Tuesday, 17 July 2018

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





Sunday, 8 July 2018

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

Thursday, 28 June 2018

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.

Wednesday, 21 March 2018


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

Monday, 8 January 2018

 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

Monday, 13 November 2017

In Memory of our Childhood Days!

Mindless Pursuit
of Material Wealth;
Knowledge and Power-
Is all that is to the journey
of the Modern Man.

Meaningless accomplishments,
Gadgets to shape our digital self.
Yet, turn a blind eye to
the pervasive reality of social evils;
often in search of
Safe, secure and comfortable life,
at the cost of our environment
and basic human right-
is all that adulthood is made out of.

Where are those days?
Of colorful caricatures of the earth we lived;
Of curious inquiry into the worldviews;
Indulging in random acts of infant industry
Ever in search of simple pleasures,
Our childhood days were characterized by:
Camaradeship- never Celebrity status;
Wisdom and Values; fear of no surveillance.
Principles-not Power:
Weren’t those the ideals!
when we were still growing up?
as we turned eighteen, then
who stole our childlike humor?

Progress in life has come to mean
moving away from the childhood we cherished;
through the patchy land of adolescence;
and into that parsimonious land called adulthood.
How conveniently we were asked
To forget those days of unrelenting
Fun, fantasy and fanaticism;
That our wonderlands of childhood offered.
To abandon those days of unconditional love;
to dismiss that unadulterated smile, distributed
to every fellow mate we met and shared our lives with.

To withdraw from those
 ever optimistic days
when we all were innocently
following our tender dreams
with energy and excitement,
only to plunge into
the paranoia of growing up;
as we turned eighteen.

Who took away that thrill
of trying new things
of questioning fearlessly
of wondering
about the magnanimity of this universe
for hours and for hours!

When shall we ever return
to those days?
Back into that primitive sense of being !
into the Spontaneity called Living
Back into that uncivilized,yet raw pursuit of
Human life.

Happy Children’s day!

Saravanan