Ode to the Vicar of Whitefield

Shaking hands and building bonds.

Preaching sermons deep and short.

Smiling broad and laughing mild.

Visiting homes and spreading cheer.

Meeting the kids with child-like glee.

Luring the youth with jokes and truths.

Enchanting the old with a listening ear.

Encouraging the adults with words of hope.

Teaching the Bible with authority-while.

Learning the Bible in humility.- He is

A young priest with firm principles.

A good friend and a warm human being.

Morning Walk

The quiet and narrow road, with houses on either side,

Huge stony walls with crawling creepers on every side,

Glimpses of the beautiful flowers that they do hide,

Towering trees and tales they seem to want to tell,

Unkempt gardens and within them an unused well,

Chirping birds that make your heart with emotions swell,

The absence of people, the absence of noise,

The absence of traffic, the absence of chaos,

The feeling of calm, the feeling of bliss,

The fitting rewards for strolling awhile- in circles,

Around, the Whitefield outer and inner circles.

Unforgettable poems from my days in school

If music is the language of emotions, poems are but music in words. In my opinion they are superior than songs, for they give you the liberty to read them to your own tune. Poems can stir intense emotions not just on the first-read but on every-read. Fourteen years of schooling exposes one to poems of a variety of genre. The first I remember reading was "Boats Sail On The Rivers by Christina Georgina Rossetti". Elementary school English textbooks had many of her poems. As a child I marvelled at the simple subjects she chose and the profound philosophy she infered. 'Everything in nature is prettier far than anything that man has made',she said in her 'Boats sail on the river'. 'The clouds keep moving but where do they go?" she asked in 'Clouds'.
Come primary school and the subjects of the poems were a little deeper. Who could forget the truth in the words 'King will be well, if he sleeps one night. In the Shirt of a Happy Man', from John Hay's 'Enchanted Shirt' or the mystery in the words' who has seen the wind niether you nor I', from Rossetti's 'Wind' or the triumph of justice in Goldsmith's 'Elegy on the death of a Mad Dog'.
Middle school brought in the form of poetry a mixture of humour, romance and nature. I rolled in laughter for 'Simon Snoots Whiskers' and A.P.Herbert's 'At the Theatre: to the Lady behind me'. I  blushed reading Lord Byron's 'She walks in beauty' and Noyes'  'The Highway man'. I sang with Wordsworth's 'Solitary reaper' and shuddered reading Walter de lamare's "The listeners'. I sailed the seven seas as I read Masefields "sea-Fever' and "Cargoes'.
Highschool was simply breath-taking, beginning with Milton's 'On his blindess' I drenched myself in the wonders of  'The Village School master', 'Night and Death','Tiger', "Death the Leveller', 'Stopping by the woods on a snowny evening', 'The Daffodils', 'Menelaus and Helen', 'Milk for the cat', 'La belle dame sans merci', 'Soldier' and the ironical 'Ozymandias'.


I was always poor at memorising poems, but some lines stay etched in my mind for the truths they speak, the valour they express and the music they play.

1. "But the bow that bridges heaven,
   And overtops the trees,
   And builds a road from earth to sky,
   Is prettier far than these."
2. "The glories of our blood and state are shawdows not substantial things"
3. "only the deeds of the just smell sweet and blosoom in their dust"
4. "If I should die think only this of me, That there's some corner of a foreign field
   That is forever England"
5. "And that one talent which is death to hide"
6. "For oft when on my couch I lay in vacant or in pensive mood, they flash upon my inward eye, which is the bliss of solitude and then my heart with pleasure fills and dances with the daffodils"
7. "Behold her single in the field yon solitary highland lass, reaping and singing to herself"
8. "Tiger tiger burning bright in the forest of the night'
9. "Men may come and men may go but I go on forever"
10. "Still they gazed and still the wonder grew, how one small head could carry all he knew"
11. "The soldier's pride
    Touched to quick, he said:
    "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,
    Smiling the boy fell dead."
12. "And this is why I sojourn here
    Alone and palely loitering,
    Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
    And no birds sing."

Poetry is such soothing salve to the wounds inflicted by the cacophony of the FM radios, silly SMSs, formidable forwarded emails, jarring caller-tunes and raucous ring -tones.

Pleasures that come with a power cut

I am making chapathis in the candle light, my nose is dewed with sweat and I am feeling very very hot. Just as I am thinking of fretting about power cuts in summer, I hear my son and my husband chit-chatting in the front yard of my house. "The moon is big and the stars are so small" my son was saying. "Actually the stars are much much bigger than moon, they are so far away that they look small" my husband was trying to explain. My mind flew back 15 years and I began recollecting power cuts during my childhood. Just when the power went off, by dad would start whistling " I saw rain drops on my window....". His whistling was good always, but the power cut made it more comforting and solemn. My mother would find her way in the dark to the room my dad was in and say "These power cuts in summer- annoying really". "Its cooler in this room" my dad would say. The luring of the silence that followed nwas magnetic. My sister and I would stumble in the dark and go to mum and dad. Together we would look at the sky always my sister would be the first to exclaim "hey hannah look how beautiful that cloud looks!" "yeah and it floats so nicely" I would say". "This is how our childhood was" my dad would say," no electric lights at home , just the kerosene lamps".  "We had to be back home from play when the street lights came on" my mother continued "we used to play so much in those days" she said.
When starring at the sky got boring we played a word game. one of us would say a word and the next has to say a word that started with the last letter of the word just said.  "English" I said "herb" my sister said "bedlam" my father would say "what on earth is that?" I would ask and my dad would tell us the meaning and the usage." "When the power comes back, you should look it up in the 'chambers'" my dad would tell us always. The number of new words I learnt during the many powercuts are numerous. 'Quay', 'etymology', 'mayhem', 'apothecary' to list a few.The way we bonded as a family during the power cuts almost made them welcome in our house.
Now my son is saying "Appa that cloud is moving" "why?". "They are light and can be moved by the wind my boy" my husband is explaining. I wipe sweat off my face, switch of the stove and sneak out to sit next to my husband and son and stare at the sky.  "Amma" my son starts "the clouds can be moved around by the wind do you know, appa just told me about it" he goes on. What sweet music it is to my ears.
Power cuts are a powerful and sure way to family time.

Friends and parting from them.

Few I am sure are as fortunate as I am when it comes to friends. From kindergarden to my present company, I have met with quite a number of men and women of character. What is friendship? It is all about taking a person as she/he is. When the rest of the world spends time listing your faults and speaking about them, a freind takes time to point out your faults unoffendingly and then takes pride in you when your faults are corrected. The smile of a friend heals many unworded wounds.
My list of such heart warming friends is long. Each of them is different, them that can talk endlessly and them that utter but a few words, them that laugh excessively and them that merely smile in the place of a laugh. Them that read voraciously and them that turn to a book for sleep, them that love to travel and them that dread leaving their hometown, them that are old and them that are children. From each of these friends I learn to look at life in newer ways. From the inland letter to the email and the mobile phone I use all means available to maintain friendships I have develped over the years.
Nevetheless,parting from these friends has always been difficult. When the time to part comes I remember all the good times I spent with them. Some long walks, some silent momemts in the cafeteria, stadium or auditorium, some bouts of laughter, some hearty meal in a restaurant, some memorable learinings on the job, some long debates and discussions in the desk. Tears always fail me by never falling down. Just recollection and remorse and a heaviness in the heart. The freindship remains always but also always ends in a way.
What do I want most? To stay with old friends or to discover new ones? I do not know. The only way I can connect with friends made thus far and go on to make new ones is by parting. A sad moment and yet one of hope. Hope that the freindship I part from physically will last and the hope that new friends I will find wherever I go next. How am I sure that I will find new friends?... well, if it happened to you several times in the past you would be as sure as I am.

Oh for the gift of creative writing in Tamil

"Take all my grand slams just give me wimbledon"  Ivan Lendl once said. "Take all my oratorical skills away give me the gift of creative writing in Tamil" I would cry out in his lines. What sadness it is to be able to think only in Tamil and write only in English. If only writing in Tamil was as easy as speaking in Tamil, I would have written on reems of paper. What does the trick? I am trying to figure out, reading a lot helps you write better yourself people say. So... yes I don't read creative works in Tamil. Most of my Tamil reading is confined to the Bible and the Thirukural. I love and relish the depth of Tamil is just those two books. Just the number of synonyms in Tamil and the etymology of every-day words in Tamil is mind blowing. The variety of words that come to your rescue when you want to express fragile emotions is astounding.
As I speak broken Kannada everyday, my brain constantly finds out Tamil roots for Kannada words and I marvel at the beauty of the language and how what may have been just a dialect many centuries ago has now become a new language. I see words that have scanty use by Tamils today find their real value in Kannada. Two small words 'ஓது ' and 'சொல்ப்பா  ie 'சொற்பம்', beautiful words that mean 'study' and 'a little' both in Kannada and Tamil, but words that Tamils world over have replaced with  the mundane படி'  and 'கொஞ்சம் '. Yet all this research and the exictement that comes with it has not helped me write in Tamil.Someday soon I need to read a lot of writings in Tamil, and let the language flow out of my mind in chaste form. Then I will pen in Tamil. What a wonderful day that would be for me!
 Lendl's wish never came true, what will become of mine is really in my hands (pun intended).

When I consider humanity ...... I find that:

Several have sought to understand the purpose of life.

Most believe, that living comfortably is the purpose of life

Most hold that achieving fame is the purpose of life.

Most understand that power over others is the purpose of life.

Many assume that acquiring knowledge is the purpose of life.

Many try to tell their fellowmen the purpose of life.

Many decide to set for themselves a purpose of life.

Some go on as if existing is the purpose of life.

Some think that wisdom is the purpose of life.

Some pursue enlightenment as the purpose of life.

Very few see that having been born,

Making the world a better place is the purpose of life.

Very few see that having been born,

Loving their neighbour as themselves is the purpose of life.

Very few see that having been born,

Loving the Lord with all their heart is the purpose of life.

A chosen few see that having been born,

Living eternally with God, after dying is the purpose of life.