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Vijaya Balan Dec 2021
The shift and the pause,
We take a look at each other and wonder,
Was it all worth it ?
Or was it all just a distraction ?
We seek remedies for maladies,
A late reaction for a hasty action,
We seek that elusive moment for temporary peace,
We shout and seek justice for pieces and bits that could be illusions,
Our journey on the tracks are carte blanche as we see fit,
The showcase over screens and five second stories will spiral,
As we crash and burn, little toy soldiers abandoned,
Out of sight and out of mind, we'll dance away into the darkness,
A preamble to all that we are able to achieve,
We have shifted mountains and closed boundary lines,
Stamped them as infectious and us as righteous,
Where do we seek to shine but in the gaze of the ones that we do not know,
Where do we seek solace but in the measures enforced to separate them and us,
Twisting, twirling, spiraling into the depths of our human magna carta as we proclaim we have graduated with magna *** laude,
We are the shadows that lurk behind our steps,
We are the misery that seeks all public attention,
We are the joy that's lost beyond a child's smile,
We are neural networks of sympathy and pumping hearts of empathy,
We are complicated and distinctive,
We are the black, white and grey,
We are the spaces in between your words and actions.
Vijaya Balan Jul 2018
Things happen, moments are created, faces are remembered and feelings are tightly grasped within the dry skin of our cracked hands,
Cracked hearts too maybe?
Where do we go but forward,
Remembering absent friends, lost loves, broken dreams and a hope to bury it all in that dark backyard behind our weathered but sturdy home,
We will move on, forge new paths, break new barriers, repeat a thing or two,
but oh well,
We all have some familiar cycles in our life right?
We are resilience built on the foundation of faith and belief,
We are unwritten pages, with past chapters that can fill a library, a library that none might visit,
And we will still go ahead and do everything that we want to, regardless of what anyone else ever said,
We are beings with a field of uncertainty surrounded by determination at the most unexpected moments,
Love and let go, love and cherish, love and be broken, love and not expect anything in return, love and be loved back a 1000 times,
We are the sum of billions of atoms,
We are the moments we create and the things that happen,
We are the beliefs of more than thousands of faiths in this world,
We are the tragedies of past, the conundrums of the present and the triumphs of tomorrow,
We are able,
We are capable of all of them,
We are capable and able.
Inspired by a mixed heavy week in July 2018. Death of a good friend, my 2nd year wedding anniversary, and 2nd year death anniversary of my mum. Love and death.
Vijaya Balan Feb 2017
You should have been the soul that Edgar Allen Poe loved,
So that he wouldn't have died miserable and alone,
You are the Morticia to my Gomez; deadly in love,
We would make a quirky Addams family, bar none,

I love the nerds in us and the banter of annoyance,
I love the moments of radiant love and our nature of being different,
'Cause we did meet exceptionally over persistence,
And we accept each other regardless of difference,

I wish that our love will remain eternal,
Narrated by Obi-Wan,
With a theme song by John Williams,
Directed by Lucas, nah, we don't need direction,
I do know, we need a Queen, and that's you my puddin'!
Leia to my Solo,
A Queen-B-lovin'-Quinn to my Joker,
A die-hard Drake lover with a heart for the Dark Side,
This Vader loves his Amidala, xoxoxo,
We would revel on any side but the holy!
May this love never fade, and be full of surprises,
But not the kind where there is nasi lemak with no ikan bilis!
But you make the best **** nasi lemak, sigh,
I'm forever grateful for my Babloo
I'm forever grateful that you're by my side,
My Annabel Lee, I'm grateful Poe never met you,
'Cause you're all mine!
A poem dedicated to my wife.
Vijaya Balan Feb 2017
I'd like to think that they are all One,
Even the old stories said so,
But the same stories created multiple ones,
Where is the truth in all these tales?
Hidden between the lines of the translator?
Or within the words of the narrator?
Or convoluted by the repeated writings of many hands?
I guess that a journey inspired by any one of a tale,
Shall also be a tale by itself.
You may not need to verify the source,
May you be the source for others,
When we look for inspirations Upstairs,
Why not look among ourselves ?
wrote while on my first trip to India
Vijaya Balan Feb 2017
Painted pictures come to life,
Twirling landscapes with subliminal words,
He gestures back and forth with life,
The white canvass transforms into a palette

You stood on the inside,
Wanting to go out,
You watched from the inside,
Wishing you were someone else

He’s driven around in a limousine,
With a stack of green bills to light his cigar,
He’s got it made and does not know you exist,
He dines with pomposity and drinks in gold

You stood on the outside,
Watching him dine and wine,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing you was sitting there.

She was a model, thin and tall,
Brawny and bright with a flair of the fair,
She smiled and danced, gyrating her hips
She partied until she could no more

You stood on the outside,
You wished you had her life,
You watched from the outside,
Wishing someone invited you
To life’s grand celebration

You did not know though,
The model died of drug abuse,
The tycoon was murdered,
And the artist…ahh the Artist!
That was you…that was you first and foremost
You forgot and you deviated!
You re-arranged your priorities

And now…and now
You stand on the outside,
You no longer can watch the world go by,
You no longer can wish,
You in a wooden coffin,
Being laid to rest.

You died yesterday,
Poisoned with affection
By someone who stood by
And watched you from the outside
formerly known as "Me,watching you"
Vijaya Balan Dec 2016
You were a rock for us,
I saw you as a lifeless rock recently,
Emotions grappled my throat and tears rolled down like a stream,
An embodiment of warm radiant love, sleeping in dry ice.

You used to be sitting by the passenger seat,
When I took you for dialysis in the mornings,
Today you were sitting there too,
Except you were inside a ***,
I had to do the final rites,
Seeing you in ashes and bones,
I realized about mortality and trivial matters,
Reciting for Lord Shiva to ensure you have the proper path above this earthly plane,

You left at 61, you had many more years in you I believe,
But you had fought and struggled long enough,
I hope we have done you justice,
I hope your soul is now at peace,
Flowing smoothly like the river,
The river where we scattered your mortal remains,
I’ll tell Lord Shiva to ensure you have a flowered path where your feet are no longer in pain,
On that path to your eternal rest, where you no longer need a wheelchair.

You were an exceptional wife, mum and woman,
A strong individual for every single day of it,
You have not cooked in a long time but I'd always remember the smell of your dishes,
You were always the one with practical guidance,
A generous heart that was always smiling and entertaining the little ones.

Ammama's siblings attended the wedding,
And they also witnessed a funeral,
‘Padpu’ mama  helped tie my veshti for my wedding,
Little would we know he’s gonna’ help me again at a cremation site,

You had a small dinner at the hotel reception,
Ironically, you passed your last breath at the opposite hospital 2 days later,
Emotions choked us all,
And only time can soothe us now,
We can only hope now,
That you will be simmering within peaceful and harmonious moments.

We love you Amma,
One love of my life left as another love of my life came in,
I'm ever grateful for the presence of loved ones around,
I hope you don't have to incur rebirths, but that you remain in eternal rest,
Watching us from above,
With unconditional love.

- In tribute to my late dear mum, Madam Sivaneswary Maruthavanar (25.03.1955 - 12.07.2016)
Vijaya Balan Feb 2016
Deviants we are who gathered at this square table,
Dancing and cheering with the elixirs of intoxication,
I stopped and smelled the fresh air,
There was an abundance of it

A parade passed by for the eyes of the able,
A parade of beautiful shapes,
Surrounding a malady,
A deadly lady, the Bella Donna,
With her dilated pupils and seductive looks,

They witnessed a deadly parade,
Everyone met with the deadly nightshade,
And they kissed her for luck,
And plucked her ripe fruits,
And hallucinated with her,
This was a tale of the dead,
And they would never see daylight

Fools who consumed nature's toxic,
They met the lovely 'belladonna',
They were after all, consumers of nature,
And now She consumes them back.

So here we are gathered in the rectangle plot,
The mood is somber under dark grey clouds,
A parade of lost souls under an earth lot,
I couldn't scream no more, as sand filled up my mouth,
I stopped and smelled the foul air,
Whatever that remained of it.
- Vijaya Balan © 2016
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