The sea was once our prehistoric home.
O how we adapted to its dark currents,
to its India-ink infinities,
chasing seaweed, driftwood and coral,
before belly-flopping onto dry ground.

Now, the sea threatens our ancestral home,
the sea that falls from the angry skies
with their charcoal-smudged infinities.
A swelling flood, chasing red alert,
destroying houses and lives; raining grief.

Once sea-bound creatures now drown at home,
ill-adapted to meet the flood's malevolent intent:
to purge the Earth of all who cannot resist
the rushing, rising mountains of waters,
before proclaiming its final conquest of India's ancient lands.

Now, only prayer will be our home, built on deepest despair.
Now, only God's omnipotent infinities
circle the mud-brown rapids of sludge
choking all who helplessly cross their path.
Only God can make Kerala and Tamil live again, as one, on dry, holy ground.

To speak all these languages:
Assamese, Bengali, Bodo,
Chhattisgarhi, Dogri , Garo -

Oh, to be able to tongue, "Love"
in Gajarati, Hini, Kannada, Kashmiri,
Khasi,  Kokborok, Konkani -

Or lip, "Desire" in
Maithili,  Malayalam,  Manipuri,  Marathi,  Mizo,  Nepali -

Or whisper, "Good night, Dear"
in Oriya, Punjabi,  Sanskrit,
Santali,  Sindhi, Telugu, Tamil, or Urdu.

I initially came to know you through Tamil
This was more than eight years ago
Since then, a lot has happened over the years
You and Tamil are one of my favourite couples
The understanding between the pair of you
Is deeper than the Pacific Ocean
And stronger than the Rock of Gibraltar
You are not only a very caring husband
But also a proud father
Of a very spirited child
Who is rather naughty
But at the same time, rather sweet and innocent
I am extremely thankful to you
For taking such good care of my best friend
But it's not just about Tamil
You yourself are a good friend of mine
Always supportive and encouraging
I can never forget the time
When you and Tamil were instrumental
In saving me from a disaster of a marriage
You are also extremely hardworking
And put your heart and soul into your profession
Please remain the way you are
Keep rocking and see you soon!

Around 4 in the evening, I proceeded to Karaikkal, a Union Territory.

By the time we reached Nagapattinam, I noticed that the driver was tired and asked him to have a strong cup of tea. When he was gulping it reluctantly, I, who did not like strong tea, watched the cows walking along the narrow ways. But, the cows did not look at me. The cows I watched. The cows that did not pay any attention to me. I was a bit out of breath realizing how quickly nonexistent relationships were formed in an unknown Tamil village.  I lit up one more cigarette. I remembered the doctor in Britain, a stunning beauty, who prescribed that as soon as I found it difficult to breathe I should light up a cigarette. ****! When it is hard to breathe because of nonexistent relationships and when I light up a cigarette as an antidote to that, there appear row upon row of relationships of some sort or other.  

I began to detest bitter strong tea. I was irked by the cows that went along the narrow ways. I felt hatred towards their not so small udders. An afternoon dawned one day when I felt the same kind of vengeance towards udders. The blood stains from the udders that were slashed down emerged on my hands, legs, back and under belly.

Once again I felt revulsion for bitter strong tea. The driver sipped the hot bitter tea. I hated the moment when I asked him to have tea. I loathed the words that I used to say that. I despised even the words that I had kept in reserve to say that.

Then, I watched the people etching tattoos by the roadside. I wondered how it will be if I got a tattoo for myself.  I tried to recall how deep I was to get a tattoo done.

A person I liked.
A name I liked.
A place I liked.
A digit I liked.
A syllable I liked.
A memory I liked.

I felt a lot of aversion. Wondered if I should tattoo my mother’s name on my shoulder. I found it amusing that when I die people may identify me by my mother’s name. But, I felt sad when I thought that stranger women may plant their kisses on it. ****! I felt so sad.  I abhorred those bitter cups of tea and narrow ways. I lit up one more cigarette.  Then, I, who tattooed my mother’s name on my shoulder, started decaying on the spot.  Rotting with a terrible stench. The people, the cows and the goats that I did not mention before bolted.  Abruptly, the driver came and told me that we could move from there.  I felt so bitter towards even the bitter tea that was inside him.

Somehow, we reached Karaikkal. Yes, at 630 in the evening. Even though I had never been to Karaikkal, a Union Territory, I sat on the same chair in the same corner of the same bar. The bearer poured me the wine.

He kept pouring the wine.
He kept pouring the wine.
The wine kept emptying.
The wine kept emptying.
The wine kept unraveling.
The wine kept unraveling.

It was a Dutch woman who gathered me up and took me with her when I got totally unraveled. She was older than me. There was no power in her room. The way she washed my body in lukewarm water could have put to shame even the midwives giving a bath to babies. When I rose up sometimes and asked her name, she sealed my lips with hers. When it was repeated many times, I thought that her name must mean something like a kiss. And, she never spoke a word except with lips.

Unraveling wine, lukewarm water, the nonstop conversation by lips. Though lips got tired, I heard the murmur from my pelvis. She too must have heard that. She touched my *****. Quite a guy she exclaimed cracking a joke. Told her I salvaged it from the sea at Tanjore and it was some temple mast some sculptor abandoned. If it’s a temple mast, let the festival begin she said.

It was some festival.
Festival of festivals.
Black lacquer bangles, vermilion, ribbons
Hydrogen balloons
Spinning tops
It was some festival.
Festival of festivals.

A simile as washed out as a festival ground emptied of crowds. For the lack of a better one.  Returned from Karaikkal, a Union Territory, at some hour.  I dumped that taxi driver on the way. Not only because I was disgusted with bitter tea, but also because his name was not Thintharoo.

I can never again put up with a driver whose name is not Thintharoo.




**(trans by Ra Sh)

Dear Tamil,
Wish you a very very happy birthday in advance!
May you get a chance
To make this occasion extra special
Rarely, are you dull
About you, that's what I love the most
Not to mention, never do you boast!

Go back a long way, do we
And very special are you, to me
From colleagues to family friends
May our relationship have no end!

One of the best things, about my first job
Was the fact that you cared not
About my strange mannerisms
Never was my autism
An issue to you whatsoever
Because you judged people never!

A long way have we come, since then
Very supportive, have you always been
Saving me from a disastrous marriage
You truly released me from a cage
In which I had been trapped, for over a month
Thus, do I turn to you the most
When my confidence is at its lowest

We may be in different places
But our friendship has a strong base
Occasional misunderstandings and fights, there may be
But always care for each other, do we

You are a loving wife and mother
Very close, were you and my late maternal grandmother
A good friend of mine, is your husband
Of you, is he extremely fond
A mischievous but cute boy, is your son
Being with your family is always fun

Very caring, is your mother
You brought me closer to my own sister and father
Well, wish you the happiest birthday ever
May you change never!

where is my indian
is it in the way i don't use my palms as a medium to transport rice into the back of my mouth
is it in the way my face turns gloomy at the sight of spice and curry
is it in my skin color that isn't as brown as you need it to be
is it in my eyebrows which aren't as bushy as per your requirements

is it in the way my tongue twists awkwardly as i say happy diwali
is it in the way amma is the most fluent piece of tamil i speak
is it in the way i didn't know how to recite the words at my grandpas funeral
is it in the way i cannot, for the life of me, name you another tamil movie besides chandramukhi?

or

is it in the religious classes i took up until age 12
is it in the ramayana epic that i learnt, age 8
is it in the sanskrit bhajans i was made to sing, not knowing what they meant, age 10
is it in knowing that ganesh is the remover of obstacles,
brahma, vishnu, shiva - the creator, the preserver, the destroyer

is it in the eyeliner drawing a bindi in between my eyes when i
head to the temple, to present myself as indian

where is my indian
is it on a checklist, is there a passing mark?
where is my indian
please tell me,
because i am tired of feeling like a foreigner in my own skin

Part 1 At the Saint’s Book Store (Singapore, 1970)


when I was just 15
and just after
a trip to the National Library
I saw a slim volume
at the Saint’s Book Store
(named after a TV series
and true to the borrowed name,
a second-hand book store)
and its spine said: Kama Sutra


Now that’s a title
they don’t have at the National library,
I mused
and I took it down off the shelf
and stood, agape -
transported to Ancient India
by the very seductive picture
on the cover page;
didn’t make me feel like a saint at all


but my reader’s instinct
got the better of me
and so I opened the book
in which the Introduction
ran boringly longer
than the main meat of the text
and so I went on to
Vatsyayana’s
own enigmatic words


This I must have-
I said to myself,
after only five pages of Vatsyayana
and the sticker label on the
used book replied: $2.50
I bought the book
and walked home
and had no lunch that day






Part 2 ***** Science


What are you reading?
asked little Somu,
a year younger than I was


It’s a Science book,
I said, turning away from him

If it’s a Science book,
the little rascal said,
why are you hiding it behind
another science book?


Mind your own business,
I said,
Hardly taking my eyes
off Vatsyayana’s classic


I’ll mind my own
if you tell me what it is;
otherwise dad
will come to know of it-
and you won’t be able to tell
him to mind his own business


Oh! I said, angry and afraid,
and I threw down my books
(the cover book and the hidden book).
You’re too young for such things.


But he looked at me
as only a dangerous blackmailer can
and I yielded to his request -
I would summarize aloud each chapter
for him as I finished reading each
(That’s the trouble when
fate throws you in
with siblings who don’t read)



And day in and day out
over the next few weeks
I summarized the Kama Sutra –
no, I don’t think I summarized,
I extemporized,
I added details, I confess –
for the benefit of non-reading Somu
that silly pumpkin of a brother
who didn’t understand a word of what I said!






Part 3: Weird History



That night as we lay
on our mats on the floor
Somu asked me:
You know…I was thinking.…
ever since you provided
your summary of the Kama Sutra
delivered in such melodramatic actor’s voice…
I’ve been wondering….Do you think Dad knows
the Kama Sutra?



Oh, I said immediately.
How would
dad know
about the Kama Sutra?
It’s been banned In India
since the middle ages.
He only knows
Hare Rama, Hare Rama…
Now, maybe it’d do you good
to repeat the mantra 100 times
and go to sleep…
You might end up in Vaikunta.


And then insomniac Somu said:
What’s that book you were reading
this afternoon
covered behind your
school History Text Book?


Oh God! Nothing escapes the eyes
of this sibling who came a year after me;
and I had to make an honest reply
or he’d pursue me to the ends of the earth:
Oh, it’s another book
I found at the Saint’s Book Store;
it’s called The Perfumed Garden;
it’s in Arabic and you won’t understand a word;
you can read it when you’re fifty
because that’s how long it’ll take me to translate the work


Somu, the silly sibling ever,
sat up on his mat and looked at me suspiciously:
When did you learn Arabic?
You can’t even read Tamil properly,
you monolingual Indian!



And irritated, I said:
Oh shut up and sleep…
Don’t you go digging into what I do.
I learn all sorts of things in my own time –
and you’re best, little brother,
to stick to Hare Rama, Hare Rama
Or Hara Hara, Siva Siva…




And for that,
the traitor of a brother told all our school mates
I was reading ***** Science
and weird History!







Part 4: The Puritans Come Home



What is a young boy
just turned fifteen,
said the outraged visitor to my father
doing with a copy of Kama Sutra?
And he pointed his bony finger
at me, sitting with my brother Somu
and his thirteen-year-old son Kittu;
we kids sat on the floor
and the dignified adults
sat elevated on the sofa

And he continued:
So, tell me,
what is a young boy like
that doing with erotica?
Is this the time for him?
This is the time for him to study
his textbooks and do his homework.
And the outraged father
pointed his finger at my sheepish father
and he continued:
Your son goes to the same school as my son –
and I’m afraid he’ll be a bad influence.
At History lessons and Literature class,
my son reports,
your boy asked the teachers why
they don’t teach Kama Sutra.
This is outrageous and crazy!



My father looked at me
but couldn’t see my eyes
thanks to my state-welfare
horn-rimmed glasses
and he said to the outraged visitor:
I don’t know…
He reads all sorts of stuff…
He discovers all these books
at the National Library
and bookshops…
He’s read Gandhi’s biography…
and now it appears
he’s discovered Kama Sutra…
Should we really stop him?



The uncertain father slumped in the sofa;
but the outraged father jumped up
dragged his son Kittu to the door
and he turned around and said:
You call these discoveries?
Get him to stick his nose
in his school textbooks!
He will come to no good!
He will bring you shame!
You call these discoveries?
I’m not coming here anymore –
and turning to his son
he said:
Don’t ever talk to that boy;
don’t you ever be near him!

And off they went,
Outraged Father and Trembling Son
into Dusty History.





Conclusion


My father and I looked at each other;
not a word was said –
and he is not here today
for a translation of what I write here now


As for my little brother
that traitor who had told Kittu,
I took both books
The Kama Sutra and The Perfumed Garden
and hit him smack on his head:
and he has remained
stunted physically and mentally ever since








Postscript



What’s that thick book,
said Somu two weeks later,
on the shelf?

That’s Origin of Species
by someone called Charles Darwin,
I said.

Is it one of those ***** books?
he asked.

I think so, I said. I heard some religions
have it blacklisted
so it must be *****.

And what’s that one beside it?

That’s Shakespeare, I said. Complete Works.

Is it another of your ***** books?
said Somu.



Well, I said to this juvenile sibling
just a year younger than I.
There must be many ***** parts in the volume…
You can never escape dirt…it’s all part of life.

Saw women
Waiting at the bus stop

Heard the new cinema song
From the advertising vehicle

Asked the stranger sitting near me
Whether he was not going to Potta ashram

In conductor’s seat
Slumbers a traveler without a ticket (stowaway)

Under the label of defence forces,
Two school children
On the Ladies’ seat,
Padre from the local church

“The lady who brings this card is an orphan
Her family was lost in floods
She is the only one for herself and her child
A blue card fell in my lap.

How did I become blind?
Beating time on the stomach,
A Tamil song stretched its arm
Became deaf

A girl became mute
“do you remember this face?”

Sat on the seat for handicapped
With a sense of belonging and righteousness.

Gratitude:
It pays to be kind
It pays to know
that something's not gonna
be there forever
I'm serious

When that lovely lady passed away
this monster ****** all
the life
out of her
I couldn't help but think
why hadn't i treasured you before
Why oh why

So here is my gratitude poem
I love you mummy
For all the things
From sacrificing your sleep and time
To make me a good breakfast
And ironing uniforms
Which you've always hated to do
But did that all for me
So that I would look decent in school
To Staying up with me
To do homework and revision
before terrifying monsters called EXAMS
For kissing me goodnight and
telling me good things about life
Doing so many lovely things
So that I would have a better life
I love you mummy

I love my dad
No matter how much I seem to argue with you
on math or science
I really love you too.
Deep down I really appreciate your help
but you've got to dig deeper to see that
I hope you talk to me more
About your life
It's always been about my life
my studies
my health
my friends
And our talks
never about you
I never known a genius like you.

*****
You are a *******
Really
I wish you were 5 all again
When you didn't have sarcastic comments
And the I-grew-up-already attitude
I love you all the same
You stay up to help your big sis
With her art work
( I **** at art)
Or type for me in tamil
You do great things, girl
And sooner or later
You are gonna be a great young lady
Just like me

I love all my friends
The ones that hurt me
The ones that love me
The ones that like me
All of you gave
me
experiences
words
advice
stories
that I've never known
What is a life without stories?

And lastly,
my grandpa
You were a great man.
You may have died
When I was one
But I'm telling you grandpa
I love you all the same
I remember your wise words
All the famous people who came to
Shower their blessings on me
And your lovely lap
Which I used to take as my personal bathroom
I'll never forget you
You have an indelible place in my heart
You have been my greatest inspiration
and strongest supporter
I love you all the same.

The things I am grateful for
It's an endless list
But I love each and
every single
one all
the same.
I will treasure you better from now on.


I love you.

கடல் பின் வாங்குவதால் தான் அலைகள் தோன்றுகிறன...
after every ebb there is a tide...
தோல்வியோ வெற்றியோ நிரந்திரம் அல்ல,
தோல்வியை எதிர்பவன் தான் வெற்றி காண்கிறான்...


translation from tamil:

only when the sea recedes does the tide appear,
after every ebb there is a tide..
failure or success is not permanent,
only the one who faces fear can meet success..
success succeeds failure.

Kanna: the tamil equivalent of the words baby/ sayang/ honey/ bunny/ sugarplum/ puffy yummy yum.

There is nothing sweeter than calling a loved one Kanna— the god of love, another name for Krishna.

Krishna's love encompasses the entire spectrum of this beautiful feeling – love for his foster mother Yashoda, for his brother Balaram, love for gopis and for Radha.

Imagine meeting someone so wholesome you want to call them Kanna.

Kartinee Mageswaran

Saw women
Waiting at the bus stop

Heard the new cinema song
From the advertising vehicle

Asked the stranger sitting near me
Whether he was not going to Pota ashram

In conductor’s seat
Slumbers a traveler without a ticket

Under the label of defense forces,
Two school children
On the Ladies’ seat,
Padre from the local church

“The lady who brings this card is an orphan
Her family was lost in floods
She is the only one for herself and her child
A blue card fell in my lap.

How did I become blind?
Beating time on the stomach,
A Tamil song stretched its arm
Became deaf

A girl became mute
“do you remember this face?”

Sat on the seat for handicapped
With a sense of belonging and righteousness.

Bismillah IrrahmanIr Raheem.

The sun and earth are in love,
Their lifelong love properly,
Supplied us with fields in the organic form of
As being, we are traditionally kind farmers,
Who return in common the love towards all,
let’s us all, celebrate this love
In this glorious day as a Pongal day!!!!!

Wish you All Happy Pongal!

Wish you Happy….. Makara Sankranti, Lohri, Sakraat & Makraat, Uttarayan, Suggi, Magh Saaji, Ghughuti, Makra Chaula, Kicheri, Pousha Sankranti, Magh Bihu, Shishur Sankraat, Makara Vilakku, Maaghe Sankrat, Tirmoori, Songkran, Pi Ms Lao, Thingyan, Mohan Songkran.

May this day bring us all Happiness, Wealth and comfort to all struggling farmers around the world and to my native Tamil peoples.

Let’s Celebrate this day as a start of every civilization with sweetness, courage and With New Hope.

Allah Khair…..Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019

You partied hard when you could
Gold mini skirt and heels
But underneath the glamour
Were guts and nerves of steel

Home was fun and jolly japes
A lively social whirl
But work was war zones, scary scrapes
For our brave reporter girl

You found yourself in Libya
Met the mad dog's stare
He liked you, it was a feather in your cap
You made your name out there

Sri Lanka's where you lost an eye
To shrapnel flying in the dark
They thought you were a Tamil Tiger
Hiding in the grass

Back home someone told you off for smoking
Quick came your reply
Don't concern yourself, I promise you
That's not how I'll die

In Chechnya you made it out
Escaping with your life
As mortars fell you legged it
Eight days over mountain snow and ice

East Timor was your finest hour
Fifteen hundred people protected by too few
You refused to leave, they were saved
That was down to you

Luck ran out in Syria
You feared another massacre, tried to warn the world
So the shells once more homed in on you
And killed our brave reporter girl

those words rolled
out of my tongue,
become all yours.

           *

മൂന്നു സുവർണ മൊഴികളാൽ ബന്ധിതർ നമ്മൾ  (10 വാക്കുകൾ )
  
എൻ നാവിൽ നിന്നാ -
മൊഴികൾ പൊഴികയായ്,
അവയെല്ലാമിനി  നിനക്കുള്ളതായ്‌.
(Translated in to Malayalam)
                     *
மூன்று பொன் வார்த்தைகளால்  முடிந்திடப்பட்டோம்  (10 வார்த்தைகள்)

என் நாக்கிலிருந்து
அந்த வார்த்தைகள் பொழிந்தன,
அவையாவும் உன்னுடையதாயின.
(Translated in to Tamil)

For someone who is as busy and as big a deal as Tamannaah Bhatia, her courtesy comes as breath of fresh air. "I am in Mumbai in the middle of back-to-back shoots for endorsements," she says, apologising profusely, for a few minutes' delay in keeping her appointment with us. With films lined up in Telugu, Tamil and Hindi, Tamannaah is one busy bee, indeed. "The Bahubali shoot still on — I have some work left in it which will be completed this month," she says, as she settles down down for a chat with Hyderabad Times. Excerpts.

So, you must have become quite a pro at sword-fighting, horse-riding et al, now that you are close to wrapping up the shoot for Bahubali...

(Laughs) Playing Avantika has changed my life. Horse riding was something I had never tried before. It was a completely new space to be in and it was scary. I realised that the only way to deal with it is to first face my fears, even before I stepped into the arena to train. Because once I'm on the horse, it's either me riding the horse or the horse taking me for a ride. (laughs). So there was no room for fear. But the training really helped me become more agile and sensitive to my body. This film changed how the industry looked at me. I went from being a dainty, soft girl to this strong woman.

So, do you look at yourself differently as well?

Well, I have overcome a lot of fears — be it the fear of heights or anything that's even remotely challenging physically. I feel empowered now. I have seen myself transform. I was someone who would think twice before going out alone; now, when someone says you have to do an aerial shot, I am like, 'Bring it on!' I'm not scared of things any more. I'm not nervous; not anxious. In general, I'm a braver person.

After this, acting in entertainers might seem like a cakewalk...

Not necessarily. Even the song in Abhinetri demanded a lot from me physically. I mean, there were 15 days of hectic rehearsals alone before we got to the real shoot. The job of an actor is such that you are required to be fit all the time. This is one profession that gives you the ability, no, the right to focus on yourself — physically, mentally and emotionally. It makes you stronger. And I quite enjoy it!

You seem to be enjoying being the fashionista too, of late...

(Laughs) Believe it or not, before I went to Bollywood, I thought there was no such thing as fashion industry. I thought movies drove fashion. I had no clue how trends came about. I did not know that there were trends for every season, nor was I aware of the many fashion weeks. I was more of an actor; less of a fashionista.

When I started doing Hindi films, I realised that fashion was not some frivolous business! People might think, 'Arrey, what's the fuss about what shoe you wear?'. But, now,

I like dressing up because I realise that it is an expression, and an extension, of your personality. There was a lot of trial and error, but in the end, I found my personality through clothes. Now, when I am sitting and chilling, I find myself researching on trends. I feel responsible for the fashion choices I make, because when you set a trend, hundreds are going to follow you. You don't want to set the wrong example.

So much pressure! How do juggle it all and manage to stay sane?

Family. I have always had them around me, even if they aren't physically present. So when I am having a crazy day and need to find some sanity, I will look for solace in family. In fact, there have been times when they felt I didn't sound alright on the phone, so they took the next flight to come see me. Having a support structure like that keeps me sane.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra | www.marieaustralia.com/plus-size-formal-dresses

Consumed by a primitive hunger, they made passionate love,
in a lovely wooded stretch, away from their verdant village,
the girl, in the throes of a newly known pleasure,
felt something round, just below earth,
touching her moving hip; it turned out to be a dinosaur egg!
a witness beyond time for the ardency of Tamil lovers

You are a wonderful sister
Proud am I, to be your brother
And glad to know you're doing quite well
Working in London is so cool
Especially given the present economic situation
To the winds, were you willing to throw caution
And worked it has, like a charm
Always big, do you dream!

You are a wonderful sister
And though I haven't exactly been the best brother
For you, do I greatly care
Also, though blood need not always be thicker than water
To me, are you and always will you be dear
Supportive are you, to the core
And willing to see the good in everyone
Never, will you be alone!!

You are a wonderful sister
And take after our mother
Very shrewd and level-headed
Many a difficult situation, have you handled
With a surprising ease
Which seems to come to you as naturally
As flying a broomstick does, to Harry Potter
For anyone and everyone, do you care
Because, are you just and fair
Not to mention, was it you and Tamil
Who rescued me from my disaster of a marriage
For that, forever will I be grateful
Certainly, is your heart large!!

You are a wonderful sister
And a **** smart lawyer
We've been through good and bad times
But I remember mainly the good times
If you're happy, I am happy
Unfortunately though, often have I been snappy
However, deep down, do I always love you
And want only the best for you
Please take good care of yourself
Also, surely will I work on myself
Hopefully, will we visit you next year
And may the Lord bless you, now and forever!!

mother problems
chicken pox
asked my aunt
she replied
shower my mother with love and care
after many tries
chicken pox
appointment to the end
of chicken pox
sent my mother a message that she wasn’t okay
drowsy drowsy
medicines
drowsy
shouts and screams
a clueless father
a I-dont-give-two-*******-***** sister
exams over
results out
failed my favourite subject
HOW DID I FAIL LITERATURE
chicken pox doctor
misdiagnosis
then gave me wrong number of weeks to rest
choreography for bollywood
tamil folk
parents were showering ill concealed parental
concern
went to support
ran ran ran
confused and nervous
of the entire world hating me
i ran. ran. i ******* ran
wash the dishes
cooked **** - got scolded for not cooking
extremely ***-y father
why the ******* hell did that happen
cooked
messed up dishes
ate dinner outside
whole family sick
syf prac horrendous
out of breath
trying to run
dinner outside everyday
people who didnt listen
people who didnt care about the dance
time limit
one week before kanal
havent finished choreography
CHICKEN ****** POX
came back to school
parents being ***
whole family down with chicken pox
mother working her *** off
she doesnt want any help
dancing dancing dancing  
mother’s talk about me trying to get away from dance
raffles diploma
performance
november performance
i couldnt dance
kicked out ruthlessly
kanal
five minutes before
a message no more such activities next year
marche dinner
screamed and screamed
out of breath
******* hole in my throat
ran ran ran ran ran
away from idiosyncrasies
raffles diploma
career choices
out of money
where did all the money go
where did all the money go
goals
fashion designer
parents : banker, scientist
work backwards from the goal
dance i want to dance
outings
2 days before
go on to khan academy
father only listens to himself
crushed bones
crushed ribcages
i cant breathe
still running

We live in a house, simple and nice
With a garden lined with crotons in rows
Not so neatly trimmed or pruned as before
And a lawn not always well manicured
But abounding in plants with blooms of varied hue
From shady corners, orchids peep
They bring forth flowers in bunches and mass
Only on certain seasons, not the year round.
Then a visual treat to the eyes, indeed!

Trees big and small border our land
Mango trees and jack fruit trees
Coconut palms and guava trees
Twining creepers with globular passion fruits
Bushy plants of sweet and sour berries
Rose apples, papayas and Chinese limes
An epitome of country abundance!

In front of the house was once a stretch of fields
Lush and fresh with paddy plants in June
And in autumn, bent with arching sheaves of corn
Green parakeets used to come from far
To eat the grains ready to be reaped
Having their fill they would fly westward in flocks
Such scenes were a source of instant delight

But sad enough, those fields were gradually filled
In place of paddy and other seasonal crops
Industrial units, big and small have emerged
By degrees, the quiet and coolness of the place
That once soothed our frayed nerves are gone
Now an exodus of men have landed here
Laborers who have come from Northern states
To eke out a living in a better clime
Speaking languages, Bengali, Hindi and Tamil
Leaving the area noisy with incessant chatter

Along the road that runs parallel to our house
Now speeds past, motors in unbroken row
Honking horns and raising a screen of smoky dust
Spoiling the ambiance of our verdant setting
And badly impairing the neat surroundings
But with every change of scene and setting
We, like nomads cannot change our stay or dwelling

Well acclimatized to all noise and commotion
We now stick to our home, our humble haven
And strive to create within an inner landscape
Not polluted by the ravages of time or clime

Home is the sanctuary where we roost and rest
A sweet dwelling, more than all mansions blest
And it should be an abode of love where hearts embrace
Every turn of life, grim or merry with no fuss but with grace

How sweet it is to dwell beneath this roof
Our wedded life’s enduring love’s living proof!

சொந்தங்களின் ஆழம் பிரிவில் தெரியும் ஏன்பர்....
ஆழம் ஏனும் அளவுகோல் நமக்கு அவசியய்ம் இல்லை... ஏனினும் இப்பிரிவின் பாரம் ஏனோ குறையவில்லை......
நீ அருகில் இருக்கையில்......
தனிமையிலும் என் அடையாளம் அறிந்தேன், இப்போது என் குடும்பத்துடன் இருக்கையிலும் துலைந்தே போகிறேன்...
தனிமையிலும் முழுமை கண்டேன்.. தற்போது தொழமையிலும் தனிமையே உனைர்கிறேன்.....
-உன் வருகை எனும் வசந்தம் வரும் நாளை நம்பி ஆறுதல் அடைகின்ற உன்னவள்....


i wrote this in tamil.. so the translation might not be so great..
here goes...

separation

the depth of a relationship is felt in separation...
we don't need any measurement of depth,
yet the pain of this separation is no less....
when you are near...
even in desolation i know my identity,now
even with my family i'm still lost...
i was complete even in desolation,now
i am lonely even in companionship..
- I am yours; awaiting the spring of your arrival

When I started my MBA
I was looking forward to making new friends
And of course, excelling in academics
And thus redeeming myself
After my Engineering debacle
However, it never occurred to me
That I would fall in love
For the first time in my life
You changed everything
Right from our second meeting
I was drawn towards you
You were very shy
But in a good way
And of course, extremely sweet-natured
The kind of person who wouldn't hurt a fly
Though you didn't know much Tamil
In spite of being a Tamilian
Your English more than made up for that
You didn't speak a lot
However, when you did speak
You were able to articulate your thoughts exceedingly well
And though we never had a detailed conversation
Apart from our debate on the movie "Ra One"
It was always a pleasure to interact with you
And of course, listen to your captivating voice
Last but not the least
Your handwriting was so exquisite
That it had the capability
To transform the dullest subject
Into an extremely fascinating one
Anyway, I truly loved you
But I couldn't muster the courage
To ask you out
However, I don't have any regrets whatsoever
And regardless of where you are currently
I hope you are having the time of your life
Just one last thing
I am utterly gobsmacked
That you knew all along
Something that I could never guess
From the way you spoke to me
Or behaved with me in general
You are indeed an incredible lady
And I hope you remain the way you are
Because the world needs more people like you

Swamp Tigers

No matter the monsoon rains that swished the tall grass
In the rivers journey downstream through
tea bushes on a symmetrical hill where
baskets dangled on nun  dressed heads
collecting  two buds and a burst of beauty
for tea bags.

Hidden in the dense foliage
Semtec strapped to her belly
She walked from bush to bush unafraid.
She had died many times before.

When gathered around counting tables
Her mind tripped as a childs cry found her heart
and she pulled the umbilical cord  to a bomb trigger.
and the muffled sound escaped
as the fifty mothers melted in the searing heat
and the factory flattened against the hillside
burning roasting tea and flesh together.

Deep in the jungle the Tiger growled
a low menace (of rejoicing?)

Other tamil tigers stalked the night in camouflage
jackets, strapping  other  mothers
to the savage sword of an enemy side.
Lost forever in the mayhem.

Author Notes
Its all over now. It happened once before the revolution faded against brutality.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

How would I like to be loved?
It is a very difficult question
Because, though I appear, at first glance
To be "The Guy Next Door"
The reality, I assure you, is entirely different
Firstly, every individual is different
Secondly, I am autistic
And finally
There is so much about me
That you will get to know
Only if you are a good friend of mine

How would I like to be loved?
Well, let me tell you
Love is not all about candlelight dinners
Nor is it about *** in the bedroom
It is about being there for each other
No matter what
If I truly love someone
I would be ready to go to jail for her
Of course, not if it is for something ethically wrong
But you get the idea

How would I like to be loved?
If you have seen the Tamil movie "Thiruchitrambalam"
Then you would understand
If I were to say
That I want someone to love me
The way Nithya Menen loved Dhanush
In that amazing movie

How would I like to be loved?
If you've seen me at my worst
One of those days
When I am in one of my rages
And keep shouting and breaking things
Or I lose my focus at work
Due to all my insecurities
Rearing their ugly heads
Or I simply drown myself in my thoughts
Refusing to come out of my bed
Or I cry like a child
Drowning myself in a tidal wave of self-pity
And you still love me the same
As you did when I was at my best
Then it is indeed true love
Enough said

How would I like to be loved?
When I hear one of Harris Jayaraj's romantic melodies
And can instantly relate to it
I know that I am in love
And that love is real, not reel

How would I like to be loved?
If you ask me how was my day
And I go on and on
Droning about the technicalities of my work
Or cribbing about various issues
Such as candidates, clients or my boss
And you never tire of listening to me
Then I know you are truly in love
Also, if I keep asking you how was your day
Every single day after work
And you never once tire of answering such a mundane question
If that is not true love
I don't know what is!
And on that note
It's time to wrap up this little monologue
And return to hard reality

I read the personal ads in the Indian magazine,
people looking for partners like a king and a queen,
the men are always handsome, ladies with gsoh,
how attractive they all were was just a rumour.

I replied to one which I thought might be fun,
we both agreed to meet to see what could be done:
She said, 'Your white, not brown.'
I said, 'That you must look lovely with your hair down.'

She asked: 'Do you speak Hindi, Tamil or Punjabi?'
I said, 'No, but you're speaking English - that's all I need to know,'
She asked, 'Do you own a house, have a good job and a car?'
I said, 'Yes,' to all but there was no bar.

We went for a ride in the country: We said, 'Yours or mine.'
We knew that it was best if we tried them one at a time.

Miserable lover,
didn't I warn you
in the beginning?



പ്രണയക്കുറിമാനം (5 W)

വ്യഥിതകാമിനീ ,
നിന്നോടിതു മുന്നറിയിപ്പായി 
ഞാൻ  ചൊന്നതല്ലയോ?
(In Malayalam)


காதல் குறிப்பு (6 words)

மாழ்கும் காதலி
உன்னிடம் நான்
முதலிலே எச்சரிக்கவில்லையா?
(In Tamil)

In the life
Before
The last
You
Were my murapennu

And me
A shepherd
From a village in Tamil Nadu.

Let’s forget
You don’t remember all that
But then, where is that nose stud
You had?



Translator - Shyma P