On Retirement
A celebrated life transition, is retirement,
Freed from the daily grind of requirement.
You are released to a life of leisure,
Hence you should feel free, this to treasure.
You'd have finished your duties to your children,
And should be glad to baby-sit your grand children.
To holy places you can go on a pilgrimage,
When your mind will be charged with good image.
Plan your personal financial planning,
Ensuring that considerable amount is in saving.
Life will allow you to yourself re-invent,
Working in your golden years with content.
It's time to live with a sense of self respect and dignity,
And can pursue your dreams with all possibility.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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On Reading Mythili's Journey To Himalayas
On reading my friend MYTHILY'S
'A Journey-from the depths of the mind
to the Heights of Himalayas.'
This day across an article
Chanced I, eftsoons to dwell,
An article, presented by my friend—
It was a laudable marvel-so well!
About her holy pilgrimage
To Himalayas—Lord Shiva's Abode;
Over-powering many a tribulation
That beset her, as she strode.
Many a gripping travelogue,
Written by luminaries eminent,
Have I gone through and through,
But the sentiment there was always worldly-bent!
But this fluid rendition excelled most,
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Personal Best
There is a question controversial,
About the use of stimulants artificial,
By the sporting athletes, their performance,
In the sporting arena to enhance.
Sports icon Lance Armstrong,
Was stripped of his titles as wrong,
When the Tour de France cycling event he won,
For a record of seven times in a run.
He beat the malady-Cancer-with drugs,
And when his tests proved positive for drugs,
His fan-following world wide were shocked,
And all cancer patients with ire were up cocked.
All sports organizations consider the drugs unethical,
As they are subversive of fair play on a field level.
In sports the Olympic Motto is writ larger,
As CITIUS, ALTIUS, FORTIUS (faster, higher, stronger)
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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I Will Certainly Marry Him Again
Clinging to him as a new bride,
With a heart full of hope and pride,
I stepped into this married circle
With him, who was till then my uncle.
Nineteen years have we worn,
Since Man and Wife we were sworn;
Each one of these lovely days,
Has shown me one by one of his ways.
A person who doesn't believe in God,
As one from above, ruling with a golden rod;
Who isn't good, out of fear of the Lord's quake,
But is so just for goodness' sake:
Who reveres even the meanest living thing,
And at Nature's beauty whose thoughts do cling—
Whose sunny heart, anger has seldom clouded,
And who with a buoyant spirit has ever been shrouded.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Cherry Tree
The Cherry Tree
There was a Cherry Tree,
In our house at Number Three;
‘T was a variety from Singapore,
Presented by a friend, now no more.
On the western side of our house,
To be away from the straying cows;
It was planted—a sapling, rare,
And nurtured with ample care.
Soon with shoots it grew tall,
And was high above the compound wall;
Pride in us did surely swell,
To behold the tree growing so well,
Its branches now did spread and sprawl,
And to the next house too it did crawl;
Its shade permeated through to the hall,
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Indian Dances
The Indian culture is most diverse,
So are the Indian dances to traverse;
There are many Indian Classical dances,
And so are the many regional Folk dances.
A physical and visual form is dance,
It appropriates the spectator to a trance;
The colourful attire enchants the audience,
And the different ornaments amuse their sense.
The Natya Sastra by Sage Bharata was propounded,
And the Indian Classical dance on a grammar founded;
Indian culture with four Vedas itself prides,
And with Natya Sastra known as the fifth Veda, it strides.
Dances were originally performed in a temple,
Mainly to entertain Gods and Godesses and people;
Accompanying were the drums, flute and other instruments,
To synchronize with the music and the dancers ‘ movements.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Escapade
In our lovely city of Chennai,
A big trench was deeply dug, nigh
To the neat pedestrian platform,
For laying pipes of forms and so on.
There came a corpulent buffalo,
And on the muddy trench low,
Espied its calf struggling in woe;
With celerity, it sprang down to tow.
The passers-by, saw the two-some,
Bracketed in the trench—so awesome—
Some passed by, speaking with pity;
The playful brats in glee, sang a ditty.
Some passed by engrossed in their own care,
Some flew past with no time to spare for the pair;
Something must be done to retrieve—some thought—
‘ Nothing by us could be done'—so some fought.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Penitence
PENITENCE
"Oh! Mummy, Mummy, see, "
Came rushing my little girl of three;
Into my fold she snuggled tight,
Fully exhausted by the horrible fright.
Her scream of terrible scare,
The maternal heart could hardly bear;
Twitching to keep her fear at bay,
Kissed I, her rolling tears away.
"Why my dear, did you scream?
Were you really in your dream? "
Enquired I stroking her fringe of hair,
And to pry, left my easy-chair.
"Ah! mum, there—there, see—
Ghost, a ghost—under the tree! "
Mumbled out the innocent child,
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Sky-Lab
Sky-lab, Sky-lab, the air did reverberate,
Rich or poor; young or old; literate or not:
All did discuss, the sky-lab's state,
And the dreadful destiny of mankind's lot.
The world was taut with tension,
Over NASA's debacle at exploration—
And was gripped with apprehension,
Of the faltering sky-lab's disintegration.
Under one great mantle of terror
Rocked the world with mute fear;
It chid America for the unpardonable error,
In the computation of the space-craft's steer.
Panic-stricken, some did flee,
In the fold of their kith and kin to be:
From place to place, from country to country,
People fled, to avoid the falling debris.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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The Common Crow
The Common Crow, "Caw-Caw"—with its familiar sound
Is a harmless bird very adaptable on land
Almost all over the world it is invariably found
Except in South America, Antarctica and New Zealand.
It is of average size—in color—grey and black
And abounds, teems and thrives in many numbers
Where other birds' survival is considerably slack
As it is the most intelligent of its bird family members.
The Ravens, Magpies, Rooks, the Black-birds
And the Jays—all belong to the family of the crow
They are all hunting migratory birds
Who forage together like the crow.
It has shining black feathers, is clever and curious
It is omnivorous and the diet is very diverse
It eats grains, rodents, insects and is mischievous
And swoops down to grasp things from man's source.
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poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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