The merger!

Water, one of the dearest subject for Ripples and for me. Here is another dimension to water.

The water, in most forms, is rarely considered as the final stage and rather used as example to seeking the destiny in next stage. Like a river attaining destiny while reaching the sea, a drop attaining destiny by becoming a pearl, the drop on lotus leaf and so on..

The crust of earth is basically split into two, surface covered by water and land.

Just like the water being omnipresent in many ways, the land / soil could be represented in many many ways. Rocks, boulders, mountains, sand, soil and so on.

When water meets many of those, the water retains its nature as water, just as the other component retains its own nature. Or the reaction happens to one of them while the other remains the same.

Whereas when water meets a certain kind of soil, the water and soil bonds together and becomes mud, where the water attains the color of soil and the soil becomes almost liquid, losing its dry and solid state.

Thus, merged the heart of two, in love, inseparable and into one, by losing itself. And together they could be created into new formations, which isn’t possible to be attained by either water or soil independently.

This is the example given by an anonymous poet to describe love at first sight. And the richness of the thought paved way to name the poet after this example.

யாயும் ஞாயும் யாரா கியரோ,
எந்தையும் நுந்தையும் எம்முறைக் கேளிர்,
யானும் நீயும் எவ்வழி யறிதும்,
செம்புலப் பெயனீர் போல,
அன்புடை நெஞ்சம் தாங்கலந் தனவே.

-செம்புலப் பெயனீரார்.

What is my mother to yours?
How is my father relatednto yours? Although you and I knew not
each other in any way,
just as red earth and pouring rain:
the love-filled hearts merged.

(Kuruntokai – 40)

[https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuṟuntokai]

The lock that unlocks!

He was confused..

She was concerned..

He struggled within confines..

She struggled to break his cages..

He looked up to her for salvation..

She looked up to him with absolution..

He couldn’t find words to pour..

She couldn’t find words to coax them out..

As the words failed both of them,
The eyes spoke volumes..
She held him..
He gave in..
She locked him in her embrace..
He found himself unlocking..

The key to his locks,
Was long buried within
The gentle lock of her embrace..


Previously published here > https://aadhira.wordpress.com/2016/01/24/the-key-to-his-locks/

Aadhirai

This is indeed about my name. I have been asked several times about the meaning of my name and my lazy self decided to write a post once and share it henceforth! I could see you smirking at my laziness, but as ever, I couldn’t cut short the meaning into a line or two and I also think that the name deserves a post of its own. Hence, without further ado, here is the story of Aadhirai.

There are Five great epics in Tamizh literature. One of them is Manimekalai.

The title character, Manimekalai, has a special bowl, amutha surabhi (something similar to cornucopia), which gives food forever and it never empties, so she could feed the needy. When she received that bowl, it came with a condition. It will start repleting itself only if it receives alms from a person so pure and generous.

அமுத சுரபிக்கே அமுதிட்டவள் ஆதிரை.. That is Aadhirai. The one who gave alms to Amudha surabhi itself..

This is the first info I learnt about her and it made me search, What’s so special about her? And here’s her story. Continue reading

Wind Part 7

Wind - Part 7
Look at the tiny ant.
How tiny it is!
Within it tiny form, the physical parts of
   hands, legs, mouth, stomach and
   all other parts are proportionately set.
Who set it so? The great Shakti.
All those parts are doing there work properly.
The ant eats, sleeps, gets married,
   give birth to off springs, runs,
   searches, wages wars, saves/rules their nation.
The wind is the base for all these happenings.
The great Shakti plays the game of life using wind.
We sing about the Wind.
It stands as strength to the knowledge;
As likes and dislikes of the heart;
In the lives (of living things), life exists by itself.
In the (exterior) world (visible to the eyes),
   we know of its actions;
   (yet) we don't know (of all its actions).
We praise the Wind!

Note: This is the Part 7 of Bharathi’s Prose-Poetry titled “Kaatru”. Interested in the Series? Check here to read the previous parts! To read the original version in தமிழ் or in Transliterated version? Click here! And here’s a feast to the fans of Bharathi (with translation)


Does she have freedom?

He gave her free play
in a very very vast ground..
He boasted of the freedom,
he gave to her..

She realised her potential,
extending to horizons..
She silently resented her restrictions,
by him for her..

Wind Part 5 and 6

Wind - Part 5 & 6
5
Bheeman and Hanuman are said to be
 the off springs of Wind in the epics.
The Veda says, all living things are
 off springs of Wind.
Life is nothing but Wind.
Life is the form / object.
 Wind is the action.
Mother Earth is alive.
Her breath is the Wind surrounding the Earth.
Wind is Life. He kills lives.
Wind is Life. So life is not destroyed.
The smaller form or life merges
 with the eternal form.
 (The life of individual merges
  with the soul of the world)
There is no death.
The entire world is life-form.
Appearance, Growth, Change, Disappearance
 - All are stages / acts of life.
We praise the Wind.
6
Oh Wind, come!
Come, carrying the pollen drops,
 with sweet fragrance that mesmerises the heart.
Flow over the leaves and waves,
 and carry the essence of their soul to bring to us.
Oh Wind, come.
Flow nicely such that,
 the fire/warmth of our lives linger long
 and let the good light glow bright.
Don't extinguish it, as your power declines.
Don't kill it, by bashing like ghosts.
Keep flowing for a very long time, 
 slowly and with good rhythm.
We will sing songs on you.
We will keep praising you.
We will worship you.

Note: This is the Part 5 and 6 of Bharathi’s Prose-Poetry titled “Kaatru”. Interested in the Series? Check here to read the previous parts! To read the original version in தமிழ் or in Transliterated version? Click here! And here’s a feast to the fans of Bharathi (with translation)


Wind Part 3 and 4

Wind - Part 3 & 4
3
The base of Wind is Ear.
 Wind stands in the ears of the Shivan.
 If there is no wind, Shivan will not be able to hear.
 The Wind doesn't have ears.
 He is deaf.
 If he could hear, will he make such a racket?
 If he could hear, will he let the clouds clash with each other,
 _create thunders and be witnessing the show?
 If he could hear, Will he play by causing whirlwinds in the sea?
 We bow to the Wind, Sound, the Power.
4
Desert.
 Sand, Sand, Sand, For a very wide area, in all four sides,
 _there is levelled sand everywhere.
 Evening Time.
 Through that expanse of forest, over the camels,
 _a group of merchants are passing by.
 Vaayu (Wind) has become untameable / ferocious.
 The sands of the desert is rotating as a whirlwind in the mid sky.
 One moment, Pain of death, the entire group of merchants
 _get destroyed in the sand.
 Vaayu (Wind) is devious. He is anger-personified Rudran.
 His sound imparts fear.
 His acts are deadly.
 We praise the Wind.

Personal Note: The Part 3 talks so softly and explanatorily about the simple fact that Wind causes all the atrocities only because, he doesn’t have ears and he couldn’t hear the noises he creates. So it finds excuses for him and praises him. Whereas, in Part 4, once again the Wind’s darker side (Does Wind have sides at all?!) is put to light with its destruction of the group of merchants in the desert. How could someone find excuse as well as shows light on the executions of the same wind? Does Bharathi love wind beyond measure or what else could it be? Let us see what he comes up with in the next parts!


Note: This is the Part 3 and 4 of Bharathi’s Prose-Poetry titled “Kaatru”. Interested in the Series? Check here to read the previous parts! To read the original version in தமிழ் or in Transliterated version? Click here! And here’s a feast to the fans of Bharathi (with translation)


Autobiography of a Plagiarist

Disclaimer – This blog post is a work of fiction.

Some say truth triumphs! I had never experienced it until last winter! This change cleansed me and transformed me into a good individual. Some say that there is no difference between people who steal others things  and those who snatch others ideas. I had been doing that for my material gains.  Google turned out to be my best friend for it provided me everything that I desired. Being a blogger and an amateur writer, my mind constantly required to produce and reproduce several ideas. Most of the blogging sites that came up with  different blogging contests often came up with attractive and lucrative prizes  – iPad, iPhone, Kindle, Mac Books and various electronic gadgets. I seemed to have been blinded and smitten  by these prizes that I resort to snatching ideas.

5th November 2013 – was the day when blogger.com came up with a PAN level blogger contest. The winner of that contest was to be awarded an iPhone. ‘Human Heart Vs Human Brain – Measuring conflicts. What does the heart say when the brain says no?’ It was a  topic that had to be dealt with utmost sensitivity. I usually suck at writing such articles.  The prizes attracted my eyeballs. Gluttony hurts, it  kills!

I started thinking over the topic and my brain couldn’t conceive constructive ideas relevant to the theme of the contest. I was disappointed at the fact that I was turning creativity handicap. It was indeed challenging. Any writer wouldn’t succumb to an act that I did! I typed – Heart Vs Brain on the Google Search bar and I received numerous web links. I went through the websites one by one and accumulated points.  I jotted down the points and tried to put it on my own words.  While exploring few of those websites, my eyes grabbed the attention of a blog written by an American Teenager – Brenda Anderson.

“Heart is symbolic of emotions, feelings; attachments. It has its own reasoning which the mind may not approve of, probably because it lacks the evidence or arguments that prove it to be right. But has an understanding that assures it of not being wrong.
At times, the high EQ (emotional quotient) may overshadow the strong IQ.
The reason for it is simple when faced with a situation; our heart pulls us to one direction and the mind to the other. We don’t know which way to go this gives rise to a conflict that interferes with our ability to think rationally. There is no direction, just a dead point. We feel lost and our mind stops working, stops thinking and then we become totally dependent on what our heart tells us, after all, it’s our last resort.”

This was something that I was looking for! Spot it! I copied the entire post on my document and started working on it. I meticulously made good use of the thesaurus and changed meanings of certain complex words. I made its vocabulary easy to understand. I optimized it for an Indian audience.  The deadline for the blogger contest was approaching. Brenda Anderson was indeed a blessed girl. I explored her blog and it was the repository of literature work. Her works dealt with the highest level of art and literature. I envied her for some reason. She would have won several blogger contests if she were in India. Perhaps, at that moment, I never felt guilty publishing someone else’s article under my name and that too under PAN India level. I was feeling jubilant when I posted the link to the blogger page. I was quite sure that I would win. I had no traces of guilt in my heart. Weeks passed and even months!  The contest results were about to be announced.  Many people had appreciated that article that I had lifted from Brenda Anderson’s blog and no one had even the slightest doubt that it was a stolen one. I had received over 100 comments for that single blog post. People enjoyed reading it and they had scribbled genuine comments for that. It did make me smile!

But that night, I couldn’t sleep peacefully. My conscience knocked me hard to make me feel that I had done the biggest mistake of my life. It indicated me that this was a big shame. How could a person fall down to this level? It wanted to correct my mistake. I contemplated and thought over my act! But it seemed that the results were already announced. I was declared as the winner. I was entitled to get an iPhone. I was feeling guilty and my greed for material products had to be reprimanded. I was feeling low and disappointed.  Finally, I listened to what my heart said to me and contacted the organizers. I spilled the beans! I informed them that I had lifted the article from an American girl’s blog and modified it as per my needs. But that was an honest confession. I had tears in my eyes when I spoke all that to the organizers. The organizers discussed and decided to go with the results as announced. They had awarded me the prize for my honesty. I could have simply opted to conceal the truth, but my conscience didn’t let me sleep peacefully. For years to come, my heart would have been heavy with the guilt that would often remind me of the scar that it had left! But I acknowledged my conscience by doing something that it desired.  But it would have been inappropriate if I had accepted the prize. The organizers didn’t budge and I had to accept the prize.

Image is taken from here 

All the 100 plus comments that the blog post received belonged to that girl. It was the efforts of that American girl who deserved so many appreciations. I had just been a channel. I quickly added the link of her post to my blog post and added a line that my post had been inspired from Brenda’s blog post.

I quickly inspected her blog for her contact details. “You may want to let me know how you feel about my blog posts 🙂 How?  Write me at brenda.anderson7@live.com” It was mentioned at the right sidebar of the blog.

“Dear Brenda,

You might be wondering who this is. I would like to call myself as the greatest fan of Miss Brenda Anderson. Yes, I am a huge fan of your writing. I bumped across your blog through Google and I’m glad that I found it. Your articles have touched me deep! I would like to say something important. Last month I took part in a PAN India level contest and I had won it.  Please don’t get me wrong when I say that I had stolen ideas and points from your blog. I had lifted it. I’m feeling ashamed because of my act. Check this link – virtualstroller.blogspot.com/heartvsmind. All the comments on this blog post are meant for you.  Kindly forgive me. Please provide me your address.

Yours Truly,
Sankit”

I waited for her reply. Finally, two days later she replied me.

“Dear Sankit,

I’m so happy that you won the blogging contest. I’m indeed very happy for you. Thank you for all the kind words in the last email. That was sweet of you :). You don’t need to be sorry. You had taken my blog post and I’m glad you won it. It was nice going through the various comments in the blog post in the link that you had sent me. You are a nice soul, Sankit! Please do not say that you had stolen my blog post. : )  I have blog rolled you and consider me as a regular reader of your blog. You too do the same and yes whenever you read my post do leave some nice comments 😛 And my address is –

2411, Andersons Avenue, AV, Green Park, GA, Atlanta 30301, USA

Stay in touch, Sankit! Xoxox

Take Care,
Brenda ”

I was so happy to read all that. I quickly parceled the iPhone to her. I was not the right owner to that Apple product.  Initially, she refused to accept it. But after insisting she accepted it. We soon turned out to be good friends.  Yes, Truth indeed Triumphs! Sometimes you just need to be true to yourself. Sometimes you just need to listen to your heart. It’s an offense to steal others creativity!

————————————————————–

Friends, many times we knock Google’s door for ideas when our brain refuses to produce adequate necessary desired ideas. I feel disheartened to see and hear such things. My heart hurts when I read my blogger friends writing statuses on Facebook citing their plagiarized blog posts. Trust me that it is something that hurts any blogger. Who would like their blog post to be snatched? Remember that a plagiarist is no different than a thief. The difference is that a plagiarist steals others ideas while a thief steals products.  A plagiarist could steal someone’s blog post, but they can never steal someone’s creativity! Dear Plagiarists – Please do not hurt creative souls here. Your conscience will hurt you and you would live a life of guilt! If you go on to get inspired by someone’s work then do let the article owner know about this and you could link their blog post to yours. That would be a kind gesture. While using an image from Google, do give credits to the  image owner. This blog post might be a work of fiction, but this might be true for many of you out here! Stay blessed my creative people!


There are two ways to present a thought of others. You could get inspired and just spin the thought in your own unique wrap and present it to others. Or just share the post as is, just like I am doing here! This is a post written by my friend Stephen in his blog The Solitary Writer. He has been blogging for the past decade on various topics. His range of writings include fiction, political satire, Cricket Commentary, Social Issues, Reviews and many more. Do check out his blog for a perfect potpourri and you would surely find something to your taste, irrespective of your taste.

Wind Part 2

Wind - Part 2
Middle of the sea. A lone ship.
  Fierce stormy wind, as if the skies has unleashed their anger.
  The tides are high. It splatters ferociously.
  It explodes as it crashes.
  It plunders.
The Ship wobbles;
  It is moved in the force of the lightning;
  It crashes against a rock.
  Massacre!
  Two hundred lives perished.
  Before they perished, they realised
  the experience, of what the perishing of the era entitles.
  The end of eon will also be like this.
  The earth will be amassed with water; Hot boiling water.
  Sakthi will become the wind.
  Sivan will be furious.
  The world will seem to be one.(??)
  And that one will be Sakthi.
  And Sivan will be behind the Sakthi.
The Wind moves the ropes tied in the roofs. He pours life into them.
  The Wind shows whirlpools to water,
  adds lightning to the Sky,  
    Transforms water to fire,
    Transforms fire to water,
    Transforms water to dust,
    Transforms dust to water
    And wreaks havoc.
  The Wind brings apocalypse.
  The Wind protects.
  Let the Wind protect us.
  "Salutations to Vayu, the Lord of winds.
   You are the visible representation
   of the ultimate reality, Brahman."

Personal Note: You would better understand this personal note, if you have read the part 1 here. In the first part, the Wind was praised as the life-force and the life-giver. Now, the same Wind, which animates a piece of rope by blowing life into it, massacres 200 lives, just with a whoosh.

The first part was filled with tender love between the ropes and was so soft and elegant in its grace. Here, the same Wind has become ferocious and uncontainable. The emotions that flow through this part is more of anger, fear, ferociousness, wrath, demise, massacre et al. What a contrast and how versatile the Wind is.

The Wind brings apocalypse.
The Wind protects.
Let the Wind protect us


 

Note: This is the Part 2 of Bharathi’s Prose-Poetry titled “Kaatru”. Interested in the Series? Check here to read the previous part! I have taken up the liberty to restructure the lines for the ease of reading and using few easier common terms over the literal meaning. Would you like to view the notes on translation or To read the original version in தமிழ் or in Transliterated version? Click here! And here’s a feast to the fans of Bharathi (with translation)


Wind

Wind - Part 1
In the porch of the house is a roof.
  Thatched roof,
  with coconut leaves.
There are seven-eight bamboo pipes,
  set in  criss-cross and
  held together with ordinary jute rope,
  and over them, the thatched coconut leaves are spread.

A small excess of rope was hanging
  from one of the bamboo pipe.
  A foot-long rope.
One day, This rope was happily swinging.
  It doesn't seem to have even a silly worry.
Sometimes, it will look forlorn and hangs still.
  It doesn't even answer, when called.
Today it wasn't like that.
  Looked jolly-good.

The rope and I, are friends.
  We often talk to each other.

“If you talk to a rope, Will it reply?”
  Try talking to it,
  to find whether it replies or not.

But you have to start the conversation,
  when it's happy.
Otherwise, it will frown and be tight-lipped,
  like women.
Whatsoever, the rope in this home speaks.
  There's no doubt in that.

Did I say one rope?
  There are two ropes.
  One is one-foot long.
  The other is three-fourth of a foot long.
One male;
  Other female;
  Man and wife.

They both were looking at each other
  with amorous looks, and
  were exchanging coy  smiles, 
  bantering about sweet nothings,
  they were lost in love.
That is when, I reached there.

The male rope is named ‘Kandan.'
  The female rope is named ‘Valliyammai.’
(Just like people, small ropes can also be named.)

Kandan tries to hold Valliyammai.
  Valliyammai backs a little.
In that particular moment, I reached there.

I asked, “What Kanda, are you fine? 
  Maybe I came at the wrong moment, is it? 
  Shall I come back later?"

For which, Kandan said,
  "Ah come on, you old man! 
  What shyness in front of  you? 
  What Valli, are you angry that,
  this Iyer was witnessing our courting?"

“Fine, fine, don't ask me anything”, said Valliyammai.

For that, Kandan laughed aloud clapping hands,
  jumped and hugged Valliyammai,
  all while I was standing just there.
Valliyammai started screeching.
  But, Valliyammai was also enjoying,
  secretly.
Aren't we happy when others see, how happy we are?

I was also content in watching their show,
  what's the crime in saying the fact?
  Witnessing the intimacy of young love
  brings such a great joy, isn't it?

Since Valliyammai started screeching louder,
  Kandan left her alone.

After few moments, he caressed her again. 
  Again a screech, again the freeing;
  Again a caress, again a screech;
  this kept on continuing.

“What's this Kanda,
  you don't seem to be interested
  in saying a word to this visitor, 
  I'll come back after some time,
  shall I leave?” I asked.

“Come on, oldie, aren't you just watching us.
  Stay on for little more time.
  I've few affairs to finish with her.
  After I finish that,
  I am thinking of having a discussion
  with you on certain topics.
  Don't go away. Stay”, it said.
I stood there and kept watching.

After a while, the damsel,
  in the glaze of happiness,
  dropped her shyness,
  even forgetting that,
  I was still standing there.

Immediately a song.
 Elegantly broken pieces.
 Every line with its own tune.
 Just a couple of varaitions.
 Then another song.
As Kandan finished singing, it was Valli's turn.
 After one finished, the other one.
 Singing one after another -- Immense joy!

For some time, they keep singing,
  while standing apart, without touching.
  Then Valliyammai will go herself to caress Kandan.
  He comes to hug. She runs.
  Immense Joy!

Valliyammai got giddy with happiness
  as this continued for a long time.

I was thirsty, went to the next house to drink water,
  to quench my thirst. Both the ropes didn't notice my leaving.

When I came back and saw,
  Kandan was waiting for me,
  while Valliyammai slept.
As soon as  seeing me,
  “Where did you go, old man!
  You left without goodbye”, it said.
I asked, “Seems like madam is sleeping deeply”

Aaha! at that moment,
  The rope exploded and
  before me appeared the Lord
  and how can I express His greatness in words?

The Lord of Winds appeared.

I had always presumed that,
  His form would be broad and ballooned.
  But, His form was like a diamond needle,
  glowing brightly.

"Salutations to Vayu, the lord of winds.
 You are the visible representation of the ultimate reality, Brahman.
 I affirm that you are indeed the visible form of Brahman"
 Hail thy wind. You are indeed the visible form of Brahmam.

When he appeared,
  the skies were filled
  with the life-force's power
  and the warmth was spreading all around.

I worshipped Him a thousand times,
  with my tributes.

The Lord of Wind sayeth: -- 
   "My son, What did you ask?
   Are you asking whether
   the small rope is sleeping?
   No. It is dead.
   I am the life-force's power.
   The body / form, that is related to me, is active.
   Which doesn't relate to me is corpse.
   I am the life-force.
   Because of Me,
   that small rope was alive;
   had experienced pleasure.
   After it got a bit tired,
   I let it sleep -- die.
   Sleep is death. Death is but a sleep.
   They both do not exist where I am present.
   I will come back in the evening and blow.
   It will come back to life again. 
I awaken it. Animate it. I am the son of power, Worship me and live."

"Salutations to Vayu, the Lord of winds.
 You are the visible representation of the ultimate reality, Brahman.
 I affirm that You are indeed the visible form of Brahman"


 

Note: This is the Part 1 of Bharathi’s Prose-Poetry titled “Kaatru”. Interested in the Series? Check here to know more about it! I have taken up the liberty to restructure the lines for the ease of reading and using few easier common terms over the literal meaning. Would you like to view the notes on translation or To read the original version in தமிழ் or in Transliterated version? Click here! And here’s a feast to the fans of Bharathi (with translation)


Pillaiyar And Peter Jones

Kalaiselvan and Peter Jones were studying together in the same class since first standard. So when they shifted Peter Jones to another section of fifth standard, Kalaiselvan couldn’t stop his crying and he cried so hard and got himself sick.

Peter consoled Kalai, saying that, though we are in different sections, we are still in same school and so we could still go and come back from school together. Yet, Peter felt something amiss when he had to go to school alone on that day.

A small void. A tiny inconvenience. Peter felt as if he forgot something. So he stopped on the way, by a neem tree and checked his bag. His maths note, geometry box and everything else was in his bag. The only thing missing was his friend Kalai. He resumed walking with his bag till he reached the temple pond.

He stopped at the temple pond for some reason. That’s where his friend Kalai performs his morning prayer ritual of Thoppukaranam (Sit ups as a form of prayer) before the statute of the big bellied Elephant Lord Pillaiyaar. Peter dropped his bag nearby and went to kneel down before Pillaiyaar.

Shenbagam, who was fetching water from the pond noticed this and gently smiled. She said, ‘Dear Peter, this is not Christ, this is Pillaiyaar. Here the form of prayer is with Thoppukaranam and not by kneeling down.’ Peter hadn’t noticed her till then. But he just threw a glimpse at her and continued looking at the statute.

He said sternly that, he hasn’t come here to pray, as he opened his lunch box. He slowly opened it with bit of struggle and took few grains of rice from the lunch and kept it near the small ant hills next to the statute of Pillaiyaar.

Peter continued saying to her, ‘Kalai keeps food daily for these ants. If he doesn’t keep, the ants will be hungry right? To keep food for them only I came here.’

In the next few seconds, neither Peter, who had been walking back gloriously, covering all the void, nor Shenbagam, who had gone speechless and stood like a statute with his reply, or even the ants, which were busily dragging the grains to their homes, did not notice, that the statute of Pillaiyaar was kneeling down in the sand there!


பிள்ளையாரும் பீட்டர் ஜோன்சும்…

ஒன்றாம் வகுப்பிலிருந்து ஒன்றாகவே படித்த உயிர்த்தோழன் பீட்டர் ஜோன்சை தன்னிடமிருந்து பிரித்து ஐந்தாம் வகுப்பு ‘B’ செக்‌ஷனில் போட்டுவிட்டதைச் சொல்லி அழுது அழுது காய்ச்சலே வந்துவிட்டது கலைச்செல்வனுக்கு.”செக்‌ஷன் மாத்திட்டாங்கதான் ஆனாலும் நாம சேர்ந்தே தானே ஸ்கூலுக்கு போகப்போறோம் ? மறுபடியும் வீட்டுக்கு வரும்போதும் சேர்ந்தே வருவோம்” என்று சிரித்துக்கொண்டே சொன்ன பீட்டருக்கும் இன்று தனியாக நடந்து பள்ளிக்கூடம் செல்வது கொஞ்சம் வருத்தமாகவே இருந்தது, ஏதோ ஒரு வெற்றிடம்,மனதிற்குள் ஒரு சின்ன உறுத்தல்.எதையோ மறந்துவிட்டதைப்போன்ற ஒரு உள்ளுணர்வு.பக்கத்து வேப்பமரத்தடியில் பையை இறக்கி வைத்து கணக்கு நோட்டு,ஜாமெண்டரி பாக்ஸ் எல்லாவற்றையும் எடுத்தாகிவிட்டதா என்று சரிபார்த்தான் பீட்டர், எல்லாமே இருந்தது இல்லாதது அவன் நண்பன் கலை மட்டும்தான்.மீண்டும் பையை மாட்டிக்கொண்டு நடக்க ஆரம்பித்தவன் ஏனோ அந்த கோவில் குளத்தைக் கடக்காமல் நின்றுவிட்டான்.

அங்கே தினமும் கலைச்செல்வன் தோப்புக்கரணம் போட்டு கும்பிடும் தொப்பை கணபதி சிலைவரை வேகமாக ஓடிப்போய் பையை கழற்றிவைத்துவிட்டு மரத்தடி பிள்ளையார் சிலைக்கு முன் முட்டி போட்டுக்கொண்டான்.இதை பார்த்ததும் கோவில் குளத்தில் தண்ணீர் எடுத்துக்கொண்டிருந்த செண்பகம் மாமிக்கு இதழோரமாய் கசிந்தது ஒரு சின்ன புன்னகை“ஏண்டாப்பா பீட்டர் இது கர்த்தர் சிலை இல்லடா கணபதி சிலை,இங்க் தோப்புக்கரணம்தான் போடணும் முட்டி போட்டு கும்பிட வேண்டாம் ” என்றார் மாமி.அவரை அதுவரை கவனிக்காத பீட்டர் இப்பொழுதுதான் கவனித்தான் ஆனாலும் ஒரு நொடியில் மீண்டும் சிலையை நோக்கி திரும்பிக்கொண்டான்.வேகமாக தன் சாப்பாட்டுக்கூடைக்குள் கையை விட்டு துழாவிக்கொண்டே “நான் இங்க ப்ரேயர் பண்ண வரல” என்று தீர்க்கமாக சொன்னவன் டிபன் பாக்சை வெளியிலெடுத்து மெதுவாக தன் பல் இடுக்கில் வைத்து நெம்பி அதிலிருந்து சில பருக்கைகளைக் கையிலெடுத்து அந்த பிள்ளையார் சிலையைச் சுற்றி இருந்த சின்னச் சின்ன எறும்புப் புற்றுகளுக்கு முன் வைத்துவிட்டு மீண்டும் மாமியிடம் சொன்னான் “கலை இங்க தினமும் சாப்பாடு வைப்பான், இன்னைக்கு வைக்காம விட்டா எறும்பு பாவம்தான? பசிக்குமே,..அதுக்குதான் வந்தேன்”.அடுத்த ஐந்தாவது நொடி வெற்றிடங்களையெல்லாம் நிறப்பிக்கொண்டவனாய் எழுந்து நடந்துகொண்டிருந்த பீட்டரோ ,என்ன சொல்வதென்று தெரியாமல் குடத்தோடு குளத்தருகில் சிலையாகிப்போன மாமியோ,அவ்வளவு ஏன் ஒரு சோற்றுப்பருக்கையை கூட்டுக்குள் இழுக்க பிரம்ம ப்ரயத்தனப்பட்டுக் கொண்டிருந்த அந்த எறும்போ கூட கவனிக்கவே இல்லை இப்பொழுது மண் திட்டின் மேல் முட்டி போட்டிருந்த அந்த பிள்ளையார் சிலையை !


This is a story written by my friend Kavi Ilaval Tamil and posted as Facebook Update. He writes amazing Tamil verses and has a published book “Yaathumaagi ninren” to his credit.

I liked the story and I couldn’t resist sharing it. Hope you too enjoyed the story. Do post your views in the comments.

Fall in love!

Here’s the day when Love is in the air and the text of ‘I Love You’ floats all around. So here’s a dissection of that ‘I Love You’ on who deserves to hear it!

I Love you!
What is you?
No it wasn’t
Who’s that you?
It is aptly
What is you?

It is the feeling
Of belonging
The mirage of
Togetherness
The pretense of
Being the one
It is the gravity of
What you wish it to be

Love is the sense of
Losing yourself
Changing yourself
Molding yourself
Trimming yourself
Growing yourself
Grooming yourself
Behaving yourself
In the name of
Someone else
Yet without feeling
Any pain, remorse
Or even a least resistance!

Can you do all these
Without the push
From external force
Or the external gravity?

When you say yes,
You are self motivated
And on the path of victory
For you are in love
With yourself!!

Can you even
Lift the mountains
For someone else,
But not even
The tip of nail
For yourself?
Go fall in love..
Not with anyone
But with the feel of love!

You could attach it
To the person’s being,
But make sure of this..
Don’t tamper the life
Of another soul
Just bcoz You attached
Your Love to that soul

It is because,
You aren’t in love
With the person,
Just on the person
That is the mirage..
There’s the pretense..

True love,
If and when exists
Doesn’t have
Mirage, but miracles
For it’s mutual
In the feel and
At the time
Amidst both!

It’s easy to fall
For love
Than
To fall
In love
With the one!

Let the power of love
Nurture the soul
But not murmur it
Even to the YOU in
I Love you,
When you are in love
with the Love
Rather than You!!

Will you give away?

Once there was a tiny girl living happily in her little world. She had a beautiful doll as her companion and the doll had accompanied her to every single place she had been to. One day, she was strolling in the aisles of a mart, with her mother on her trail. Of course, her doll was accompanying her as always.

At the other end of the trail, she saw a kid and just as a kid could do, she went and poked him to get his attention too. He was rather busy trying to control his tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Without any thought of hesitation, she wiped away his tears and asked ‘why are you crying?’

There is a whole new world in the twinkling eyes of a kid!

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He looked around as if he was looking for someone. Then he softly replied to her, “My dad says my sister won’t come home from the hospital. I don’t want her to leave me. I love her so much. You know, She looks beautiful than you. She is just tiny like your doll. But she smiles at me and winks at me, you know.”

The talk about the sister seems to have stopped the tears and even brightened up his face with a smile. The smile was reflected in the little girl’s face. She said, “Really? Your sister smiles and winks? My doll never does that to me, even when I give her all she asks for. But my mom says, she is just a doll. So really a baby smiles?”

He replied, “Yes, she also cried lots and pukes food. But I like to play with her when she smiles.”

The girl said, “My mom says, there is going to be a kid in our home too. Will the baby smile and play like your sister?”

“Yes, all kids do that, my friend said so”

“Then I will play with the baby too.”

He went back to near tears again and said, “I can’t play with her anymore”

She too looked sad and without any reply, left and went to her mom. She asked, “Mom, can I give my Pinky to that boy?”

The mother was astonished at the request to part with her most favourite doll. She asked, “I can’t even get it away from you while you sleep, now you are asking me to give it away? What happened dear?”

“Ma, he said that, his sister has gone away and can’t play with her anymore. He is crying for her. We will have a baby soon in our house right? I will play with the baby and he can have my pinky.”

She was baffled by the compassion from her little toddler and was speechless for a moment. Then she said, “Come let’s find out whether he will take your pinky home.”

The key to his locks

He was confused..

She was concerned..

He struggled within confines..

She struggled to break his cages..

He looked up to her for salvation..

She looked up to him with absolution..

He couldn’t find words to pour..

She couldn’t find words to coax them out..

As the words failed both of them,
The eyes spoke volumes..
She held him..
He gave in..
She locked him in her embrace..
He found himself unlocking..

The key to his locks,
Was long buried within
The gentle lock of her embrace..

He, She and their little heaven

The day started like every other day, with no indication that, it’s gonna be any different from every other day.

But it was not every other day.
For the day is trying in every way to top the worst fifty days in her memory with everything going wrong.

She was totally relieved to step back into the open from her office and went home, hoping things won’t get any worse, as she was expecting her sweetheart to be back home today after his week-long official trip.

That hope faded a little seeing the still closed door and the empty home filled just with chaos. She tangled herself to the work of untangling the chaos, for she couldn’t sit still and dwell on the misfortunes of the day.

Time ticked away. The mobile chimed to let her know of the message, that his flight was delayed by few hours. So he could come home only around dinner time.

She was done with the charade of setting right the chaos. She was thoroughly exhausted and drained of cheer and liveliness by the end of the day..

She was trying hard to stay awake to meet and greet her love.. Hence, she was cleaning up more and more.. She was done with almost everything and was, at last, cleaning the dishes..

The smell came first, of her favourite roses and lilacs and of him, his perfume and his sweat.. With that came two hands around her..

She was startled for a fraction of second at the contact, but immediately a warmth and the feel of home washed over her..

She just let herself slide on him and was gloriously basking in the comfort of his hug..

He gently lifted her and carried over to their bed and saw her face as if he is seeing her for the first time and totally mesmerised with it..

There was a very long conversation without words and without language.. He just stared into her eyes.. Her eyes were willing to pour out volumes and his eyes just drank every drop of those volumes and returned all the comfort she needed..

He just held her face in both his palms, while he gently caressed her forehead with his lips..

That’s all she needed to set her world right and let go of every negative thing that happened to her ever..

She was present in that moment in an entirely different universe.. Where there are just two people.. Him and her.. Not even Cupid.. The place was catering to all their whims and wishes..

In that universe, her everyday dinner table has transformed into one of the most romantic tables set for a perfect candlelit dinner..

Her normal menu of some common dish tasted better than the manna of heaven for two reasons..

It was prepared for him by her and it was fed to her by him..

They never knew who had what, but they do know they are satiated of hunger for food but nowhere near saturation of each other..

The silent words that spoke volumes were not enough to express few silly things.. So came the sweetest voice of him..

The happenings and mishaps of the week were exchanged.. But the words could never express fully how much each missed the other one..

They found themselves in their favourite sit-out at their favourite time of early night..

The naughty moon, which never gets tired of shamelessly sneaking into the most private moments of young lovers and becoming part of those moments, was once again sneaking into the beauty of this young couple..

He was relaxing on the chair and he grabbed her to sit on his lap.. She happily cuddled like a kid on his chest and was listening to his soothing voice..

The rhythmic heart beats added a nice background music to his voice and was lulling her to sleep..

She was half aware of the chilly air and his warm hug and half existing in a dream land where there are no commitments, no alarm clocks or even clocks..

The time had no meaning in that universe.. The only one that mattered in the universe was, he was next to her.. Within the reach of other, within the grasp of other, with intertwined fingers around the other..

She realised that she found her heaven.. It’s not with any of her materialistic successes.. It’s just the interlaced fingers of him..

She realised that she found her perfect song.. It’s not by any musician performing on any stage.. It’s just the rhythmic heart beats sprinkled with his words in his velvet voice..

She realised that she found her drug.. It’s not that incapacitating her senses.. It’s just his embrace that fills in every sense of her and not incapacitate but enrich them with pleasure unknown hitherto.

She realised that she had the best gift.. It’s not that she never before appreciated the presence of him.. It’s just that a small separation, even though for unavoidable reasons, makes you realise the treasure you behold..

With that realisation, she drifted off along with him.. To the dream land or oblivion is known only to them..

The naughty moon went silent and shy, for it knew that, here is one of the very few couples, who find their salvation only in each other and the time would prove that, they are beyond the tests and trials of life..

The moon knew, it could come after few decades and still see that both are being satiated with each other..

And with that knowledge, the moon went to sleep in its star-studded bed and grabbed few clouds to cuddle for the night.

The Day everything changed!

Here I got a blog to my name and gained few dear friends, to be honest critics. What better place would I have to experiment with my story writing? So here is my experiment with story writing. Brace yourself and dive in. And when you surface back, do drop in a word about what you liked and what could be bettered. Awaiting your comments!!


It was the wake of a gloomy day in a cozy bed. Perfect climate for snuggling in the blankets and extending the sleep. Wondering the time, her hands grasped for her mobile. Though she missed seeing the time, she did not miss the notification of the text from him.

Within a jiffy, she was wide awake. The text simply read “Hi“. Not another single character. Yet every single cell in her was jumping up and down. Her heart beat started to pulse up, to compensate for the missed beats of two seconds.

As the blood started to settle, the mind whisked away the clouds and noted the time. The time of the text, then the current time, which was just a two-minute gap. Her hands on auto mode typed “Hi..” and hit send.

The message was sent, delivered and read within the next two seconds. The somewhat alert mind started to churn the wheels with the numerous questions bursting to ebb out through her fingers. She came back to the surface when the next text appeared on her screen.

Am I disturbing you?

Is high pulse, fast flow of blood, dilated pupils, whirring mind any sign of disturbance? Definitely not, said the brain to her hands on a side line and hence she had already replied Nope to him.

Can you come over here?
At what time?
At your convenience, earlier the better.
Will be there in half an hour..
See you then.
See you then..

With the mobile in her hands, she was just staring at the screen. Her brain is yet to grasp what just happened. He wants me to come over to his home in half an hour and the drive from here to his home is fifteen minutes. Her brain was efficiently multi-tasking. That is, the thinking part kept pouring in the past and present, which confirmed there were very scarce message conversations between them. If and when they happened, it is over call. This just made her get ready quicker. While she was locking up to leave, she noted that she was wearing the dress he was fond of.

She was on super auto mode if at all possible on the road. When her senses decided to wide awake, she was safely parked in his parking lot. But she failed to note that his bike was missing from the usual spot. Since her thinking has got a direction of its own, she just decided to go with whatever happens, partly because she couldn’t think of anything else sensibly.

His gate was wide open and the things were scattered and out of place. That was too unusual for him. Her pulse quickened once again. As she rushed in, she saw him in his bed. He was weak, pale and sweating. He started to sit up as soon as she came into his view.

She rushed to hold him and as soon as she embraced, he started to sob uncontrollably. And in between sobs, he told her how he met with an accident last night as he skidded in the road. There were just minor scratches yet he was scared. And having a high temperature wasn’t helping either.

As she was holding him, all her doubts, questions and every bit of anger she had on him melted away as tears. As the tears flowed, the clouds of her thinking too melted. She consoled him just by her presence, more than her words.

She remembered how strong he was even when he met with the fracture few months back. She asked him what was the real reason for his breaking down to tears, just with the simplest of words. He shivered once. And was going into a state of shock. He could not string the words together.

She just held him dearly with all the love to wrap him up and helped him back to coherence. He started with stammer and then the words took the flow to say this:
When I fought with you last week, I didn’t even realize what you ever meant to me. I have been enjoying your company and had taken so many things for granted. Starting with the simple ‘How was the day’ at the end of the day to share my deepest secrets, you were there for me. There were too many times, you have answered my unasked questions and I was never left wanting. But just a week apart from you was hell. I literally could not live with myself in the past one week. I thought I will never meet you again when I was skidding through. I am very sure this time that, I could not even look forward in my life without you. Will you be part of it? As a part of my life? As my wife?

And he popped the little jewel box, with slight scratches from his pocket.

Tears were flowing from her eyes, but this time from the sheer joy. She was once again lost for words, in the happiness. As the tears caressed her cheeks, a smile dug a single dimple in her cheek. He got his answer buried in that dimple, and he got the rest of his life to fathom the depth of her love.