with you?

It is not a story to make you understand
It is a carving of a girl to live with you!!!!


#Meena Thangadurai#

Poor old Uncle Ben, looks like you have been fired
Get off our product packaging, your no longer required
Years of service would suggest, that you were once admired
But loyalty no longer counts, when your status has expired

Once you we're respected, and you didn't have to brag
I don't know why your suddenly, classed as a red flag?
They want to erase history, but their voices need a gag
A disrespect for microwaves, and rice boiled in the bag

Society no longer wants you, that much is surley proved
Do black lives really matter, when it's black that's being removed?
It doesn't make things better, and there's nothing that's improved
You can't substitute your ignorance, in the hope the world gets soothed

Why has he been targeted, why is it so precise?
Uncle Ben has been removed, from long and whole grain rice
Seventy years no way a slave, now he has paid the price
You have no thoughts, you've followed suit, you've taken bad advice

Your face must be offensive, cos they've played the racist card
This is the reason your now banned, and why you have barred
Paddy fields have felt your pain, they've taken the news hard
But it's not just blacks and foreigners, that's emotionally scarred

It doesn't matter what you change, or if old relatives discarded
He'll still be known as "Uncle Ben", he's too highly regarded
Whoever thought of this idea, they must be quite *******
Do you think your being diverse, when the public are bombarded?

Where is your proof or evidence, that the futures more inclusive?
It's not so stereotypical, when that club is non exclusive
You prattle on like pensioners, but your uncle's now illusive
How hypocritical can you be, when nothings that conclusive

Don't cause community divide, don't move things out of sight
Why do you exile darker skins, it simply is not right
Maybe it's your nature, and it's you that's not too bright
I wouldn't out of irony, ship them to the Isle of White

I fail to see the difference, with your product interference
Why are people in minority, scheduled for a massive clearance?
Perhaps you have a dislike, and you love race disappearance
The trouble is your arguments, have no sense of coherence

Who's next on the agenda, Who suffers the next chop?
Can I expect a range of goods, absent from the shop?
I hope "Aunt Bessie" won't succumb, to names that you will drop
Manhandled of her dumplings prove, that this madness should stop

Lunacy is on the rise, with the things that you endorse
Is "Meena" safe from tyranny, will you stop her at the sauce?
Or will korma be victorious, without the use of deadly force
With senseless attitudes of today, we'll find out in due course

I think that in all honesty, you've taking things too far
Even Disney's lost its faith, in Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
"Uncle Remus" can no longer, wish upon a star
Despite the fact they said it makes, no difference who you are?

Your excuses are not valid, so I couldn't give two hoots
Footwear is getting tighter, cos your too big for your boots
I wouldn't be at all surprised, if you dispose of "Levi Roots"
No more music on your food, and there's no real substitutes

Scapegoats come in many forms, through all our uphill slogs
To save us getting in a jam, they ditched the golly wogs
It started many moons ago, with the grinding of lifes cogs
But it wasn't worth the effort, now we've gone to the dogs

Who thought of "Ben's Original", that name is just the worst
It's quite clear that "Uncle Ben", simply got there first
Originality isn't something, that is planned and then rehearsed
Your led away like mindless sheep, and your obviously cohorst

There's nothing wrong with Uncles, or a packet that shows faces
Especially when they depict, a span of different races
I'll only purchase Uncle Ben's, with intact ethnic traces
We don't want contradictory claims, with "Original" as their bases

I think I'll switch to bachelors, or even shops own brand
Cos I can't stand the way you treat, the ethnics of our land
Why drown yourself In petulance, why try to get things banned?
Your attitude just goes to show, that you are underhand

You didn't mind old Ben's face, when you raked in the cash
It seems to me your acting dumb, and being far to rash
Why is "Uncle " so offensive, and the cause if rice backlash?
Your suffering from vindictiveness, and a sense of being brash

Jars of cooking sauces, now have something they all lack
The distinguished face of a man, who happens to be black!
He is a childhood icon, and he should be brought right back
And never mind the unaoriginal, with "Original" on the pack

Don't rip away the legacy, of a man from way back when
Actions taken do more harm, more now than they did then
Take my advice just leave things be, and don't mention it again
Cos I don't think it's very fare, on poor old Uncle Ben

I look up to you greatly
Thou art an amazing lady
In you, do I see a fire
That refuses to die, no matter what
You lay your soul threadbare
Wit, is one of your greatest assets
Never do you back down from a fight
In a tunnel full of never-ending darkness
Are you the light
Which keeps emptiness and depression at bay
And puts us firmly on the path to happiness
Come what may!

I look up to you greatly
Your writing is so fiery
That it can spark a raging inferno
Full of righteous anger
Against all the injustice perpetrated by the Indian State
The lynchings that refuse to abate
Poor and underprivileged children dying of hunger
People being denied homes due to their caste
While the government has the sheer nerve to boast
About its so-called achievements
Your poems are a testament
To the famous saying "The pen is mightier than the sword"
Very hard-hitting indeed, are your words!!

I look up to you greatly
Never dost thou fail to amaze
Every story of yours is a maze
Full of character arcs and plot twists
Ensuring we get hooked very fast
And by the time we finally put the book down
Our minds would have been blown!!

I look up to you greatly
Never dost thou fail to raise your voice
When it cometh to social justice
Yet, somehow do you manage to maintain your poise
In the face of never-ending malice
Which is constantly thrown your way
The way you keep your detractors at bay
Is something we must all learn
Thanks to people like you, have I gradually started to unlearn
Certain things I once considered gospel truth
Excel do you, at transforming the narrative
When it cometh to our Hindu myths
For your community, do you live
Not yourself
Hopefully, more books of yours may soon adorn my shelf!!

I look up to you greatly
Thou art a wonderful role model
Bestsellers, are your novels
You love your profession
As much as Israel loves to lie
You yourself are an institution
And always do you aim for the sky
So much have you done for our society
With an absolutely brutal honesty
That beggars belief
Your writings provide some much-needed relief
In these dark and difficult times
Where even mere dissent is often treated as a crime!!

I look up to you greatly
For you, is impossible nothing
And social justice, everything!!
By the Grace of God
May all your dreams come true
And may you have nothing to rue
Finally, must I say
More power to you, Meena!!

You make me so proud
Because, always do you say it so loud
A powerful crusader against injustice
Often, do you stand on the edge of a precipice
And scream so that the whole world can hear
Year after year
How ****** up is our country
An utter sham of a democracy
Always, do you walk the talk
Haters may say you often sulk
However, they cannot be more wrong
Because, like a honeybee, do you sting
Where it hurts them the most
Really, art thou the best
When it cometh to using words as a weapon
Your books are an emotion
And your activism gives us all hope
You certainly are not one to sit down and mope
Even while the world comes crashing down
No matter what, do it you can
Because, you are the fire that burns
Even when it rains cats and dogs!

You make me so proud
Thanks to you, is it not so hard
To believe that we can truly annihilate caste
We will ensure your pathbreaking work does not go waste
Thou art one of the bravest parents
Because, never do you allow motherhood to dent
In any way, your never-ending fight for social justice
In fact, you redefine independence
Doing almost everything on your own
Braving storm after storm
And yet managing to maintain a modicum of calm
As you set forth on an absolutely brutal journey
In a tearing hurry
In order to reclaim your stolen freedom
Truly, are you a powerful beam
Of light that never fades
By the rules, you do not abide
Because, you are simply a force of nature
A human being most mature
I repeat, you make me so proud
That I want to say it loud
VAAZHGA DR. MEENA KANDASAMY!!

Meena can drive Corona,
whispered Tina to Nina.
Is she a doctor?
How could she master?
Ney dear, it is Corolla.