Homecoming!

Heavens accomplished
and a hell, gone through;
A home awaits me.

 Known faces and
familiar voices
surround me.

A certain comfort and
strangeness of the native
grips my soul.

I can smell
 the fragrance
of those times.

Those antique days
of the past, chronicles
colorful tales.

An archaic and
unsullied child
was left behind.

To satiate an
yearning that
 never ceased.

To satisfy a
burning desire
that hardly stops.

Fire in the belly
brings both
survival and extinct.

That fire of passion
brought me places
yet drove me home.

All agitated self
needs a home
to go back to.

A weary wanderer
with a fatigued spirit
has to get back home.

A serene slumber
and an acquainted bed
awaits its old pal.

Saravanan

Lessons from an Antiquated Life

There once was a life close to nature,
Where folks tilled the soil together.
        Hangs on the wall as an art portrait!-
        The by-gone days of a community spirit.
How the times we live, soon turn folklore!

Saravanan

Poetic style: Limerick

The Street Vendor Lost:

Shouting and barefooted, entered a vendor.
Bargaining her way in, she battles the seller.
    Proud of the deal, my Mom mutters:
    Where do these vendors all vanish?
Is she preparing a list to hit the Big Bazaar?

Saravanan

Poetic Style: Limerick

    

Shitty Nation!

There lives a man who cleans shit,

In the name of Caste, people insist. 

      Left behind in a great nation,

      In deep shit, he seeks compassion.

Call the emperor! Who gave him a clean chit?

- S

Poetry style: Limerick

நீல நிலா

Boxed Existences

Boxed Existences

Ostracized by civilized hearts,
A dalit girl with dark complexion
built a house out of dark nights;
Stayed within it, day in and day out.

Oppression was a daily experience.

Humiliation, a day to day reality.

On the search for herself, people around
Offered a hundred labels, suggestions abound.
Her neighbor next door has an opinion:
That she's a girl with questionable character.
Her ex-boy friend has an 'honest' remark:
That she's a slut, playing the victim card.

Emptied bottles of wine helped;
Kept the whining away, scars remained.

Life tendered no respect;
Death promised no dignity, and so
Sleep was her daily kiss of death- often,
She slipped her way into broken slumber.

Buried between the pillow and the bed,
wanders her mind like a bird
that sits on the tree of happiness
for a moment, on the sands
of disappointment, after few seconds.
Frustration looms and sadness chokes.

As she keeps thinking them all over again:
A theater of internal conflict, inside her mind.
Who're these humans? she wants to know.
Struck by realization, she found
They're, but entrapped beings;
living in their boxed existences.

Chuckled, as she thought of it,
Repaired she, her broken self.
Despite that comeback,
The circus of civilization
never seizes to amuse! Only
that now she has the last laugh!



Saravanan

Delusions of Light

Delusions of Light

No dreams, this Diwali
For my starving stomach
Has long given up
On your false promises
Of ache din and light.

Am I the poverty
You strive to eradicate?
Beat the bloody drum!
Demons are but dancing
In the delusions of light!

Flashing lanterns loom,
Eclipsing our daily gloom.
Your mad rush to progress
Had put us all to distress!

Am I the darkness,
You intend to eliminate?
Beat the bloody drum!
Demons are but dancing
In the delusions of light!

When there is no ears
Listening to our plight,
Sounds of your sparklers
Deafens our senile spirits!

Am I the anti-national,
You're hunting for?
Beat the bloody drum!
Demons are but dancing
In the delusions of light!

Woke up before the dawn,
My dad, a daily laborer.
You paid him with a pittance!
Disappointed, he returned drunk.

Are we the urban naxals,
You were snooping for?
Beat the bloody drum!
Demons are but dancing
In the delusions of light!

Doomed for generations,
We ask for our due, you offer
sweets to sickened hearts?
Land is but our body and soul - not
a Diwali gift for your corporate pals!

No dreams, this Diwali! 
No! they're not for sale.
Beat the bloody drum!
Demons are but dancing
In the delusions of light!

In Agony,
S, an urban naxal. 

Veena- The happiest!

(A dad's tribute to his daughter)

Oh daughter, my dear!
such a joyous being that you are.
 a delightful music,you render.
how you paint your father's heart,
with colors of happiness! Darling!
the umbrella of care you extend
showers me with thousands
of drops of love, every day.
Any language is needless, yes!
for twinned hearts to express.
the beauty of the hills
make us so speechless,
as we see it flash
by the dew that sleeps
on the lap of its grass.
As I walk with you, holding your hands
How I wish, the path never ends!
Moved by affection, feel I,  sometimes
that none has lived a life like this
ever on earth- Oh daughter, my dear!
such a joyous being that you are.
 a delightful music, you render.
how you paint your father's heart,
with colors of happiness! Darling!
Trees, sighted far-away ask
if you're the angel they seek.
how fascinated by you, they blossom.
What use are the temples?
and the gods that reside?
for all our prayers, Oh beloved!
your smiles suffice.
Moved by affection, feel I,  sometimes
that none has lived a life like this
ever on earth- Oh daughter, my dear!
Looking at your face, one wonders
how moon's beauty on the sky, shrinks.
hiding itself beneath the clouds, she
asks you for some light's gleam.
Why don't you take her into your arms?
Lift her spirit up and send her home?
Moved by affection, feel I,  sometimes
that none has lived a life like this
ever on earth- Oh daughter, my dear!
such a joyous being that you are.
a delightful music,you render.
how you paint your father's heart,
with colors of happiness!

Na Muthukumar's ( Anandha Yazhai )
Translated by Saravanan V

Written by one of my favourite lyricists. The song is known for its spellbinding lyrics. He won a National Film Award for Best Lyrics for the same.

Link for the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0AqW1YpIR2o&list=PLtMkp_0dp-j3M3gbv6VCiAcmJnjpnLsO0

Trains!
India's moving villages.
People moot dialogues,
talk and depart
Often full of chaos
and conversations.
Sometimes, music.
Otherwise, merely
Cacophony.

Trains!
Temporary communities
From family history
To present polity,
Conversations in compartments.
Soothing, mostly.
Sometimes, controversial.
Exercise care
Lynch mobs everywhere.

Trains!
Carry tales.
Urban legends
In locomotion.
Some are stories of arrival.
Others are fables of departure.
A few travellers have neither;
their journey becomes but a saga.

Saravanan

வெறுமனே கடந்து போகும்
நாட்கள் அத்தனையிலும்
பொருளற்று பயணம் செய்யும்
புதுயுக நாயகன் நான்.

தனிமைப் பொழுதுகளில்
இருளுடன் போர் தொடுப்பவன்.
கண்களில் கனவுகள் எனக்கில்லை
எதிர்காலம் அதை நம்பியதில்லை.

வெற்றிகள் மீதும் பற்றிருப்
பதாகவும் தெரியவில்லை.
நீ வந்தாய்! வெற்றிடம் நீங்கச்
செய்தாய், மெதுவாய் மாறிய துலகம்.

வெண்ணிலா நீ துணை நிற்பதால்
இரவுகள் இனிமை சேர்க்கிறது.
நிகழ்காலத்தில் நீ வசிப்பதால்
கனவுலகம் கசப்ப தில்லை.

வரும் காலம் அது வந்துவிட்டு போட்டும்
ஒரு வேளை உலக மழிந்தால்
புதுயுகம் நெய்வேன் நீநான் வாழ.
பல தவம் செய்வேன் நின் கரம் சேர.

முற்றுப்புள்ளியில் முடிவதல்ல வாழ்க்கை
முழுமையா யதை வாழ்வதிலே என்றாய்
என்தேவி, எனை மாற்றும் காதலியே!
எனை மாற்றும் காதல் நீயே!

சரவணன்

மாலை மயக்கம்

உருகும் பனியிரவில்
வருடும் காற்றைப் போல்
வந்து வந்து செல்லும்
அவள் நினைவுகள்.

மயங்கும் மனவெளியில்
மருகும் வெண்ணிலா போல்
தந்துவிட்டுச் செல்கிறாள்
பலக் கனவுகள்.

உறங்கா என்விழிகளில்
சூரியன் போல் சிவப்பாய்
சிந்திவிட்டுச் சென்றாள்
அவள் சிந்தனைகள்.

புரண்டு படுக்கும்
தேகக்கூட்டினில்
தடம் புரண்டுகிடக்கும்
என்னெஞ்சே சொல்!

அமைதிப் பூங்காவில்
அணுசக்தி ஒப்பந்தமா?
சிறுவனென நினைத்திருந்தேன்;
அணுகுண்டு வைப்பது ஏன்?

காதலென்று கூறிவிடாதே,
கதிகலங்க வைத்துவிடாதே!
காதலினால் படும் சோதனை,
சாதலினும் கடும் வேதனை.

ஈர்க்கும் கூர்விழிகள்
கார்மேகக் குழல் களைத்தால்
பால்போல் வெண்ணிறம்
அவள் கண்ணம்.

பாற்கடலில் கண்டெடுத்த
சிறுமுத்தென பற்கள்.
அல்லிப்பூ தேன் சிந்த
அவள்திரு விதழ்கள்.

ஆபரணத் தங்கம்
அலங்கரிக் கவில்லை
எனினும் அவள் சிரிப்பில்
ஆராதனை செய்யும் அழகு.

பார்வையில் கரைந்த யிந்த
பாவியின் மனம் தினம்
பதுமையின் இடைதனில்
இனி தனைத் தொலைக்கும்.

சரவணன்

Life Lessons With Mani

There is a boy named Mani;
brings he to me, the sweetest honey.
Mani spares time to spend together;
Stories he tells, goes on forever.
Will the rats ever realize? time's no money!

Saravanan
(July 2018, Limerick)

The Impaired Civilization

Once there was a girl, bespectacled.
Nights turn bright when she smiled.
People called her disabled.
Some sympathized, rest hobbled.
She gave two hoots, unconcerned.
The Girl is all fine, others limped.

Saravanan

Poetic Style: Limerick

Waiting for your word!

Thousands of days have passed
Since we shook hands and
Travelled together all this while.

No tragedy has struck me so hard;
Miseries million moved me not, yet
Your killing silences pierces my heart.

Penning new sonnets of suffering,

Plenty of my pens have retired hence;

Resentful of the chap, hapless.

Thousands of nights, passed by.
Since we parted ways, this solitary heart
treaded trails of travails, all this while.

Lapsed are dark nights and cold moons
As I still stay recluse in my room,
Withering away, waiting for your word.

As time turns my hair grey;
And age wrinkles my youth away-
In my funeral, tell your grand son that

Here is a man, who spent all days
Withering away waiting for your word;
That is as buried as my soul in thy heart.

Saravanan

Guardians of Culture

Keep off the grass!
says a warning board.
but the little lilly 
awaits its ardent admirer.

From Plants to trees,

Shrubs and bushes- they're

cropped and trimmed

and axed to align.

Chirping birds sing

charming songs but 

the gates are fastened by 

the guards of the garden.

Keep off the grass!

says a warning board.

but the little lilly

awaits its ardent admirer. 

From children to teachers,

Big boys to small girls - 

there're orders and instruction

crafted to cultural perfection.

Chirping birds sing

charming songs but 

the doors of minds fastened 

by the lords of the land.

Trek through a forest- immerse
Into the wilderness of its wisdom
Immense possibilities exist
Choice is yours, forest or garden?

Saravanan

The Disputed Romance

I look for thee on the sky,
the moon whispers thy secrets.
Stars so engrossed in little gossips,
they stare at me and giggle.

I look for thee on the rainbow,
All its colors fritter away.
Rain drops hit; winds blow,
To set me free from your sway.

You be this, you be that.
Can I keep my eyes shut?
When you, my fair lady!
Move so elegantly as you strut?

Warmth of the Moon, I feel.
White bright circle is not all I see.
Little stories of the stars, I read- to
Look at the canvas is my heed.

Lonely passer-by passes by the river.
He has no intention to fish
In the running rage of a runnel.
He slurps a few water to nourish.

Now tell me, Oh sweet heart!
Need I to fathom
the depth of an ocean
to understand it's passion?

Truth has many colors.
Yours may be yellow.
Mine may be maroon- Yet
it's neither black, not white.

As I turn your book
page after page,
The world awaits
unspoken truth.

As I unwrap the gift of life
one after the other,
The beauty lays bare;
look how I found you in me!

Saravanan.

The Battle Within

After all the running around
for those reserved scholarships

that unpaid bills and

the piling up interests

still stare at you.

Who will but tell

the young generation

That life follows 

no linear equation.

that to work our way upwards 

thy career is no staircase

Semi-starved stomach

raise the rage of the heart-for

The struggle within is real.

Sulking at the office desk-

Where to survive 

is to thrive

join the capitalist 

drive to disaster!

Its competition model 

is to do or die.

Mirror their conscience.

embarass them,You'd.

There is a standard 

for everything.

any different you are; 

a problem hence -Your

unpredictability threatens!.

Success is such a shallow pond.

it lacks the wilderness 

of the river of passion.

Yet, when you walk away from it:

Like a firefly in a dark space

You remain an oddity of sort;

niether here nor there.

Schooling a herd mentality

is disrespect to diversity- Remember!

when the last door is closed

surrounded by smokescreen

one puff at a time- pristine souls

leave unannounced- for

the struggle within is real. 

Lonely nights would tell us how

our fragile spirits are torn

between the eerie silence

of the otherwise noisy world

and the vociferous voice 

from within that is 

otherwise calm and composed

You sleep over things 

that belong to the past;

brood over events yet to surpass.

Do you ever realize? You seek for 

truth that is beyond your bounds;

that truth, if you deserve it

will find its way through.

Saravanan

On the Moral Bankruptcy of Our Times:-

 If you observe closely, the average case in a market-driven society remains that: those who work solely for themselves (self-interest) get the best material benefits (reward) and those who work for their people (selfless) not only get the least benefits (demoralize) but also risk their lives. Did you check the market rate for selling your soul? Do it soon! Society is getting morally bankrupt faster than ever with absolutely no regard for the "moral limits of our markets"(Sandel,M) But why do you care? After all you're a product in the market. 🥂

Saravanan

Bullets of Misery: 

   As a conscious voter in a democratic society, if you do not vote for a compassionate, responsible and competent candidate as your representative- who does not make you believe in an imagined enemy out of your fellowmen -who abstains from drowning you into false promises but can deliver on what a moral and an inclusive leadership calls for- whose subscription to a party or an ideology does not eclipse his or her allegiance to the constitution-then be prepared to face the bullets of misery. When you cast your vote, solely or tacitly to further your interest on caste, religion and business, your society's path to hell is paved with all your dysfunctional votes for bigotry, hatred and despotism. Then the monster of violence (see, Khair,T) is clearly in your drawing room. Let that sink in. 

Not Yours, S

My Unfathomable Self: 

Where can I find myself on this earth?
Into the woods of human passion?
Or on the hills of accumulated wealth?
Who am I? A lonely traveller that
lost his path? A shipwrecked brother
that swam with the tides of time?
Sometimes I wonder, how certain questions
remain unanswered for ever!- Oh thank god!
May they not be answered, never!
For as long as the puzzles of the past;
And the mystery of the future last,
I'll survive to see the spellbinding drama
That unfolds between,
every dawn and the dusk.

Saravanan.

A Tale of Twisted Fate

Her oscillating earrings
hum the musings of my heart.
Any wonder why
my nerve cells dance
to the tune of her
scintillating giggles?

She's all the fairy tales I heard
enacted in front of me.
Looking at her speak
 is like watching
a Star Wars movie
When I'm stoned.

A Word of Caution:
Listen not to her words.
It's seductive and sublime.
Mesmerizing and magical.
but don't daydream.- She'll be
married and gone too soon.

Her oscillating earrings
now taunts at my tale.
Every story has two sides- but
an invitation card
and an obituary
don't go together.

Saravanan

 Symphony of the Soul...

As I unravel the complexities of life
Slicing My Self piece by piece
What remains of it,
puzzles me.

As I go down the memory lane,
Brooding over the past event by event
What reminds of it,
Fills me with guilt.

As I walk the lonely road,
Thinking through possibilities one by one
What I see,
Haunts me.

As I kill a part of me- every day,
I resurrect thought by thought
To reconstitute myself:
Micro-deaths day by day!

The Ghost of Yesterday,
The Bedaal Today
And the Unknowable devil
On its way!-

Pushed by the Past,
Dead and gone;
Driven by the Present-
here and now;

Dictated by destiny,
Whose time is yet to come;
Interspersed is me, tuned up
to the temporal matrix of time.

Over the burdensome memories
of the bygone days
away from the gripping reality
of the gravitating contempo;

Sings a song,
the soul of mine.
for things to come,
down the line.

How can I tell you that
My Consciousness is but,
A day-to-day composition of
The daily music of life?

Saravanan