Descendants of Darkness!


Where are my new clothes?
asked a tender voice
Where is the money?came a reply.
-Cashless economy!

Where are my new clothes?
asked an innocent heart.
Once the septic tanks are cleaned, came a reply.
-Swaccha bharat!

Where are my new clothes?
asked a widow's kid.
After the harvest, came a reply.
-Vikas, on its way.

'No cash in the economy', muttered the tender voice.
'Once dad returns', informs the innocent heart.
'After the harvest', anticipates the widow's kid.
Children of the Nation Poor, chuckle.

' What is Diwali?' asked the Children.
Victory of light over darkness, said
the bare-chested oldman nearby.
'So where is the light?'they wanted to know!

We are but, descendants of darkness;
that is what we know, came the reply.
So children asked, 'why no clothes for us?'
The old man clarified: You don't need them, the country does.

From prosperity to happiness, no sharing it celebrates.
Crackers to Jewellery, all spending it celebrates.
Clothes of modesty and Clothes of decency
You don't need them, the Country does.

There is light. There is darkness.
What do they celebrate? wondered, the kids.
There is darkness despite light!
Why do they celebrate? wondered, the oldman.

In the shuttled conversation
between the Young and the Old,
Diwali was celebrated. -both
In light and in darkness.

Saravanan

To Gauri,

The fearless soul.

By a growing sense of numbness;
Whose collective conscience won’t prick
How sad! fellow citizens, mourn not-
But celebrate,
When bullets dodged your body.
I realize truth is not
for the feeble-minded folks;
It is for the free spirit.
Not for the devoted
Who prostrate before
The altar of intolerance.
I realize truth is
For the strong heart
Not for the dimwit,
Ever gullible for political profit.

Freedom of speech,
So unaffordable
Cost us, you!
How much more
Should we shell out?
To awaken the last soul
Whose middle-class slumber
Is ever-lasting.

Narrow-minded thugs
Wanted to get rid of you.
Perhaps they saw
an embodiment of fearlessness,
staring at them;
Perhaps they didn’t see
The eternity of indomitable spirit
Inspiring people
For all ages to comes.

Swords of Saffron
Understand not,
Ideas cannot be killed.
Fire can be put out,
Sunshine not.
Flames of knowledge create
Ignited Minds
For generations to come.

Phansare, Dhabolkar and Kalburgi's
Mightier Pens illuminated this Nation.
We realize how noble truth-seeking is!
How powerful and overwhelming truth can be!
That blind faith and statistical lies
Get crushed under its mighty weight.

The Rational South remembers!
Religious bigotry everywhere
In the darkness of despotism,
Murder! What a cowardly act!
Should we show them the nib of your pen?
To demonstrate courage?

The baton of your glorious pen
Is passed on to all of us.
I will write,
I will speak,
to save and secure
facts from fake news;
to keep walking the path
of uprightness and virtues.

Saravanan

Making Sense of a Lifetime!


The Universe yearns to express-
And the humankind is obsessed.
Jailed within its inferior ideas;
Masked in the clothes of ingenuity.

Time and Space, interspersed
Thoughts, arrest and hold us;
Thoughts alone can liberate us-
Thesis and the Antithesis.


The Universe yearns to express-
And the mankind so engrossed,
To make sense of the Enchanting-
Music of the restless soul!

The Mythical and the Marvelous:
So Majestic and So Unconquerable!
The Enigma of Nature-yet
Unveiled day after day.


The Universe and its greatest pleasures
are available for all of us- but
Mankind is sleeping over,
too tired after last night's party.

Life's Most profound moments
Occur on Regular days.
The Sense and the Significance of being
Shall be revealed unto Oneself.

Greatest Luxuries are but found 
in the Simplest of Places.
Immense riches of the Earth are found 
in the Most Wretched of Regions.

The Meaning of Everydayness,
Too usual to see through- alas!
The Mystery of Life would unfold,
in Unfathomable depth.

 Home and Homelessness-  Walking back the memory lane!

When the crushing today turns burdensome, I recline-
When the uncertainty of my tomorrow haunts, I reminisce
back into those days of unceremonious past- yeah!
that's where I go, for my short afternoon siesta.

Miles away from the town; friends, chit chats forgone;
 Fragments of home, picked up; Remnants of self, left behind.
When cherished memories perish, the past-me withers away.
Singing the songs of the dying soul is the living me!

away from home, the longer I kept -the irony of our times!
away from self, the longer I moved; the irony of our lives!
As time moves on, relationships slip away; and
before strange gets familiar, the familiar turns strange!

Thinking of home; that everydayness of my childhood;
Ordinary, yet profound; Silly, yet unforgetful!
into that tenderness of the amateur soul, I ride back
to fetch the phantoms of that juvenile heart.

Forgotten old times and forgone loved ones;
Week end phone calls and weakened ties;
Amidst exhaustive past and the extravagant future,
Deep within, I wonder, what is left of me?

A Product of the Middle-class aspiration;
caught in the illusion of career progression is I
homeless in the foreign land called modern times,
orphaned by circumstances, I feel, I'm my own refugee!

Archived memories don't make home; love and affection do!
Internet and Instagram don't make home; intimacy does.
Bank balances don't make home, brothers and sisters do!
Money and wealth don't make home, warmth of a mother does!

Come, let's go back home! our folks are waiting;
for, to return home is to reintegrate our broken self.
awkwardness of anonymity, all over; let's flee the gadget sanctuary!
for, to come back home is to give a break to our senile spirits.

Saravanan

Diwali- a destitute of vision

A few haiku penned during the occasion of the festival of lights :)

Haiku #1             Through the dent in the poor man's hut,

                         enters the Diwali moon-

                         the diya of the destitute.

Haiku #2             Towards darkness!

                         Development without the poor.

                         Diwali without the diyas!

Haiku #3             How so sad!

                         The poor man's house-

                         diyas everynight; darkness or light?

Haiku #4             How beautiful should darkness be

                         the presence of light is felt!

                         Happy Diwali!

Haiku #5             Ignorance isn't bliss!

                         Celebrate no lights when not in use!

                         Save power; switch off the lights!

Haiku #6             They torched people.

                         asked me to celebrate light

                          I embraced the diya of darkness!

                                                                                                      Saravanan

Beauty left behind!

Beauty is the rose in the garden, they say; how immature!

Don’t they understand? Without thorns, roses are incomplete.

Like the moon in the murky sky, they admire: I pity them.

In the dark canopy,the Moon is mesmerizing while the sky is sacrificing.

Wow, The Painting on the canvas? How so spectacular! Err, wait though,

That dazzling piece of work, still fictional on the canvas of reality!

What a great lack of sense and taste!  that they assume,

Notes carry the allure of Music; as if words bear the poet’s message!

For once, have they lent their ears to the lullaby of silence?

To the untold stories of the heart! How I wish Mankind listens!

In all your delicious dinners, did you know? The garlic you rejected had a role.

The flavor it rendered favored your taste buds? - Be assured!

Beauty is not in the fragments rather an experience,holistic; hence behold!

Go for a morning walk; relish in the warmth of the sunshine as much-

As you rejoice in the gentle breeze that passes by- Forget not!

To catch a view at the petals as you stretch a smile at the flowers.

Beauty is not scattered here and there; yet so spread, all over!

Available only to those who make themselves available – Remember!

The not-so-fairy tale of the thorns? The forgotten story of the canvas sky?

Discern from deep within: a goldmine of beauty,awaiting!

Saravanan

The Bonfire of Love!

On a winter season when gentle breeze softened our senses,

My girlfriend and I went out for a walk; It’s kind of,

                  When you can’t go on a long ride, take her for a lazy stroll! :)

                   After all, isn’t that one of your promises when you’re in love?

                   Like, ‘I will be with you all walks of your life!’ :P

Striding a few steps with silenced lips,

She took my hand and treaded close.

            It is one of those times when you feel,

         God isn’t that stingy. Just frugal, after all! :P

         That he fills your life with tiny pleasures to preserve.

‘So what do you do these days?’ She enquired.

‘I write poems’ I responded.

        ‘Does it pay you well?’ she wanted to know.

         It is one of those questions that make you feel low.

                        ‘Yes, it pays me well’  I answered  ‘with joy and contentment!’

‘What a frosty evening it is!’ she exclaimed.

I know she is hinting at my Jacket; I extended. :P

                   While her pretty smile is only a provocation away, I tempted:

                  ‘Wouldn’t the moon look cuter when it smiles?’ She giggled. :)
      It is one of those moments when her happiness becomes your life’s mission.

As her sterling ear rings oscillated,

I tucked her hair on the edges of her ears.

                    It is one of those points in time when you feel,

                    your heart is as frozen as the frosty evening is,

                    That it rejoices in the warmth of the bonfire called love.

                                                                                                                                                                                  Saravanan.