The writing.

The writer
Read all owned books,
Researched in the library,
Surfed the internet,
Listened to scholars,
Discussed with friends,
Observed the world around,
Travelled far and wide,
Learnt people’s customs,
And almost everything
That crossed his path..

While he wrote,
His pen would glide on paper,
Pausing only between words
For the requirement of space
Rather than for the thought,
And to refill the ink
But not to replenish the idea..
There was no draft,
What was written is final,
For there were no changes to be made..
There were no crossings,
No strike outs,
No rephrasing,
No corrections..
The text written was
Properly aligned
And filled just that page..
No more, No less..

The writing style
Is called impromptu,
By most people..
But is it really so?

Isn’t the thoughts
Bettered, cultured and educated
All through the past living?

So is there anything
Which is what it really is?!

And now you, the reader,
Have added a tiny note to your thought,
Consciously or unconsciously..
Which would reflect
Maybe in the very next thing you write,
Or just lay hidden as the seed,
To grow into a nourished thought,
And spread it’s essence
In a far future writing..
Which might even be titled
Impromptu! 😉

[Thanks to Mr.Hari for an awesome prompt for this post. Now I would like to extend the challenge of finding the given prompt for this post.. 😉 And the winner gets to provide the next prompt.. 😀]

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I

I am the centre of my universe,
I am a tiny speck in the universe…

I drown in guilt with deadlines,
I procrastinate like no other…

I live here in the present,
I lose myself in memories…

I believe life is beautiful,
I dread waking up in morning…

I wonder what next,
I wander into past…

I am just a caterpillar,
I am the exquisite butterfly…

I wake up earlier somedays,
I sleep in till noon at times…

I am so organised with few,
I am most chaotic at many…

I dish out counsel, as if I conquered life,
I break down and dread to pick up myself…

I laugh louder with not a care,
I cry harder when it’s needed too…

I am an introvert to speak to others,
I am an extrovert to explore places…

I chatter incessantly to few,
I measure my words as few…

I am an explosion that brightens the sky,
I bury my head like an ostrich in earth…

I am just like you,
I am as unique as you..

I am many parts of one,
I am more than sum of my parts!

I am an oxymoron!
I am an epitome!

“Just Thinking”

A Book by one of the dear friends, I got from blogosphere, Mr. Colin Chappell. This book is a collection of poems by him and few others.

The little blurb on the cover exactly summarises about the book, while the image on the cover sets the tone for the book.. Pleasing to view, Comforting the soul and a beauty to cherish!

The book is a very short read, if you want to finish in a single siting. But it is best enjoyed, when read one at a time and pondered upon, as each of them provokes something inside.. To emote, to inspire, to laugh and sometimes create a new post!

The book is divided into Five Parts.
Part 1 -My friend Ray: It talks about thoughts that influenced the life of Ray just as Ray influenced the life of Colin!
Part 2 – Relationships: Every reader could find some connection with at least one of them. This section is a fine example of how our personal life impacts turn out to beautiful creation.
Part 3 – Life’s Journey: The largest collection of poetry falls within this section and the prelude to the section explains / justifies why very aptly!
Part 4 – Tina and other stories: This is where stories unfold as poetry. And the stories are rich!
Part 5 – Just thinking: This is a collection of random poetry, which are not falling into any of the previous categories..

When I received the book and skimmed through the titles, indeed I was drawn to the “Ripples” and I was astounded for that conveyed my exactly thoughts on why I named my blog as Ripples.

And the poem that became a favorite of mine in the collection is, “The Old man’s lament“. For this one was beautifully inspiring to start living the life right now, or lament later. It is so practical and doesn’t exclude the base of our necessity to be a social being as well as the necessity to live for one self!

There are few written by his daughter, Melanie-Anne Chappell, Dr. Phoebe Chi and Carolyn Shelton. There is some invisible thread tying those poems into the book, very much in sync with the tone and theme of the book. Especially “The Toque (Knitted Hat)! “ by Melanie and “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more” by Dr. Phoebe had a lasting impression on me.

There is an important feature laced all through the book. The poems (not all) starts with a short (or sometimes a page-length) note. It is more like setting the stage for the show. For those notes play a vital role in setting the context. As it eases understanding them on the first read and doesn’t leave any space for misinterpretation by reader, from the perspective of writer.

I have always pondered whether my writing is ever understood, the way I conceived it?! And this seems to be the best solution for that. I might be trying it in the future! Thanks for the idea!

As for acknowledgements, which was at the end of the book, I read it last and was most surprised! For Colin has included me in it, as my Header Image in the past was an inspiration for his poem, Ripples.

The joy of seeing my name in print, along with a very clear understanding of the idea behind it was one of the personal favorite moment of my life. Thank you Colin, for the understanding and the joy you created in me!

The book is a real treasure to ponder upon various facets of life and provides a good meal to the hungry of the mind!

Do grab your copy of the book is available here!

Thoughts on thoughts!

Torrent of thoughts gush through..
Picking up a thread seems Herculean task..
And not one thread is available to hold on..

Importance of those, at all levels..
Urgency of those, at all levels..
Dreaminess of those, at all levels..
Level of implementing, indeed at all levels..

They range from atom to galaxy..
From picking up laundry
To launching a new product..

Unless I know who and where I’m,
I could not move forward..
But if I keep on untangling
And to no avail, how could I go on?

Setting a target and move towards,
The most often suggested idea..
But what if there are so many targets..

Prioritise, they whisper..
With mind or heart?

Mind says,
Plant your feet and then,
Only then reach for the stars..

Heart shouts,
Just reach for the stars,
everything else will fall into place..

Will everything else falls
Or will I myself fall?
Some distant thought asks,
What if you fly rather than fall?

Mind shrouds,
You’re not a bird with wings,
Nor a human with flight..

And there creeps in another thought..
When I can’t even get
my mind and heart together,
How could I put into action,
For those plans to reach the stars?

And there’s that screeching silence..
When all thoughts come to a still,
And not a single thought on the front..
It’s a pleasure I seek when I meditate,
Nonetheless, not easily achieved when I do..
But not when I’m trying to find a way through…

And amidst all the chaos,
The chaos of daily life, calls out..
And in it the dreams drain out..

Now comes another thought,
All above are just your excuses..
Just put them into action
And everything will sort itself out..

Will they? Do they ever sort out at all?
Or is this what life is all about?

On Planning, not to plan

Some people call it
Growing up..
While others call it
Shifting of time..

At some point of life,
We try to rein in everything we can
And let things happen in one way,
Our way, the only right way..

Some do it earlier in life,
Realise that life doesn’t let it be so,
And learn to go with it
And stop making plans..

But there are few,
Who doesn’t want to learn it,
Even after they’ve felt the burn..
For their way is the only right way..

Me, I plan to not plan..
And that plan doesn’t workout..
So I still keep planning
And still feel the burn often..

Once I planned,
To let things flow
And so things flew by,
In every direction I know..

The constant dilemma…
So how to be happy
When things keep flowing
In some way, other than yours..

Life is a form of water,
Born from the vast oceans,
That ultimately reaches
It’s destiny, the ocean..

You have no control over
The evaporation from ocean
Or where you start your journey
As to where the rain falls..

At some point of time,
It eventually gets to some form..
Right then, you choose..
The path of future..

You could either flow through
Barren lands, nourishing it..
Or through the watery lands,
Flooding it and wreaking havoc..

You could fall from great heights,
And be a magnificent falls..
Or you could stay still, stagnate
and eventually stink as unused pond..

You could flourish yourself
Perpetually with fountains,
Stay right where you are as lake,
And let others seek you with love..

You could just lose all control,
Choose the path of least resistance,
Let every rock, pit and bump
Decide your course of future..

Yet every means lead to a destination..
But all the struggle and resistance,
In between the source and destiny,
Is simply to make,
A destination into the destination!

Be the best of what you’re,
And your flow flourishes within
As well as nourishes around..
It’s ALWAYS your choice!

And of course, I chose to be,
Ripples, the unending variety..
That splatters little more of
Life, laughter and love…

The harder the restraint,
You put through my path,
The fierce the will and hence
Bigger the splash and wider the reach!

Hit me with all you can,
I’ll still hit you back,
Incessantly and invariably
With all goodness and love..

And also, I realised that
It’s impossible to restrain
The flow at all times..
But it’s always possible,
To correct the course..
So it’s ALWAYS the choice,
To be dragged or drag the self,
Towards in your direction!

Now I am back to planning..
Not on how to reach..
But on how to re route my flow
Back on to my destination..

Choices!

I grew up listening to the phrase,
Choice makes confusion.
How true is that..

Everyday we make choices,
lots and lots of it..

Choices does come in all sizes..
From waking up to alarm
Or hit snooze..
Till give in to sleep
Or one more page of reading..

From working for a living
Or towards your destiny..
From opting for a profession
Or for a passion that drives you..

From having a healthy life
Or giving in to peer pressure..
From living for yourself
Or for other’s expectation of your life..

From being lazy and procrastinating
Or completing it right through..
From prioritising your needs
Or giving up to silly wants..

From giving in to temptations
Or standing up to convictions..
From choosing to have a choice
Or choosing to not have any..

From fearing what it might be
Or to facing what it could be..
From pondering on what could have been
Or to steering to what should you be..

Of all the choices
Big and small,
Makes you what you are!

Choose wisely,
Just so that, tomorrow
Blooms with no regrets
Nor inconvenience to any!

Laugh hard,
Make others smile
And choose to always
LIVE your life!

For choices are what
Makes you, YOU!

Nobler than the Noblest!

வறுமை! நம் தேசத்தில்
  அது அறிவின் ஆபரணம்

vaRumai! nam thaesathil
adhu aRivin aabaraNam

Poverty! In our country
it is the ornament of intelligence

புலமைக்கு கிடைக்கும் முதல் விருது

pulamaikku kidaikkum mudhal virudhu

It is the first award given to poetic prowess

என்றும் பசிதான் கவிதையின் ரத்தம

endRum pasidhaan kavidhaiyin rathama

Always, hunger is the lifeblood of a poem

வறுமைக்கு பசிக்கும் போதெல்லாம்
  அது புலவனைத்தான் புசிக்கிறது

vaRumaikku pasikkum poadhellaam
adhu pulavanaithaan pusikkiRadhu

When ever hunger strikes poverty,
It feeds on the scholarly

புலவனின் கவிதையோ 
 பசியே வைக்கும் பந்தி

pulavanin kavidhaiyoa
pasiyae vaikkum pandhdhi

For the poet’s creation,
Hunger itself throws the feast,

கவிஞன் மனித ராசி என்றால் நான்
  மறுதலிப்பேன்

kavinjan manidha raasi endRaal naan
maRudhalippaen

If a poet were to be classified as being human,
I would deny

அவன் உயர்திணையைவிட
  உயர்ந்தவன்

avan uyardhiNaiyaivida
uyarndhdhavan

He is nobler than noblest,

எழுதும்போது
  வெளிச்சம் வேண்டியிருந்தால்
  அவனுக்கு
  விரல் மெழுகுவத்தி

ezhudhumpoadhu
veLichcham vaeNdiyirundhdhaal
avanukku
viRal mezhuguvathi

If there is need for light,
when penning a poem,
then his fingers
become the candle

பெருமூச்சியெல்லாம்
  அவனது
  பேனா புல்லாங்குழல்
  ராகஜாதியாய்
  ரசவாதம் செய்துவிடும்

perumoochchiyellaam
avanadhu
paenaa pullaangguzhal
raagaJaadhiyaay
rasavaadham seydhuvidum

All the deep breathes
turn melodic
due to the flute that is his pen

அவன் கண்ணீர்
  இறுகி .. இறுகி ..
  முத்துக்களாய் முதிர்ந்துவிடும்

avan kaNNeer
iRugi .. iRugi ..
muthukkaLaay mudhirndhdhuvidum

His tears, become denser by the tick,
and eventually trickle down like pearls

தன்னை
  நசுக்கி கொண்டு அவன்
  சிரித்து கொள்வான்

thannai
nasukki koNdu avan
sirithu koLvaan

He crushes himself (for his creation),
but sports a smile nevertheless,

சோகமே அவனது படுக்கை
  கவலையே அவனது தலையணை

soagamae avanadhu padukkai
kavalaiyae avanadhu thalaiyaNai

Suffering is his mattress,
Worry is his pillow,

அவனுக்கு தெரியும்
  விருச்சத்தை சுருட்டி
  விதையாக்கும் வித்தை

avanukku theriyum
viruchchathai surutti
vidhaiyaakkum vithai

He knows the art of
condensing a tree into a seed

பாரதி முதலில் பயந்தான் பிறகு
  பயம் அவனை கண்டு பயந்தது

baaradhi mudhalil payandhdhaan piRagu
payam avanai kaNdu payandhdhadhu

At first, Bharathi was afraid,
later fear was afraid of him,

தன்னை எரிக்க வந்த வறுமையை
  அவன் செரித்து விட்டான்

thannai erikka vandhdha vaRumaiyai
avan serithu vittaan

The poverty that came to burn him
Was (crushed into pieces) and digested by him

அவன்தான் சூரிய சொப்பனங்களில்
  சொக்கி கிடந்தானே
  இருட்டு அவனுக்கென்ன பொருட்டு ?

avandhaan sooriya soppanangaLil
sokki kidandhdhaanae
iruttu avanukkenna poruttu ?

For him, who was enthralled In the celestial dreams,
Would the darkness be of concern?

அவன்தான் நாளைய பூக்களின் மேல்
  நடந்து கொண்டிருந்தான்
  இன்றின் முட்கள் என்செய்யும் ?

avandhaan naaLaiya pookkaLin mael
nadandhdhu koNdirundhdhaan
indRin mutkaL encheyyum ?

For him, who was walking On the flowers of tomorrow,
What harm could today’s thorn bear?

நின்றது இந்தியா வா?
  இல்லை இருதயத்தின் ஒரு பாதியா ?
  சந்தேகத்தில் மனம் சலிந்தது

nindRadhu indhdhiyaa vaa?
illai irudhayathin oru paadhiyaa ?
sandhdhaegathil manam salindhdhadhu

Is it India that stopped?
Isn’t it half his heart?
His mind was weary with the confusion!

 தன் பேனாவை எண்ணியே
  பெரிதும் வருந்தினான்

than paenaavai eNNiyae
peridhum varundhdhinaan

He thought about his pen
and repented a great deal,

எதிரிகள் போர்களத்தையே
  திருடிவிட்டதாய் திகைத்தான்

edhirigaL poarkaLathaiyae
thirudivittadhaay thigaithaan

He was astounded
For he thought that the enemies
Stole the battlefield itself (Rather than waging war)

அவன் இமைப்பதற்கு
  இரண்டு நாள் ஆயிற்று

avan imaippadhaRku
iraNdu naaL aayitRu

It took him two days
to even blink an eye
(due to the shock)

வருமானம் வரும் வழியே
  முட் கதவுகளால் அல்லவா
  மூடிவிட்டார்கள் ?

varumaanam varum vazhiyae
mut kadhavugaLaal allavaa
moodivittaarkaL ?

Didn’t they close the path
That brought income
With doors of thorn?

வறுமை தன் வாசலை
  விசாலமாக விரித்தது

vaRumai than vaasalai
visaalamaaga virithadhu

While poverty opened up
its paths wide open

சுயலோகத்தையும் அவன்
  நாடகத்தில் வரும்
  நவரசம் போல
  நன்றாய் ரசித்தான்

suyaloagathaiyum avan
naadagathil varum
navarasam poala
nandRaay rasithaan

He enjoyed the misery in his
own life,
like the way one would enjoy the
splendid expressions of a drama,

கொடுக்க வேண்டிய வாடகை
  நகராத கூவம் போல
  தேங்கியது

kodukka vaeNdiya vaadagai
nagaraadha koovam poala
thaenggiyadhu

The rent that he needed to give (for his house),
started to became stagnant like a well

வசூலிக்க வரும்
  செட்டியாரோ
  கடன்பட்டார் நெஞ்சம்போல
  கலங்கினார்

vasoolikka varum
chettiyaaroa
kadanpattaar nenjampoala
kalangginaar

The Chettiar who came to collect the rent,
his heart was agitated like the one who was in debt,

கோவில் மாடத்தில்
  கூடுகட்டும் புறாவிடம்
  வாடகை எப்படி வசூலிப்பது

koavil maadathil
koodugattum puRaavidam
vaadagai eppadi vasoolippadhu
at the altar of the temple,
to the pigeon that was making its nest,
how can one ask for rent?

இன்று கட்டாயம்
  கேட்பதென்று கால்கள் விரையும்

indRu kattaayam
kaetpadhendRu kaalkaL viraiyum

“Today I will for sure ask”,
with this thought his feet walk briskly

பாரதியின் வாசலுக்கு வரும்போதோ
  காலணியோடு அந்த
  கருத்தையும்
  வெளியே விட்டுவிட்டு
  வீட்டுக்கு போவார்

paaradhiyin vaasalukku varumpoadhoa
kaalaNiyoadu andhdha
karuthaiyum
veLiyae vittuvittu
veettukku poavaar

But when he hit Bharathi’s doorstep,
with the footwear
even this thought
was left behind,
and the Chettiar would go in,

பாரதி சிரிப்பான்
  ஒரு வெண்கல மணி
  விண்ணில் அதிரும்

paaradhi sirippaan
oru veNkala maNi
viNNil adhirum

Bharathi would laugh,
A bronze gong would
strike in the skies,

வாரும் விளக்கெண்ணெய்வாள்
  வாடகைக்கு அப்படி என்ன அவசரம் ஒய்

vaarum viLakkeNNeyvaaL
vaadagaikku appadi enna avasaram oy

Come in! Oh know it all buddy!
What is the hurry to collect rent now?

இன்னும் பத்து வருஷம்
  சுயராஜ்ய ஜோதி
  தெரிந்துவிடும்

innum pathu varusham
suyaraaJya Joadhi
therindhdhuvidum

In ten years,
The light of Independence (swarajya),
will be lit,

பிறகென்ன ?
  அரசாங்கத்தின் கஜானாவிற்கு
  காசோலை தருவேன்
  போய்வாரும்

piRagenna ?
arasaangathin kaJaanaaviRku
kaasoalai tharuvaen
poayvaarum

Then what?
I’ll draw cheque Even to Government treasury
(For I would be that rich by then)
Come back later than now

மீண்டும்
  வெண்கல சிரிப்பு
  விண்ணை உரசும்

meeNdum
veNkala sirippu
viNNai urasum

Yet again, the bronze gong (his laughter)
will fill up the skies

ரணங்களை எல்லாம்
  ஆபரணங்களாய்
  அணிய பழகிய
  அந்த பொழுதில்
  வங்காளத்து மகான்
  வந்து சேர்ந்தார்

raNangaLai ellaam
aabaraNangaLaay
aNiya pazhagiya
andhdha pozhudhil
vanggaaLathu magaan
vandhdhu saerndhdhaar

He had learnt to wear all his debts (battles)
as his jewels
At that moment the great from Bengal
arrived

Note: An excerpt from Vairamuthu’s book ” Kavirajan kathai” Chapter 27 – உயர்திணையைவிட உயர்ந்தவன் (Greater than the greatest)

PS: Thanks to Sucheendra for the translation of this beautiful Extract.