only peace

I have only peace and hope and love in my heart now

they help me

raise me

bring me forth to see the light 

to see God holding us up

preparing us for our lives with love 

I see good health friendship family laughter joy peace happiness hope in our lives 

Horror House

I run screaming through the horror house with the kids

telling them it will be okay,

the hooded figure with bloodshot eyes  chasing us, lunging at us from dark corners, 

is just a man having fun.

Later that night I wake up to real horror- 

the flare has struck 

without warning.

She's been up all night in pain.

There is blood.

Is this God having fun? 

It's not funny.

We plan 

how to get antibiotics,

where the nearest hospital is

how to get down windy hills, a 9-hour journey by road back home, 

as our plans 

for a holiday in the Highlands

dissipates like cloud on a hot tar road

The thought of potential hospital stays, 

bland food,

blood again everywhere,

haunts us-  

the real horror house 

reminding me 

I can run but cannot hide.

I wish I could scream

and laugh it away, heart thumping,

but this horror, faceless, 

is here to stay.

I wish I hadn't v3

I wish I hadn't 

made him cower in a corner

from the poison-tipped barbs

of my words, wishing for a shield 

against the torrent that

pinned him to the wall.

The red mist lifts, 

but the shame lingers 

like slime after a snail, 

sticky, off-colour.

I am shaken.

I made a 10-year old quake,

stutter, stammer, 

ready to admit to anything 

to avoid attack,

fearful

that errant behaviour

of the mildest degree

could push his mother over.

He will wonder forever 

how he should waltz 

avoidance 

with her, around her.

He loves her 

mostly

when she cuddles him

but sometimes

he lights a match unknowingly 

that starts an inferno

and maybe he would rather 

retreat beneath his shell 

than ever do math

with her again.

#jemstones #noprompt #opentocrit

I wish I hadn't v2

I wish I hadn't 

made him cower in a corner

from the poison-tipped barbs

of my words, wishing for a shield 

against the torrent that

pinned him to the wall.

The red mist lifts, 

but the shame lingers 

like slime after a snail, 

sticky, off-colour.

I am shaken.

I made a 10-year old quake,

stutter, stammer, 

ready to admit to anything 

to avoid attack,

fearful

that errant behaviour

of the mildest degree

could push his mother over.

He will wonder forever 

how he should waltz 

avoidance 

with her, around her.

He loves her 

mostly,

like when she cuddles him,

but sometimes

he lights a match unknowingly 

that starts an inferno

and maybe he would rather 

retreat beneath his shell 

than ever do math

with her again.

I wish I hadnt

I wish I hadn't 

made him cower in a corner

cringing from the barbs of my words,

wishing for a shield 

against the torrent that

pinned him to the wall 

The red mist lifts, 

but the shame lingers like slime

sticky and off colour

I am shaken

that I made a 10 year old quake 

stutter and stammer 

ready to say anything to avoid attack,

confused, fearful

that errant behaviour

of the mildest degree

could push his mother over 

and make him wonder forever 

about how he should  dance 

the waltz of  avoidance 

with her, around her,

away from her.

He loved her 

mostly,

when she cuddled and massaged him

but

sometimes he lights a match 

that starts an inferno,

unknowingly, ,

and maybe he would rather 

retreat beneath his shell 

than ever do math

with her again.

humility

how do we live with someone 

knowing we are not the centre

no longer the centre or never the centre

the pride takes a hit

the walls come rushing up 

and then it takes work.to chisel it bit by bit down

what is poetry

poetry is sculpture on a page

chiselling space with words

speaking thru the silences 

pillsrs

this marriage has two pillars

one tends to walk away

every now and then

to hold up the world larger than this small abode

so the other moves to the centre

to hold it

small though it is

it needs a pillar

but it was meant tonto stand on 2

and when it stands on one

the weight crushes it just a bit

it crumbles in parts

plaster falling off

exposing ugly beams 

the paint peels off

then the other comes back and it shifts a little to the left

but then it walked again 

and it shifted centr again

more plaster crumbling 

and then

and then

it starts to think

it doesn't need the other pillar

it can hold it up

crumbling though it is

but it's bitter now

not ao pretty and smooth 

and the house gets mad

unstable unsteady 

missing the missing pillar

mad at the onlynaviale pillar 

blaming it foe pushing the other away 

from then

and them pillar has no way to win 

just stands there holding it up

crumbling inside now

who is this

I look in the mirror 

and don't recognise her

this lady with deep dark circles

around sunken eyes

her lips a hard line 

it is not age

that has turned her so

it is bitterness 

anger

self pity 

and I don't like her much

this lady

whose sharp tongue 

slashes the air in between

drawing blood

she draws fearful glances from her children 

her parents 

for a second I see her thru their eyes

a lady slightly unhinged 

snapping at things 

always barking ordering scowling and scolding.

at work she is the epitome of kindness, patience, open understanding 

at home she is all business

keeping the ship going 

ashwin

since yesterday 

I've been getting the idea that ashwin demonstrates some traits of people on the autism spectrum. 

super high functioning 

so mild perhaps

.just his.way of sometimes taking things very literally 

and counting minutes and hours precisely 

and knowing a mountain of facts 

and getting very emotional when things don't go exactly well

and also his immense creativity of course 

I must help him

support him 

manage things with him

love songs on the radio

do strange things to me

sometimes

I turn it off, switch channels

other times I let it linger in the air

I remember moments between us 

like far off memories 

faded but sweet

and I recall

how it used to be

how I'd love you more each passing day 

and how I'd look forward to growing old with you

now I don't know

this year has taken its toll

and it remains to be seen

what time will do

it helps a great deal 

to see you as a house guest

puts things in perspective 

manages expectations 

love

what is this thing actually 

even with children 

it's unconditional 

ha

meaning cannot expect to be loved back

a one way street

with every act an event to be greeted with surprise

okay. 

that is okay. 

he called me meena today on WhatsApp

felt so strange

he never calls me by name

ah well 

guess becoming a stranger is a two way street 

that's ok

reflections

Firstly I had an awesome time facilitating a dialogue with Lois lowry 

She is amazing. 

So humble so talented. 

genius. 

and kind and wise. 

my fav qn to her and her answer was 

even for children's books you write about serious issues like death, divorce, illness, 

Why do you feel it is important to write about such weighty issues even for children 

her answer 

lit is often a prep for life

some sad things going to happen later on in life. e.g. death of a dog. some loss. 

they would have experienced a safe way of experiencing it in their books that they can call on later when thr pain hits. 

and about why humour in sad books. to take the dogs another way

and I talked about safe landings in her books for children that are so reassuring. 

and so many people told me I did well which made me really happy. 

.and I scribbled the questions like in min before session started on the back of the script they sent me! 

so my prep is

Read a lot. internalise the books. keep thinking about it. have qn in mind. then 5 min prep of actually writing qn down and ticking them off! love it haha. so it sounds genuine. not rehearsed. Live in the moment and pick it up and respond to qn and comments naturally with curiosity.  . 

then spoke to a whole bunch of people 

2 from American embassy

1 lovely fellow nerd

Janet 

Ex dd of cpo

wai kit and fiance

Amanda chong

then I spoke to the moderator of the jeannette winterson session

she was happy I liked her suave style

then she introduced me to her wife

i don't know why I feel this is so momentous. 

the moderator was Indian a bit short and dressed androgynouslt

her wife was a white lady, talk and beautiful curly hair

she introduced her wife to me

and at that Time

I wanted ny gat friends to have that freedom too

to he able to introduce their loved one as wifes instead of partners. 

I'm not sure why 

it represented hope I guess in some ways 

witty, smart in committed relationships how can they be denied recognition 

by a close minded majority 

dawn

journey of a rain drop

fell from sky 

aah help me help me 

fell on red roof

then rolled down

fell on leaf

then rolled onto snails back

then swayed all the way near River.scared of mixing and mingling 

but fell

inside world of wonder 

so many drops

all sharing their story

one on the back of a dog that wagged its tail and she flew off

another from down a tree

a truck 

now they avoid a deer drinking 

kept going 

till reached rhe sea

wonderful expansive calm 

then woah

lifted up to the air 

sucked in

all calm 

then rumbled 

rumble

darkens 

then a gigging feeling of anticipation 

and 

arh

fell hard and fast onto a tin roof 

made a hole and fell on a girls head

mingled with her tear

flicked and fell into a bucket 

ups and downs

This has been a year of ups and downs. 

Jan started well enough.  Akshaya had come of age. In laws here. Happy. Kavin was born. 

Then akshaya had to be hospitalised. twice. urgh. that was so bad. so bad. a time great rupture between me and saro too. 

photo shoot all I wasn't even happy and told kavitha haha don't think she registered. 

then India trip came and all was good. bintan after that. lovely time.

then generally was OK. hit a high near my birthday.  he was so proud of me for my award I was touched. 

After my birthday it's been downhill more or less. we are distant and I erupt into anger every now and then. 

not sure why. whether he is away more or I'm just feeling it more sometimes than others. 

the day

the day feels cool fresh and new

like a gift from God

clean 

filled with possibilities 

and I can only think

how am I going to screw this up

Wind Art

Wind is painting today,

the condo pool her canvas. 

Normally so still,

the water is dancing today

as Wind has her way.

She sends ripples northeast first, 

before she takes a new fancy,

sends the water rippling northwest too,

creating shimmering domes in the confluence.

Now Rain drizzles her share- 

the canvas bubbles in concentric circles overlapping.

Not yet content, Wind lifts the leaves and flowers off nearby trees,

fings them in too

so now the shades of blue have yellow and orange highlights. 

Tben she takes a deep breath and sends a whoosh from the east

The water rises and folds in waves

that kiss the shore.

I'm walking round and round, 

as the wind paints on me too,

shifting my hair one way, my shirt the next 

Raindrops stud me with diamonds

as I drink in Wind's art

on my condo pool.

corners

I gravitate towards corners

In restaurants, lifts

craving the support of solid walls at least on 2 sides

to be buffeted less

perhaps by the winds of change, life

instinctively seeking the stability I can

ponniyin selvan

one of the best movies ever

everything comes together so nicely 

actors lines dialogue setting costumes 

action conversations 

almost no romance and still a good film. 

women with important roles.who has heard of this!

After the rain

it's always lovely to walk by the river after the rain

swelled by water brown with run off

with hungry monitor lizards on the look out 

After the rain its a time of change 

for creatures to peer out and assess 

the mood 

when trees are full of birds like so many leaves standing upright 

when water droplets bead the leaves like diamond

when trees look they have stepped out of the shower

there leaves wet and fresh 

when I gently kick a fallen fruit past the mulchy leaves and into the water with a plop and splash so loud, and wonder 

how have I changed the course of nature today

if I hadn't kicked it in, what would have become of it, and its off springs

and now that I have, how will the trajectory if its life and off spring change?

I play god for a minute or more likely god is playing me still for 

the permanent part timer

have you met him 

the permanent part timer

part time dad

part time hubby

part time friend

part time boss 

part time colleague 

part time son

part time brother

part time volunteer at 

temple 1 temple 2 temple 3

 

there aren't enough parts of him 

to go around 

so he becomes 

the permanent 

bit timer

a big time bit timer 

distributing bits of his time 

here and there 

like manna from heaven 

only 

the world does learn

to manage

without the bits. 

I am she

I am she, possibly - 

Sri Raghavendra's wife 

Prince Sidhartha's wife 

Sir Lucasta's wife.

Ladies unknown,

except that their men left them

in search of more noble pursuits

than being a husband and a father,

to preach peace and fight wars.

Love between man and woman is for mere mortals, 

not for Raghavendra, Bhudda, Lucasta, Saravana.

how

I go to bed sad

wake up sad

not sure what to do

when he is around 

I don't dare feel too happy

I know this is just a reaction 

to our recent argument 

so a light switches on

"I need to be present at home"

all too easily he will forget.

so I can't be happy

it's like being with a drunkard who says I won't drink anymore

here the addiction is outside work

I know I'm being mean saying all this

I sound and feel petty

I want to be generous and light

like the kids

who truly love without expectation 

I'm scared too

the other time I was so unhappy

I lashed out at ashwin over nothing 

and wounded him

and that was 3 weeks after the matter

I don't care now if he speeds time at home. that boat has sailed. I now just see it as ah he is here. 

and I don't feel so glad when my kids hug me even

I love it when they do

but

all this discussion on the soul

I'm at early stages I suppose

I don't know.

when they hug me instead of feeling so happy in the moment find myself saying 

this too is temporary

the body is temporary 

these relationships are temporary 

they love me now

they won't tomorrow

or won't need me like this anyway 

and I cannot be hurt

so better not get too happy now 

I guess I'm catching myself 

in the process of building a wall around me

because he is hurting me

I'm building the wall around my kids too 

the equation in my mind is 

if he can hurt me 

they can too

I am my own best friend 

that sounds like a scared person. 

I can't blame the scriptures haha

it's typical defensive behaviour of people who are hurt

but 

I cannot let others affect me

I know that

then i give them power 

.and I want to retain the power

how do I do that 

be fully present as a mother

at the very least

and fully present as daughter and colleague

some easy to define roles and rules. take those. Wear those robes and walk confidently 

I envy those who appear to be a tight family unit

but I shouldn't. 

every family every person is battling their own demons

let me trace things with saro though. I feel the unhappiness goes quite a long way back.

2011

.1st time I was deeply unhappy was when I was expecting ashwin. haha I may well have contributed to his creative dramatic soul who feels so much. I went for counselling.  i cried for 2 hours once and he never knew or cared. his parents were around and I was sure I was last on his priorities. 

I sense a pattern. I want to be high on his priorities and when I feel I am not I get sad

2014. 2nd was when expecting aishu. he had lost himself to temple then. didn't even want a third baby. I was so unhappy. think we only became ok the day before she was born. but I discovered coursera then. changed my life. 

2016. 3rd time was his 40th. Birthday time. I threw an amazing party for the rest not for him. and had Harry Potter party all by myself. came back from nz realising how lousy I felt about myself around him

2022. and now. from start of year till now.

other random times 

calling him telling him he must tell others he has to be home by 9, that he would if he had a meeting. run was with me. Woodlands hone

another time crying to sham. when he ad 9 days of navarathiri and didn't tell me. 

then all I had trouble adjusting that he wouldn't be home for dinner. 

he never changed. so I did. stopped caring I guess. and he got happy. 

so now what. 

Ive felt like leaving him at least twice. Once with aishu in my stomach. 

another in the early part of this year. I started saying I just need to be with him till aishu is 18. another 10 years. then can go off. 

now I'm preparing to mentally separate. 

earlier too I said better he is around sometimes than never so just hang around. 

ive talked and talked. 

I'm sick of it. 

subair told me to talk to him. I was chatting with malar and realised I must talk to him. 

I give up now. also between subair and malar it's just the same  year. 

I guess I should be fair and give it till Feb. just another 4 months. 

yesterday when I was sad I went to him and fought him and made him sad.today I don't feel like it. 

I. just resolving how to handle things. 

this is not too bad. 

only don't feel safe going on a holiday by myself to see my friends anymore. not safe for the kids. though I guess he will step in if he has to. 

also running thought for past few weeks

love is so overrated 

like animals we should just come together to have our young and then leave mum with kids. 

feels

I feel churlish now

not caring not supporting him 

but really how can  i support if he doesn't tell me where he is going and what he is doing

he had shown me time and again where I stand 

I am not a priority with him

I don't see why I should make him my priority 

shall just tolerate him

my own defense is to view him as a house guest. it helps no end

wanted to ask him to go stay someplace else for next few months. but that not nice I suppose

so stay here and pay the bills

not much else expected or requested 

emotional separation

I'm separating from you 

emotionally 

no jealousy on my part 

just self preservation 

he is a part time husband part time father full time run rounder 

the permanent part timer 

have you met him 

the permanent part timer

part time dad

part time hubby

part time friend

part time boss 

part time colleague 

part time son

part time volunteer at temple 1

part time volunteer at temple 2 

part time volunteer at temple 3

part time brother 

there aren't enough parts of him to go around 

so he becomes 

the permanent 

bit timer

a big time bit timer 

distributing bits of his time 

here and there 

like manna from heaven 

only 

the world does learn to manage

without the bits

while he figures out 

how much of him is left

After all is done 

my life

I resolve from today to not need a certain someone

I will not crave him. 

I shall see myself as distanced from him as of today 

I am emotionally separated from.him. 

he is a busy house guest. 

I shall be conscientious. 

I would prefer if he could leave

whom would I have to cut off? 

devi sath sendhil kavitha. 

emotional separation. it's a thing.  a new thing. my thing. is it a thing

who am i

the good thing about my lonlineness now is that I'm reaching towards the Bhagavad-Gita 

I feel my souls purpose was to bring to earth three godly children, bring them up, and be a source of support for my parents. who are very independent and whom I need more than they need me but who are such beautiful souls with no expectations that they are happy with whatever little I give them

I suspect my dad knows I'm unhappy. but he will also just want us to work it out. 

I don't feel like complaining. I have nothing to complain about. darling kids. gems of parents. Good helper. Good job.  Good friends. Good home. stable.

 psychologically safe. Good man for a husband though not particularly present

that's the only thing. 

I shouldn't be wanting everything. 

I wish I wouldn't sound bitter about him not being around

sometimes I feel like a single parent and he is a bonus gift when he is around 

but it's supposedly just for a year. out of which there are now only 4 months left.

he has his karma. his guna.  we are a small part . 

I have mine. for which my family is a large part I want to own 

my son needs such love. he is a beautiful beautiful bright soul and the one thing I could do is support him so he can become whom he wants

and I can get a dog. a rescue dog. I won't be discussing with much. I shall just decide and take him or her own myself next year. like parvathy created a son for herself I'll get a dog for myself. sons or daughters aren't mine. just souls put together for a season for us to help the other

same with the dog I realise. 

comma

commas,

get, in, the, way

of, me, 

sayingsomethingtoyouright,

now,

loneliness

lonliness

worthlessness 

how does one combat such feelings

by digging deeper into the self

 the reservoir that can sustain us in times of despair 

be grateful for the abundance in life 

children happy 

stable life

meaningful job

friends who mean the world 

a world of books to read re read

music at my fingertips 

parents like gold

what more could the heart want

what has lobe got to do with it

I can be in love with the lady in the mirror

I see my role first and foremost ad mum to my children and daughter to my parents

the rest

dispensable. nobody is irreplaceable.  

talk

I talked with my best friend today about things that bothered me

and I feel better now

she is thousands of miles away in a different continent different timezone

but she was there for me

and I feel better now

I need to talk to him

tell him how I feel

ask him for some time 

and hope I don't make things worse 

how do we live with almost no expectations ? 

rubiks

3 by 3

white Cross first 

then white corners 

flip upside down 

long tees topple 

again and again

2nd row done

yellow Cross now

feed the fish 

yellow face mixed 

to solve it

twist and turn 

a little more

you are done! 

 

Roger federer

Federer retiring and the world's reaction to his retirement bring tears to my eye

he is a sporting legend and a gentleman

like my balasubramaniam

a singer and a gentleman. 

Federer is the reason I started watching tennis and playing more tennis

my husband and I used to stay up late and watch the 4 opens together. so Federer and tennis were ways for us to bond and remind me of my early happy days of marriage 

then we had a baby and we xoyld still watch but less and then they started charging and saro ever practical decided to not subscribe coz with a baby We don't have much time anyway and so my watching declined drastically.  its not the same reading about beautiful games in the papers so its always with a touch of nostalgia and sadness I think about tennis. payment and an overly practical husband marred my enjoyment of Federer for many more years. 

thinking back I could have made stronger decisions myself as I would now

for now we are partners more than lovers. less dependency. 

anyway

so Federer retiring feels like an ending of many things  . 

glad I watched some of his games at least. I watched Nadal come on and face him and both compete and be friends. I watched djikovich come on too and become the great three. now there are 2.. 

farewell Federer. thank you for the game 

mothering

what is it to mother and why do I do it

writing this makes me realise mother is just one letter short of smother. a thin line To stay on the right side of mothering without crossing over to paranoid over controlling freaks we can all become

are mothers mothers when they have a child

or is there something more

must there be a desire to spend time with them, play with them be young with them revel in all that we learn and learn again with them

to love unconditionally without expectations 

to watch them grow up to not need you but want your company nevertheless 

to see them watching you watch them wanting you to watch them but not showing it

it's joy and pain and love and pain and joy again all over 

building a life

what does it mean to build a life

of books

memories 

friends 

partnerships 

44 years and I'm blessed 

yesterday was my kind of fav evening 

I'm the boss

and I'm letting my kids have fun 

my way

pizza and books 

but I know I must build for a future without them 

they will have their own lives and still be part of mine

but won't revolve around me

and I round them

coffee, conversations, books, music, writing, devotion, studies in history and literature, ... I think I'll be OK. 

I need to find bolsters to sleep with! now my kids are my bolsters 

to love but not too much 

thats a balancing act to ever aspire to

painting wind

the wind is painting today 

the condo pool it's canvas 

normally so still

today the water is dancing

as the wind has its way

sending ripples northeast

when the whimsy wind takes a new fancy

and the water ripples northwest too

converging to create shimmering domes. 

and now the rain drizzles its share

and the canvas bubbles in concentric circles, overlapping

not content the wind lifts the leaves and flowrs off the nearby trees

f lings then in the water too

so now the blue  has  yellow and orange highlights 

and then she puffs up her chest and sends a whoosh from the East

so the water rises and folds in waves

rushing to kiss the shore 

I'm walking round and round reveling 

as the wind paints on me too

shifting my hair one way, my shirt the next

raindrops stud me with diamonds

as I drink in nature's art

on my condo pool.

a scruffy mynah comes out once

cockspur its head at the sky

as if to check if more rain is on its way

then makes up its mind and flies straight up to shelter a roof

now the surface lifts like a blanket

rippling northeast

pool window painting

the wind is painting today 

the condo pool it's canvas 

normally so still

today the water is dancing

as the wind has its way

now the surface lifts like a blanket

rippling northeast

when the whimsy wind takes a new fancy

and the water ripples northwest too

converging to create new designs

and now the rain drizzles its share

and the canvas bubbles in concentric circles, overlapping

oh look the wind picks up send now the water lifts in waves 

to kiss the shore

I'm walking around, round and round the pool, reveling as the wind paints on me too

shifting my hair one way

as raindrops stud me with diamonds

as I drink in nature's art

on my condo pool.

a scruffy mynah comes out once

cockspur its head at the sky

as if to check if more rain is on its way

then makes up its mind and flies straight up to shelter a roof

daughter by Carol Ann Duffy

DAUGHTER

Your mother’s daughter, you set your face

to the road

that ran by the river; behind you, the castle,

its mute ballroom,

lowered flag. Stoic, your profile a head on a coin,

you followed the hearse

through sorrow’s landscape- a farmer, stood

on a tractor,

lifting his tweed cap; a group of anglers

shouldering their rods.

And now the villagers, silently raising

their mobile phones.

Then babies held aloft in the towns, to one day

be told they were there.

But you had your mother’s eyes, as a horse ran free

in a field;

a pheasant flared from a hedge

like a thrown bouquet;

journeying on through a harvest of strange love.

How they craned to glimpse their lives again

in her death; reminded

of Time’s relentless removals, their own bereavements,

as she passed.

The uplift of the high bridge over a dazzle of water;

a sense of ascending

into anointing light which dissolved into cloud.

Nine more slow grey miles to the Old Town; the last mile

a royal mile,

where they gathered ten-deep as your mother showed you

what she had meant.

Nightfall and downpour near London. Even the motorways paused;

thousands of headlights in rain

as you shadowed her still; smatterings of applause

from verges and bridges.

Soon enough they would come to know this had long been

the Age of Grief;

that History was ahead of them. The crown of ice melting

on the roof of the world.

Tonight, childhood’s palace; the iPhone torches linking back

to medieval flame.

So you slowed and arrived with her, her only daughter,

and only her daughter.

baby's world

He lies on his stomach

inching forward to grab his ball,

the chaos of faces in the hall

the mass of hands

that pass him one to the other,

forgotten.

He looks into her eyes 

sees all of him in each.

She bobs her head at him,

he gurgles back. 

All is well for he is with her.

Only she knows his cry that means

he is hungry,

     his tummy wants a raspberry 

          he needs a nap.

He could stay here all day all night

with her, his world.

what is love

I am starting to realise 

that maybe the purest more primal kind of love there is, is thst between parents and children 

and we try to reclaim that love in all our other relationships too unknowingly 

After the slapstick jokes are done between friends and the burning passion cools between lovers

we just want to be cherished loved cared for by the other as a kids wants to be loved by the parent. maybe specifically mother. 

have you seen a baby with its mother? 

the whole world is the mother. it gurgles because it is near the Mon cries when it wants its mum

smiles when he is near her

we don't light up the life of another being as much as a mother dies for her child 

purest with least expectations too

and then as we grow and experience the tugs of war between life and ourselves we fluctuate and clumsily try to recreate that bond.  unconditional love. a feeling that this person has your back no matter what . with the other people whose lives we cross. 

a night of music

I am so happy about yesterday 

2 lows and 3 highs

I can feel sad and also happy

the happy

1. My dad loved it. this was not quite what I expected. he was awake the whole time, beating time to the rhythm and I realise I have not seen him enjoy a musical concert like this. likely he has not attended one actually! He said it felt like his higher self was listening and enjoying it.  my heart is full knowing he was happy and the bonus was that neither of us expected it

2. And I realised maybe my love of music came from him..isn't that wonderful.  to have loved something and suddenly really see it may have sprung from a person I love so much 

3. And now I have a music buddy! woo hoo! 

the sad

ah well. I wish I could have taken ashwin too.  thing is I only took my dad coz ashwin was not coming.  so hard choice. if ashwin was coming I would have even thought of extending this invite to my dad. and there will be tons more concerts I can take ashwin and my dad to now! 

and I lost my bangle  a gift from my parents. very sad about that 

the purpose of a gift is in the giving. so the bangle served it purpose in some ways. showed me my parents love and showed me a kind of bangle i didn't know I'd love so much. 

lobe is the hardest

love is hard

meeting in the middle is so off chance 

love letter to mother earth

are we the monster you unleashed and cannot control

did you bring us to speed things up make it more exciting after all

before we came along

the world it moved at glacial pace

now even that means something different 

now glaciers are accelerating thanks to us 

how do you feel watching us fill you up with plastic junk that never decomposes 

you who have such perfect rhythm 

recycling built into your dna

trees 

born from earth and back to earth 

prey and predators evenly matched 

like the cheetah that can run at 60 miles an hour but only for 30 seconds 

so the gazelle has a chance 

do you sigh do you cry 

at how unfair we play

the glaciers cracking is that your heart breaking 

and the floods the floods

are those your tears

about what we are doing to your jewel in the galaxy 

in a blink of an eye

origin story

Thank you chicken

I'm only alive thanks to a chicken

My great grandmother delivered her son 

on the dirt packed floor 

at the back of the kitchen

in kandanur 

He came out silent

and was put away

by the door leading to the backyard

while they tended to the mother 

urgently binding the bleeding

while she lay prone, shallow breathing. 

He lay there idle, content, quiet... dead? 

till a curious chicken came a pecking.

A siren wail brought the midwife back 

who picked him up from amongst the vegetable peel

and so he lived and had my dad who lived and had me

and I'm here to tell the tale

thank you dear chicken

the idly speaks to my daughter

To the 8 year old in Alavakottai

Why do you cry when you see me? 

I am here, an empty canvas

to soak in the sunshine of sambar

the green fire of chutney

the passionate shades of mutton curry 

Yet you say i am

Boring. 

You cry -  Idly Again

I am NEVER idly again

You cannot dip my tip 

and hope to taste paradise. 

I am born for dunking

Nothing and therefore everything

you just need to know

how to paint with me

I an always and only 

Idly Anew

I am nothing 

and therefore everything

school mornings

My mother packs her love

in  a brown paper square 

with soft white idles

round, in the centre

Red podi with gingelly oil 

grainy by the edge 

my recess. 

My father stirs his love 

vigorously, every morning

waking me up by clinking the tea spoon

round and round in a tall cup

to announce to the world 

it has dawned

my daughter has to go to school 

her tea is ready 

she is ready 

world... are you ready? 

my school mornings are 

my mother's idlies and my fathers tea

sending me out to face the world

fortified 

hard to move on

I wish I had someone I could speak to

malar maybe or sutha

I'd like them to be here. don't want to talk about this to anyone on the phone

feel I'm making a big deal of nothing too

not sure how to talk about it.l

let's try

the other day it was my wedding anniversary. .kids were having a sleepover at cousins place.quite last minute we decided to go out for dinner 

he went home in the small gap we had bought me flowers and bothered to dress up.we went to Clark Quay had dinner at Vietnamese place. 

vietnam holds special memories for us it was like a second honeymoon destination. 

food was so so but evening was good. came home had a good time about to sleep at 1145

I felt so close to him.then he asked me if he could go meet his friends to watch a cricket game. 

in my mind the evening had been unexpectedly perfect. 

I find out he had other plans. After me. I was not the end of his night but part of his night. 

if I had been a little less self centred and more aware .I would have realised 

he told me his friends were calling him to watch some cricket match but he said he couldn't come. 

.if he had had no intention of going he would not have even mentioned this to me I guess. subconsciously he was of two minds to go there and be with me

I missed that

took things at face value. 

and a minute before he told me he was thinking of going to see his friends had been thinking this is so perfect we should do this every year, send off the kids and enjoy our anniversary night together. 

it was the timing that tore me up. for I felt a fool. putting so much value on this one night when I was one of many things for him. that's what it feels like.

I can't even talk to him because what can he do

he didn't go. he apologised. not much else he can do right.

the fact he even thought about going hurt me. what is he to do about that 

he cannot help it that he has so much to do and for me that night he was all.

on my part there are some changes I'd like to see in him I guess. 

one is to be fully present . if he is with me just be with me. leave his temple and his friends and work aside. 

but wish I didn't have to say something as basic as this  if I have to say this what does it say.  he is not a kid. this is a 19 year old relationship. if he cannot put me first even for one night our anniversary night what is there left for me to say or feel

I can only accept and find a way to move on right 

fuck

and it feels churlish to cry . he did so much else .  doesn't all that count. how can one mistake take away all the good he has done all the good that he is. 

and to make mistake is to be human. the very definition of human beings is that we make mistakes. and he felt bad already. 

so now I need to know how I can leave the hurt behind and move.  even now if I stop to think I feel like crying  . what happens now. really at a loss. 

now between us there feels like there is this thing in between again. large looming.  allowing us to be fake but not really ourselves. 

basically I've put up my guard again. don't want to get hurt again. how to be close with a guard in between

anyway guess the fact that one night was seeming special is already a warning sign. such nights should not be such a rarity. Once a year once in 2 years . its already in trouble. just we don't know it. 

I want to be a mother first discharge my duties there with as little expectation as possible. 

then I want to be a writer. 

then a literature lover. 

then a good daughter..

then a good friend 

the other things .. all on the same next tier. sister. wife. boss. colleague. daughter in law. sister in law. 

I am a student of literature.  

I will find things I love for myself alone and lose myself in those

he will just be a pastime. a good to have. 

khatam khatam..

but I am not happy

sigh

I am usually happy. 

easier for me to see him as a parenting partner 

I don't want to want him as a lover 

I'm sick of that.

maybe a room mate. a friend. 

wiwit is my fellow co parent really. not sure how I will manage next year when she leaves.  hope kid are grown up enough to do things themselves. 

discomfort

yesterday I got a shock to see s talking to r. he has grown chubby just in the face. I like his wife very much though and feel comfortable with her. maybe he feels comfortable with s too. I kept trying to keep away from him. this is the longest I've spent in the same space as him in nearly 2 decades. 

and a wants to meet up! urgh that just feels disloyal coz of how he makes life difficult for s. again I'm very comfortable with his wife! I shall find ways to avoid that meeting. shouldn't be difficult.  its been so hard to meet up with people I actually do want to! 

tears

why did I cry so much yesterday 

and why did he cry so much today 

yesterday I cried because I felt a fool

that I placed so much more value on something he didn't

the one who feels more than the other is always the fool no

he cried

because I cried? 

he said he felt bad and sad

I am weary now

and grown up

it's like I felt I let my guard slip a little yesterday and he wound his way in and hurt me 

and now the guard is back up

it's very interesting I guess

to always be a state of balance

to love but not too much

to love without expecting 

to always be steady and stable 

larger than myself

yesterday I howled. 

primal somehow 

but today is a new day 

and I am calm 

I don't believe in true love.

I believe in love that we work on, work at 

the quiet touches not the grand gestures 

yesterday he fooled me

went home to get changed, shaved

got me flowers.

I got swept away

and then dumped haha

I deserve it

yesterday I realised 

he never sleeps alone

and if  I sleep with him 

I am also never alone with him

he has his phone with him

and with it all his friends acquaintances colleagues

he is a man of the world

born to serve

and I am selfish

to think him mine for a night 

that's what I realised yesterday 

he belongs to the world 

like God maybe 

and I should be happy with the bits I get

I got upset because for a moment

I thought I had him

that's what God is teaching me

I don't have anybody

I don't have those rights with anybody.

none of us have

heartbreak comes when we think people owe us

everything is a blessed bonus

no expectations 

something I know and can keep aspiring to I guess 

I feel better knowing maybe what made me cry like that. wonder how saro is dealing with his pain. he is a good man. tries to do so much all the time. doesn't cut himself any slack at all. he must have been so crushed that our perfect evening crashed like that. sigh. 

I love him very much.  

the fact that I was so affected merely attests to the fact. that in itself is something to be celebrated. 

and his sobbing today. also a sign of love I think. 

we love each other. isn't that worth discovering and celebrating on our anniversary? 

water

I come to water

because life thrives here

By the River on Friday Evening

I catch a heron and a dragonfly at play

A striated heron fidgets by the edge of the water

Silver bodies of fish flash in the shallows

but no

the heron darts at the dragonfly

which hovers tantalisingly close before flying away 

The bird ignores the fish

the way I ignore fruit

and reaches for the dragonfly 

the way i reach for a packet of crisps

on a cool Friday evening at home. 

safe

somehow the world seems a less safe place today 

maybe it's the barrage of news that assaults us every morning when we tune in to social media

the algorithm churning out more bad news to match the ones that we already receive 

Big people get stabbed, shot at, and die everyday 

Shizuko Abe, ( May God rest his soul)  Samantha Rushdie ( thanks goodness he seems to have survived) 

but so do the little people

a girl on a water slide 

a baby 

a man 

an old man

death has been busy 

and laws change mutate

seeming to reach out to embrace 

its arm on your should warns you it can yet strangulate 

repeal an outdated law that criminalises sex between men

and change the constitution to protect marriages 

to appease blood thirsty masses 

you may have seen but may never marry 

and gay children shall never be on our text list, 

cancel them by cancelling them

govt

the government is giving itself more and more rights and privileges 

giving a biscuit and taking a house 

repealing 377a but making it virtually impossible for guys to marry here

changing the constitution.  you know who changes constitutions? despots and tyrants.

cue rajapaksha. who gave himself rights to appoint anyone he wants as minster and helicoptered his family in. 

all ministers are ministers for truth. 

and now they define marriage and state no one can challenge definition citing equal rights. 

meaning they know they can be challenging and so put it out it can't! 

cowards. 

control freaks. 

he she they

I have recently come to understand that non binary people identify as they rather than he or she  I'm late to this party I truly am. 

I applaud that 

and I wonder now

could I be a they too

firstly in solidarity with those who identify as non binary

we should more of us use they

otherwise just those using they would he identified as non binary

if more of us adopted the pronoun it would appear to be more welcoming and accepting? 

.also if I say I am not non binary 

does that make me binary? .I quite protest and so do my multiple selves

for when are we ever only one

I carry many selves and they all yearn to be acknowledged

it would be interesting and more true for my daughter to say 

Meenakshi is my mother

and they are very pleased to meet 

all the multiples selves that are my mum welcome you to their home

writerly self

I have a writerly self

who pens in secret on weekends and in the margins

making space 2

you taught us to make space for you

to adjust      physical space 

           books and beds your perches

close all the windows 

      ribbons, bridges, papers your toys 

a room full of twigs and leaves

to slide   routines 

          zoom meetings with bird call

      after school song stop 

        apple slices and kangkong

hourly wipe downs of sills and surfaces 

to open up    purses

vitamin enriched grains

    fruits, sunflower seeds

       millet sprays 

            doctor visits

to shift        the spaces in our hearts

       for a curved beak 

for green so green 

    tinted with red and aquamarine 

for your call 

       your name

        to nest 

and to grow around the gap 

                 you left when you left. 

    

#jemstones #noprompt  #opentocrit #birdanniversary

making space

you taught us to make space for you

to adjust      physical space 

           books and beds your perches

close all the windows 

      ribbons, bridges, papers your toys 

a room full of twigs and leaves

to slide   routines 

          zoom meetings with bird call

      after school song stop atop ponytailed heads

hourly wipe downs of sills and surfaces 

to open up    purses

vitamin enriched grains

    fruits, sunflower seeds

       millet sprays 

            doctor visits

to shift the spaces in our hearts

       for a curved beak 

for green so green 

tinted with red aquamarine 

for your call 

your name

to nest 

and to grow around the gap you left

when you left. 

reflections after class

I do have a voice people would like to hear more of

I must rework a few poems at a time, starting now, every weekend. and park them in a ready to go folder 

I must read works of poetry and see how they have been organised, titled, sectioned. what they start and end with. for local works see who published then

1. Ann ang 

2.Esther Vincent 

3. Shawn loo

4. Mary jean chan

5. Chen chen 

6. Emily Barry

7. Billy Collins 

8. Wendy Cope

9. Aaron Maniam 

10. Pooja Nansi

11. Brian Bilston

I must think of titles and print my poems my poems lay them out on the floor. 

I want to have 40 poems. 

if I rework 2 poems at a time each week, I need 20 weeks 

but 13 are more or less done. so only need 28 more poems so 14 weeks.

just nice. so my printing and choosing titles and all will be from Nov. 

meanwhile I'll be reading the week and revising in the weekend. 

reading books of poetry. reading on the new places to send my poetry collections to. 

poems I hope to include 

1. Cambodia

2. elephants 

3. rest 

4. love lace lost 

the 13 

5. excel poem 

others 

love lace lost gained and all

you taught us how to make space for you when you suddenly turned up unannounced 

demanding food water shelter.. songs games ... love. 

did you demand? 

maybe not.

you came and we made space because we had

you were our guest and you were to have the best 

a personal games ic

as large a cage

and a room to fly free most of the day 

sunflower seeds and paper 

and us. 

to feed you.talk to you. clean up after you. sing to you. love you. just love you. 

you also taught us to grieve, after you left, cleaving our hearts in two

there is a lovebird shaped hole in our lives and hearts no and we learn to plaster over it

it will never fully heal you know

but

as we learned to grow around you

so we learn to grow around your absence too

for that is what plants, weedz creepers do. what humans do. we learn to adjust. 

you

you taught us love and loss, joy and grief, patience. 

projector- rest

Rest

How do we rest in unguarded moments, 

the way water rests when it meets the shore, in undulating curves, 

the way a fallen leaf settles in the river, forming a pool within its folds for fish,

the way a tree trunk bends to find the light and new branches sprout along its length,

the way you lift your arm to let me in, the hour before sunrise?

projector poem: Cambodia

Cambodia

Giddy with the thrill of an unplanned holiday,

I’m in Phnom Penh with 3 uni mates I hardly know.

Just 21, with the world unfurling before us, 

we head straight to the tourist attractions. 

Shelf after shelf of skulls 

line the book case,

and i cannot turn away

from the 10,000 eyes,

eye sockets,

trained on me.

The space so quiet 

terror walks up from behind me 

to gaze at the displays together with me, 

and then at me.

The years telescope back to 1979

a black and white TV

playing a film

where side by side

a child toddles in a HDB flat, gurgling

before she falls into her mother's waiting arms, 

while a young girl, 

in the middle of a silent scream, 

falls back into a pit here,

her skull extracted and displayed now on this shelf. 

As I walk on through other 'attractions', 

my mind is seared with the grinning skulls,

in turn accusing me

forgiving me, 

holding me 

still.

‐----

projector poems: slip and slide 3

Slip and Slide 

30 years ago, I bought them jellies,

two each to be fair, red and green, chilled and conical.  

Same taste, but they preferred the red, 

a ruby that held the light before it slid down their throats, slippery sweet. 

They stood poised over the bin, she with a foot on the pedal, body curved towards the jelly, 

he falling back, eyes wide in his full moon face.

She went for the red first, 

peeling off the top and tilting her head back all at once, a dance with light. 

I could almost hear it slide down her gullet.  

He started with the green first, keeping the best for last. His five-year-old fingers fumbled, his red slid straight into the bin.  

They were always like that, she rushing for the best first, he toddling behind, careful. 

She now pours her love on us first too, uncaring if there will be any left for later, while he waits, guarding jealously his hoard of loving words, sometimes letting them go to waste.

-‐------

Many thanks to Xiang Yeow for ghe helpful critical eye! 

prompt. write a prose poem, recollecting a childhood incident and fictionalising it. 

Slip and slide 2 ( him).

Slip and Slide 

30 years ago, I bought them jellies,

two each to be fair, red and green, chilled and conical.  

Same taste, but they preferred the red, 

a ruby that held the light before it slid down their throat, slippery sweet. 

They stood poised over the bin, 

him with a foot on the pedal, body curved towards the jelly, 

she falling back, eyes wide in her full moon face.

He went for the red first, 

peeling off the top and tilting his neck back all at once, a dance with light. 

 I could almost hear it slide down his gullet.  

She started with the green first, keeping the best for last. Her five year old fingers fumbled, her red slid straight into the bin.  

They were always like that, he rushing for the best first, she toddling behind, careful. 

He now pours his love on us first too, uncaring if there will be any left for later while she waits, guarding jealously her hoard of loving words, sometimes letting them go to waste.

-‐------

Many thanks to Xiang Yeow for his helpful critical eye! 

prompt. write a prose poem, recollecting a childhood incident and fictionalising it. 

slip and slide 1

Slip and Slide 

30 years ago, I bought them jellies, two each to be fair, red and green, chilled and conical.  Same taste, but they preferred the red, a ruby that held the light before it slid down their throat, slippery sweet. 

They stood poised over the bin, him with a foot on the pedal, his whole body curved towards the jelly, she falling back, her eyes wide in her full moon face. He went for the red first, peeling off the top, and tilting his neck back, all at once, a dance with light.  I could almost hear it slide down his gullet.  

She started with the emerald first, keeping the best for last. Her five year old fingers fumbled, and her red slid straight into the bin.  

They were always like that, he rushing for the best first, she toddling behind, careful. He now pours his love on us first too, uncaring if there will be any left for later while she waits, guarding jealously her hoard of loving words, sometimes letting them go to waste.

pantoum 3

Pantoum for a baby

We waited for you.

You took your time 

to savour your first breath, 

to leave your place in the sky.

You took your time

for us to hold you,

to leave your place in the sky.

You gave us time to prepare

to hold you

to grow around you.

We had to be prepared 

for the curse that is to love and be loved.

We grow around you.

A lifetime of worry hangs over our heads now,

that is the curse to love and to be loved.

but you made us whole, well worth the wait.

A lifetime of worry hangs over our heads now

because we waited for you.

Yet you made us whole, well worth the wait

to savour your first breath.

slow

Today I am Slow

I cannot be rushed

I take one foot and raise it before the other and then repeat step after step

my co worker walks past me

a cyclist dashes past

a boy with his dog

they all go past me

today I am Slow

Panton 2

Pantoum for a baby

We waited for you,

you took your time 

to savour your first breath 

to leave your place in the sky.

You took your time

for us to hold you,

to leave your place in the sky,

we had to be prepared,

for us to hold you

make space for you, grow around you.

We had to be prepared 

for the curse that is to love and be loved,

make space for you and grow around you

a lifetime of worry hanging over our heads

for that is the curse to love and to be loved 

you made us whole, well worth the wait

a lifetime of worry hanging over our heads

We waited for you

you made us whole, well worth the wait

to savour your first breath.

Panton for a baby

I waited for you

you took your time 

to savour your first breath 

to leave your place in the sky

you took your time

for us to hold you

to leave your place in the sky

we had to be prepared

for us to hold you

make space for you, grown around you

we had to be prepared 

for the curse that is to love and be loved 

make space for you and grow around you

a lifetime of worry hanging over our heads

for the curse that is to love and be loved 

you made us whole, well worth the wait

a lifetime of worry hanging over our heads

I waited for you

you made us whole well worth the wait

to savour your first breath.

fie

jelly 3

Slip and Slide 

30 years ago, I bought them both jellies, two each to be fair, red and green, chilled and conical.  Same taste, but they always preferred the red, a ruby that held the light before it slid down their throat, slippery sweet. 

They stood poised over the bin, him with a foot on the pedal, his whole body curved towards the jelly, she falling back, her eyes wide in her chubby moon face. He went for the ruby first, peeling off the top, and tilting his neck back, all at once, a dance with light.  I could almost hear it slide down his gullet.  

She started with the emerald green first, keeping the best for last. Her five year old fingers fumbled, and her ruby slid straight into the bin.  

They were always like that, he rushing for the best first, she toddling behind, so careful. He now pours his love on us first too, uncaring if there will be any left for later while she waits, guarding jealously her hoard of loving words, sometimes letting them go to waste. 

fall into me

how do we rest in unguarded moments, 

the way water rests when it meets the shore, in undulating curves, 

the way a fallen leaf settles in water, creating a pool within its folds for fish

the way a tree trunk bends to find the light and new branches sprout along its length,

the way you lift your arm to let me in the hour before the sun rises? 

Jelly 2

Do you remember? I bought them both jellies, two each to be fair, red and green, conical.  I'm sure they tasted the same, but they always preferred the red - a ruby that let light through and tumbled down the slide to land in the ball pit that was their belly. 

Did you notice how they stood poised over the dustbin, ready to throw the wrapper and slide the jelly in one fluid movement? She went for the red first, peeling off the thin transparent top, and tilting her neck back with practised glee. He fumbled a bit with the green, keeping the best for last. 

You know what happened. When he managed to pry open the second, his ruby slid straight into the dustbin. 

They were always like that, weren't they? She rushing for the best first, he toddling behind, so careful. She now pours her love on us first too, uncaring if there will be any left for later while he waits, guarding jealously his hoard of loving words, sometimes letting them go to waste. 

elephant 3

Elephants 

1.   Just out of my mother's womb and in my hospital crib , I sense Lord Ganesha hovering above me, notepad in hand. He looks down at my sleeping form over his tusk, and crosses out a line or two, adds a new detail here. Is my life going by his plans? May it be so, always so. Now he is holding my children when they are scared (and me too), holding us tight with his trunk.

2.    Elephants have long memories. Can they recall the trumpeting of mammoths and mastodons in the Ice Age, can they recall the sprawling paradise they once roamed and shaped? 

 3.    Elephants live as long as humans, they mourn their dead, and care for their old and ill. On summer afternoons, mothers shift their mass to block the sun, to shade their babies as they nap. You don't mess with this vegetarian giant. They take revenge. 

4.    Baby elephants have no control over their trunks. They flip flap flop to make sense of their world. With their too large ears, they charge at ducks and geese and run back to hide under their mothers when the birds squawk at them. 

5. If you gaze into the eyes of an elephant, you will feel yourself drowning in a vortex, deep and light brown alternating, speckled with star dust, going back thousands of years, pinning us with questions: what have we done with their ancestors? What are we doing to them now?

6.   I may have ridden one when I was seven, along the street outside my aunt's place in India. As a child, when i needed to lull myself to sleep, I'd call up that image. It felt so safe up there, near the crown of his head, swaying side to side on his ambling walk, his hair prickling under me. Nothing could touch me. I rode again on my honeymoon -  Thailand. Then I learnt how elephants were tamed, torn from their mothers as babies, beaten and starved till their spirits were broken. I could never ride an elephant again.

7.    I love the sprawling stone temples in India, with elephants blessing us for bananas, in Mahapalipuram, Azhagar Kovil. Now I wonder how they were trained. The abject irony if temples tamed wild elephants with sticks and stones. Can we tie up Ganesha to seek his blessings? I hope not. I am scared to find out.

8.    Elephants converse with earth and wind in a language beyond us. Born cartographers, they feel the earth's rumbles through their wrinkled skin. The earth dances in seismic vibrations when one greets the other across the plains. They trace the paths of ancient rivers to lead their herds to water. As we in turn shape the land with our crude tools, we have become crosstalk in their dialogue with earth. How do they now maneuver the land, their history, their future? The dinosaur has become a bird.  What will the elephant become?

9.    They have have fought wars for us, ridden in royal games, crushed enemies skulls, and they have danced atop colourful balls in circus rings. 

10. Elephants uproot trees with their trunks, and pick up flowers by their stems. They wash their fruit before eating, and roll in mud to cool off. They spray each other with abandon and face off in thundering battles.

11. It is said earth teeters upon the their backs, as they balance on a tortoise. Earth quakes when they shrug their shoulders. We should take note, if we push them too hard, they will slip and we will fall. 

12. Ganesha the elephant god, the remover of all obstacles, the one whom the goddess shaped from sandalwood and breathed life into, to protect and guard her, to call her own, who broke off a tusk to keep writing, ever be my muse, to keep writing. 

elephant prose 2

Elephants 

1.    Lord Ganesha is over my crib writing my path for me, notepad in hand. He looks down at my sleeping form over his tusk, and crosses out a line or two, adding a new detail here. Is my life headed as planned? May it be so, always so. Now he is holding my children when they are scared (and me too), holding us tight with his trunk.

2.    Elephants have long memories. How far back do they go? Can they remember the trumpeting of mammoths and mastodons in the ice age, can they remember the earth as a sprawling paradise that they once roamed and shaped? 

 3.    They live as long as human beings, they mourn their they care for their sick and aged,  they look out for youngsters. You don't mess with this vegetarian giant. They take revenge. 

4.    Baby elephants have no control over their trunks, like a baby boy's penis.  They flop here and there. With their too large ears, they mock charge ducks and geese and run back to hide under their mothers when the birds squawk at them. They have eyes that can see into our souls. They ask what have we done with their ancestors? What are we doing to them now?

 5.   I may have ridden one when I was seven, along the street outside my aunt's place in India. i'm not sure if it happened, but as a child, when i needed to lull myself to sleep, I'd call up that image. I felt so safe up there near the crown of his head, swaying side to side on his ambling walk, his hair prickling under me. Nothing could touch me. I rode again on my honeymoon -  Thailand. Then I learnt how elephants were trained - tamed, torn from their mothers as babies, beaten and starved till their spirits were broken. I could never ride an elephant again.

 6.    I love the sprawling stone temples in India, with elephants blessing us for bananas, in Mahapalipuram, Azhagar Kovil. Now I wonder how they were trained. The abject irony if temples tamed wild elephants with sticks and stones. Can we tie up Ganesha to seek his blessings? I hope not. I am scared to find out.

 7.    Elephants converse with earth and wind in a language beyond us. Born cartographers, they feel the earth's rumbles through their wrinkled skins.The earth dances in seismic vibrations when one greets the other across the miles. They trace the paths of ancient rivers to lead their herds to water. As we in turn shape the land with our crude tools, we have become crosstalk in their dialogue with earth. How do they maneuver the land? Their history? Their future? The dinosaur has become a bird.  What will the elephant become?

8.    They have have fought wars for us, ridden in royal games, crushed enemies skulls.

9. They uproot trees with their trunks, and pick up flowers by their stems. They wash their fruit before eating and roll in mud to cool off. They spray each other with abandon and face off in thundering battles.

10. They say earth teeters upon the their backs, as they balance on a tortoise. Earth quakes when they shrug their shoulders. if we push them too hard, they will slip and we will fall. 

11. Born from the churning of the milk ocean, Airvata is your name. Born to guard your mother, Ganesha is your name. Born to protect me, Love is your name. 

Elephant prose poem

 

Elephants

 

1.    Lord Ganesha is over my crib writing my path for me, notepad in hand. He looks down at my sleeping form over his tusk, and crosses out a line or two, adding a new detail here. Is my life headed as planned? May it be so, always so. Now he is holding my children when they are scared (and me too), holding us tight with his trunk.

 

2.    Elephants have long memories. How far back do they go? Can they remember the trumpeting of mammoths and mastodons in the ice age, can they remember the earth as a sprawling paradise that they once roamed and shaped? 

 

3.    They live as long as human beings, they remember their dead and mourn them, they care for their sick and aged,  they work together as a family, looking out for youngsters. You don't mess with this vegetarian giant. They take revenge. 

 

4.    Baby elephants have no control over their trunks, like a baby boy's penis.  They flop here and there. With their too large ears, they mock charge ducks and geese and run back to hide under their mothers when the birds cluck at them. They have eyes that can see into our souls. They ask what have we done with their ancestors. What are we doing to them now.

 

5.    Elephant rides. I may have ridden one when I was seven, around the houses in India, - my aunt's place. i'm not sure if it happened, but as a child, when i needed to lull myself to sleep, I'd call up that image. I felt so safe up there near the crown of his head, swaying side to side on his ambling walk, his hair prickling under me. Nothing could touch me. I rode again on my honeymoon. Thailand. After that I learnt how elephants are trained, tamed, torn from their mothers as babies and beaten and starved till their spirits are broken. I could never ride an elephant again.

 

6.    I love the sprawling stone temples in India, with elephants blessing us for bananas, in Mahapalipuram, Azhagar Kovil. Now I wonder how they were trained. The abject irony if temples tamed wild elephants with sticks and stones. Can we tie up Ganesha to seek his blessings? I hope not. I am scared to find out.

 

7.    Elephants converse with earth and wind in a language beyond us. Born cartographers, they feel the earth's rumbles through their wrinkled skins, and trace the paths of ancient rivers to lead their herds to water and safety. As we in turn shape the land with our crude tools, we have become crosstalk in their dialogue with earth. How do they maneuver the land? Their history? Their future? The dinosaur has become a bird.  What will the elephant become?

8.    They have have fought wars for us, ridden in royal games, crushed enemies skulls.

9. They uproot trees with their trunks, and up flowers by their stems. They wash their fruit before eating and roll in mud to cool off. They spray each other with abandon and face off in thundering battles.

 10. Earth teeters upon their backs, as they balance on a tortoise. Earth quakes when they shift their shoulders. We should beware, not push them too hard, for if they slip, we will fall. 

 

elephants

Elephants

1. Lord Ganesha is over my crib writing my path for me, notepad in hand. He looks down at my sleeping form over his tusk, and crosses out a line or two, adding a new detail here. Is my life headed as planned? May it be so, always so. Now he is holding my children when they are scared (and me too), holding us tight with his trunk.

2. Elephants have long memories.How far back do they go? Can they remember the trumpeting of mammoths and mastodons in the ice age, can they remember the earth as a sprawling paradise that they once roamed and shaped? 

3. They live as long as human beings,  they remember their dead and mourn them, they care for their sick and aged,  they work together as a family, looking out for youngsters. You don't mess with this vegetarian giant. They take revenge. 

4. Baby elephants have no control over their trunks, like a baby boy's penis.  They flop here and there. With their too large ears, they mock charge ducks and geese and run back to hide under their mothers when the birds cluck at them. They have eyes that can see into our souls. They ask what have we done with their ancestors. What are we doing to them now.

5. Elephant rides. I may have ridden one as a child around the houses in India, - my aunt's place. i'm not sure if it happened, but when i needed to lull myself to sleep, I'd call up that image. I felt so safe up there near the crown of his head, swaying side to side on his ambling walk, his hair prickling under me. Nothing could touch me. 

I rode again on my honeymoon. Thailand. After that I learnt how elephants are trained, tamed, torn from their mothers as babies and beaten and starved till their spirits are broken. 

I could never ride an elephant again.

6. I love the sprawling stone temples in India, with elephants blessing us for bananas, in Mahapalipuram, Azhagar Kovil. Now I wonder how they were trained too. The abject irony if temples tamed wild elephants with sticks and stones. Can we tie up Ganesha to seek his blessings? I hope not. I am scared to find out.

7. Elephants converse with earth and wind in a language beyond us. Born cartographers, they feel the earth's rumbles through their wrinkled skins, and trace the paths of ancient rivers to lead their herds to water and safety. As we in turn shape the land with our crude tools, we have become crosstalk in their dialogue with earth. How do they manoever the land? their history? their future? 

8. Elephants can uproot a tree with their trunk, and also pick a flower off a bush. Such might and gentleness in one being... we are blessed to walk the earth with them.. for how long, for how long.. more?.

9. The dinosaur has become a bird.  what will you become? you babe fought wars for us, been in Royal games, crushed enemies skulls. you have lifted logs and taken pathetic underlings for rides. 

10. elephant legend. holding up earth. 

11. in my dreams elephant holds me up atill