Green
Refreshing
Maturing to become
Grains that will feed us

WIth the sweat of the farmer
WIth the tears of the widows and daughters
WIth the sorrow of the indebted ..
WIth the curse of the deprived and downtrodden..

We don't see the stories behind the scene
We relish the fancy recipes of the Master Chefs
Of fragrant rice, golden rice and the slim and slender grains
We forget the dark, thin, slender bodies who make it for us...

A cool morning
After a night's Rain
Sun still hesitating to wake up
from the blanket of the clouds...

What we see in the mirror
Is a virtual Image
Out there for us to explore.

But do we always get to
See the real world ?

Or are we always
After the reflections ..
And not the real?

Sweet is the village home
With the overhanging trees
With the open well on the east
With the kitchen adjacent to the well..

The coconut trees giving shade
The Jack fruit and the mango trees
Decorating the land beside
The peacocks roosting on the trees

The red Mangalore tiles
Giving protection from the sun and the rain
The green chillies and the bananas
The drumstick tree and the climbers

Ginger and Curry leaf tree
The Coccinia and the Turkey berry
Plants and climbers
Giving all the vegetables in-house

The long verandahs
The corridors
The wooden stairs
The large dining hall

It is not just a home
But a life itself
With nostalgic memories
Which will never die at all...

The house that has seen
Various happy moments
Various sad events
Which has seen birth and death

It is not just a home
But a life itself
With nostalgic memories
Which will never die at all.....

Patiently he untangles the net
Standing calmly
Brazing the breeze
On the dancing boat
With an oar on its side
Which is cooled by the
Waters of the river..

The sun will set in an hour or so
And he has to finish his catch
Before the dusk
And back to his hut
Where his wife will
Waiting eagerly
To make the dinner
With the fresh catch

Another day
Another catch
The river but
Remains the same
Greeting the fishermen
Who roam the river
With their boats

I wish
I were as brave as the rain
Because
It's not afraid
Of the waterfalls,
The rocks
The stones,
The gulleys
The thorns, or the dirt,  
The garbage
Which when falling
Is so pure
But after the fall
Gets through
All the *******..
And Poisoned*
.....
..
.

The distant howl of a fox
The high pitch sound of crickets
The croaking of the frogs
The light sound of the drizzle

This music of the Night
Makes me dreamy and happy
And I am slowly
slipping into the night's sleep