The Killer Tsunami of 2004
O see there, a calm, hand-tied public servant
lets his eyes to flooding tears flowing down
being caught into the web of collusion
between the advocate and the police.
A Tsunami of a mind-boggling complaint
of his daughter-in-law of five months wedded life
and forty days- stay in his house with his son,
alleging demand of dowry, harrassment and cheating,
embellished by the usual rubbish and lies
by a shameless, criminal advocate
and empowered by the money making women cops,
made the sub - inspector surging towards his house
on the dreadful morn of Sunday, the 26th Dec.2004,
lashing out on the gate and waking them up,
pulling him back along with his wife and son
to the fecund station of breeding dowry charges
and kept them under station- arrest.
As the inspector was away to serve
where the tidal waves of great temblor
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Merciful Hand of America
Sad are the hearts which watched in calm
when the surrendered and the bravely stood tigers,
the civilian Tamils of Eelam of SriLanka
were maimed, butchered and raped
by a lawless army, with the cannons
of some cannibalistic Asian nations.
Silent are the tears that fall
from the blind eyes of the UNO,
which had been in deep slumber for a year,
when the Tamils were treated inhumanly in fenced camps.
It is now waking up to browse the dusty CDs back.
Remorseful is the mind of British,
a sinner who gave the uncut fruit of freedom,
to the majority, Buddhist Sinhalese to rule,
but in the case of India, the land was rent into two.
Shocked is the cosmopolitan brain of America,
whose hand crushed terror and cremated the dictators,
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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A rare gypsy rarely seen!
A gypsy was left to the mercy of God,
along with her two children in rags.
To give her hell, her husband has left her there.
Dowry or giving birth to only girls,
adultery or ambition to have a shelter
was not the cause for their wrangle.
“ Stop ranting me in filthy words in the bazaar”
She pleaded but he evinced no change.
She complained to the police and he was
driven out of that coastal village.
In the late mid-night, when I went out of my office,
I saw something dark at the verandah
of a class-room nearby.
I walked slowly there with some fear
as small snakes would lie on the sand.
A lady was squatting beside the wall,
huddling together her sleeping children.
“ Don’t stay here. Get lost! ” I shouted.
“ In the morning I’ll go out. Till then, permit me”,
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poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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I Never Ever Miss You, Dear!
Losing my comrades in the gunfight
with the extremists in the North East of India,
I wended my way through the wooded hills,
day and night with weeping sores in my thighs;
sighted a church in a tribal hamlet,
entered, fainted and fell down on the floor.
Thoughts of the past sidled up to the fore of my mind.
When my kin are tillers, hers are ruthless killers.
Her near-ones are robbers and rustlers
but mine are eager-beavers.
We never knew, we were riven by religions too.
Diana sparked her heart with the fire
and towards me tantalizing looks she did dart.
She was in my blood and I was in her soul.
When her parents found a groom
who had the highest record of crimes in the area,
both of us had no courage to tell our parents
why we were dolorous and sleepless.
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Fire Feared not the Queen!
The Rajput Ratan singh came to the throne
of Chittorgarh, the chivalrous land,
when Khilji, having all the Northern kings won,
turned to West, to put his foes to the brand.
The Turks made a blockade of the fort
to catch Padmini, the marvelous Mewar’s queen,
and take to Khilji’s harem, and to distort
the pride of Rajputs who in war weren’t mean.
By war, the besieging Sultan found no end;
“A glance will turn me to Delhi”, he cried.
To cease the fight, the wise chose to lend
her image, arranging her mien to hide.
On a scaffold amidst a lake
the queen of the martial race was to stand
and the mad Turk from a mirror had to take
the flashed figure of the nymph made by God’s wand.
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Kailash of the South (Coimbatore, TamilNadu, India)
A huge boulder slopes on another
lying on the top of the tor,
and in the cave-like abode formed,
reigns supreme the self-developing ‘Linga’.
With an awesome, high, tower-like rock
standing nearby as the kingly tower,
overlooking at the Siruvani river below
on the peak of the seventh hill,
shrouded often by passing mists,
the vast mountainous terrain
offers a fascinating sight!
11
My God! Still we are in wonder,
how at sixty, we reached
the serene retreat of Lord Siva!
A colossus earthquake in times of yore
had caused these seven hills one over the other.
This Kailash of the South lures the pilgrims
who climb over a flight of stone-steps,
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The Tragedy Wrought To An Innocent Boy
When she longed to do a P.G. course,
Along with her friends in a Deemed Varsity,
Her parents thwarted her plan
and arranged to betrothe her to a boy,
working abroad, promising some jewellery.
Fate brought the groom back home
but the marriage was solemnized,
as he was capable of finding a job in the Gulf.
For what purpose, she convinced her hubby
to use safety covers to nix conceiving,
she and her parents alone knew.
In the first week of connubial life,
She got the bracelet from him for wearing
and told him it was misplaced at her father’s house.
The groom and his parents ignored it.
Then she made a row urging her in-laws
to spend for her higher studies.
When the nod was not given,
she started ructions with her mother-in-law.
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Manufacturers Of Garments In Thirupur (TamilNadu-India)
The manufacturer of hosiery garments
has got the name 'Supplier' from the buyers of garments.
He has to procure dyed or undyed yarn,
for making garments with charming designs,
embroidered or printed at the front and back.
Knitting, dyeing, compacting, washing and padding,
the Supplier arranges to do, to bring the streakless fabric.
My God! He remains sleepless in tension, till
the cutting, stitching, checking, ironing and packing are over.
The frets and worries cast him down for ever.
Borrowed loans lie in wait to bury him deep in agony.
Dare not launch on this business after sixty
as the merchandiser keeps you within the factory
and earns his commissions doing outdoor work.
He brings in his own men and women to work
and blackmail the Supplier demanding increased wages,
for the workers, whose welfare he always talks aloud.
His nifty talk and wide knowledge in all areas of work
make the Supplier build castles for earning huge profit.
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Tears of the Gods!
Once he wore his nine-tasselled towel
around his hip bearing a drum at front of his midrif
he would sing aloud to invoke Lord Ayyanar,
half-buried at the outer base of the bund
of our village rain-fed tank,
to help him beating the drum
for moving the feet of his three daughters
with parrot-topped brass pots over their heads.
People near and far took his troop
at the time of festivals, being mesmerized
by the mavis of his dancing angels. 11
But he never gave up the service
of drumming up on the ghouls-howling tank bund
when the moon was out and hid.
The sound could be heard
by the sleepless elders of our village.
He would swim across the river
and reach the village on the other bank
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The Haunting Mystery of Kollihills(Hills of the Ghosts)
I sallied out for the first time in 1980
with my friend, skillful to cut jokes,
on a sinuous road with curves and bends
to Kollihills well known for herbs and rills.
When the bus rolled down a little
and crawled up on a hair-pin bend,
we were speechless with fear-laid eyes.
We were off the bus at noon
and looked at the way down
leading to the famous water-falls.
“ Shall I come with you? ”-a fair lady
of our age in a sable sari
and a bunch of jasmine on her head
asked and smiled at us.
We looked at each other and grinned:
“ Oh, you’re welcome”
We put on frills to our speech
and queried if she wasn’t feared.
Smiles were her silent answer.
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