The little big talk

Sendhan collects flowers everyday and gives it to the temple while Amudhan is a Mathematician. On a silent day, early in the morning, Amudhan sits on the banks of a river enjoying the mild melodies of flowing stream with whirls, and birds flying with charming dexterity, while Sendhan is chanting “Manthra” within, dipping his head into the river.
He raises his head and sees Amudhan. “Aren’t they beautiful?” he asks.
“Indeed my friend. They are!”.
“Hows your research going?”
“Going… like those clouds passing by,
Sometimes they shed rain and,
At times they make me go dry”
“I like this you know. The thing you people are doing, opening ignorant minds. I like this.”
“Interesting to hear,
As we doubt on things that you fear.
It’s our opinion and we make it a fact,
With logic and evidence intact!”
“But still I’m doing this like a hypocrite, been doin this for nearly three decades. Couldn’t give up you know!”
“All of a sudden, may be hard to give up,
But with shear will, control your own emotions.
Overcome! And with cheer, you’ll stand up!
‘Master your emotions’- says a few of your philosophies themselves!”
“How come you appreciate religious philosophies, changed your mind, or is it changing like mine?”
“I have already torn off the theo (‘sacred’) tag,
And there are also fallacies I ignore.
With time they only lag.
They are mere books
And can’t fool around anymore!”
“I use to make fun of you remember, ‘being a mathematician is of no use’. With pompous feel, I used to pick flowers, thinking I serve the humanity directly. But nothing happens. Now I slowly realize, I’m of no use now.”
“All this you realized already.
Your guts took its time to utter,
And to make your mind calm and steady.
Now don’t you feel sorry and bitter.”
Sendhan, determined, smiles. While Amudhan still looks at the bird, thinking, contemplating may be.

When fear grips every nerve…

I walk across a cold desert
Crossing it, I reach for the rocky shores
Of an endless sea, a marvelous art
On which I wish I spread across
Every inch of my body and float
In the starlight, for an infinite amount of time.
Wondering so, I stand still
While my heart feels a bell chime,
Causing a charming momentary thrill.
Its from a temple nearby I realize.
May be born out as a tribute to
The one that sculptured this magnificent art?
May be that one exists, I never know.
Asking myself, what if it exists, closing my eyes
I follow my thought along with the rhythms of waves
That touch my ears, exhibiting a grand opera.
As I go deeper thinking of it, I feel the fear
Of it gripping my every nerve, the fear
Of all waves swallowing me, the fear
Of all rocks crushing the every bone in me, the fear
Of the wind taking me away and burying me in sand,
Engulfing all of my life’s cheer.
I can do nothing but put all faith in it and pray!
How dreadful, this world of torture, this dismay!
How dreadful!

The God, a disappointment!

While those morning birds chirped,
The melody of it, softly gripped
The six-year-old prince’s tender ears.
“Wake up! Wake up!” shouted his sister
Grabbing his nose gently, rolling it like a twister
Laughing, with a hollow between her lips
As she had lost two of her precious milk teeth.
He opened his eyes like a flowering bud and woke up.
Looking into her, suddenly he pinched her thigh
And on his heels, he started to fly.
Stretching her little arms she then started chasing him.
A fair child’s play went on glorifying the very morning.
Running around the tables, diving on the bed,
Crawling beneath the sofa, they ran.
He then stepped out of his house
To extend the marvelous game and so did she.
But the chasing stopped with a yell
The reason, in their clan they tell
“A female should never step out, for God’s grace!”
Saying so, shouted their father at her
Making her to sit in a corner!
The prince stood still at the entrance,
While his thoughts, slowly
Imbibed those rules making his mind bend to them.
He was sent to a sacred school everyday,
Was made to obey whatever others say.
He was taught all about a book and
All he learned was to follow the rules wholly,
That were written a long ago, calling it the Holy!
A year passed, one day,
Folding the arms gripping herself tightly
With her head buried between her knees
Legs shivering and body trembling without ease
After hours of screaming out of pain
She sat at the corner of the room again
He just entered from school stood appalled,
At the entrance looking at his sister
With blood stains on her flowery yellow skirt,
Who was hunted right from birth!
“A mutilation for His sake”, he was told.
Those clutches called the Holy
Fastened his neck clinging on to his throat wholly!
Without a word, while screaming within
He sat nearby, with a trembling chin!
And after a decade, today,
The shades of those nightmares
Reaches his mind, offering an awkward pain,
As the bloody childhood memories regain.
Ever since he was a boy, he would always wonder
Only a profound mighty soldier
And his gorgeous sister
Could make up a good pair
Which could never come true now,
As she is to become an old man’s fourth wife.
While those rules stamp his one last desire
The siblings weep in deep despair.
Having grown in a timid way,
Obeying whatever others say,
Poor him can only believe in blind faith!
Sitting in a closet of darkness,
He then prays, pleads, begs, the Lord,
Only to find everything ignoring his calls.
With raging disappointment he takes a knife
Cutting his pulsating arteries
Having lost all of his life’s bliss
With pain, sorrow and fear, like a drunken bard
He travels to his own world.
Lying on the floor, he curls his own body,
Like a feather, he starts to float, in blood.
Closing his eyes,
Seeing his dear little sister,
Taking a life’s breath with regret,
Gently, into the engulfing darkness, he flies,
With chirping birds saying good-byes.