வல்லமை

Category: English

  • One Quiet Night

     

    AJITHSUBRAMANIAN

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    I sit outside and stare into the sky,

    Oblivious to the time racing by.

    The innumerous bright stars,

    and a million deep scars.

    I sit outside and feel the gentle breeze,

    Solace of loneliness and the uncomfortable eaze.

    The infinite vastness of jet black space,

    The heart healing at its own pace.

    The real world, and the fantastic fantasy,

    The absolute truth, and that which makes me free!

    Stretched apart between them, I am.

    A million minutes, the soul has swam.

    I laugh today, I would cry another

    The endless cycle Ive got used to, brother!

    The tears of joy, and the weeps in pain,

    I found today are one and the same!

    A sudden chill and the drizzling starts,

    Reminds me of those broken hearts.

    Out of nowhere, the heavy feeling,

    The silent smile, and kept concealing

    A bit of light here and there,

    The sound of thunder heard everywhere.

    I sit outside and stare into the sky,

    Gearing up again, to give another try.

    AJITH

     

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  • JAMES CHADWICK-THE NEUTRON MAN

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    James Chadwick, desciple of Rutherford, was the great Neuclear scientist who discovered the sub atomic particle- neutron which answered the puzzle of the gap between atomic number & atomic weight of a substance.

    Once again with respect n regards to Dr.Seha.Srinivasan, I dedicate this drawing of JAMES CHADWICK to him for his excellent write up on the great scientist n his contribution to Atomic Physics.

    Su.Ravi
    For paarkka,rasikka…

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  • An Empty Canvas

    Ajith
    61EBC28B-1F13-40E4-8986-8B31E5766009

    An Empty Canvas
    Life is like a painting,
    With lots of colors and hues.
    The bits and pieces that float aloof,
    The brush of time to stitch things loose.

    Like the strokes from the painters brush,
    Nothing makes much sense now
    But when we step back and look at the finished painting,
    We cant stop wondering how.

    The shades of colors, the variety of moods
    The sad days and the pastel greys and blues,
    Each stroke from the painters brush,
    Reminds me that life is what I choose.

    An empty mind and an empty canvas,
    are one in the way I see
    Like the painters brush doing the magic,
    I will color my life the way I want it to be!

    He starts musing every now and then,
    to check the painting against his painted mind.
    He chuckles looking at the painting, unfinished
    For only he knows the beauty that’s hidden behind.

    —
    Ajith

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  • Chithi

    Bhuvaneshwar

    I was a little girl those days. We lived in a village near Nagarkovil, in the extreme south of Tamil Nadu. My father worked as a supervisor in the rice mill in Nagarkovil. He was a good man, but a rather strict father with stern features. I do not remember having seen him laugh or joke in the home, as far as I can remember. The slightest infraction in discipline invited application of the dreaded cane. He was a figure of authority, more respected and feared than loved.

    Mother stayed at home and took care of us. She was a house wife. She was a sweet woman and my favourite at that age. She would make my favourite coconut burfi during festivals and my birthday. Father’s income must have been meagre, for we hardly ever visited the thatched theatre to watch movies. Father must have been an austere man; he would use the same set of clothes and sandals till they were no longer fit to be used. Same rule applied to mother.

    She had a day full of domestic labour and I am sure she slept light, as I remember whenever I woke up in the night for water or to visit the bathroom, she would be up too. I always slept in her arms, and she would pat me to sleep. I knew no fears while she was around. I hardly ever remember her beating me, I doubt if she ever did.

    I went to the local government school. Leela was my best friend. She was 2 years older than I was and lived in one of the houses in our street. We used to play paandi and pallaankuzhi in the evenings and holidays. I always wished I had the long luscious shiny straight black hair like she did. I had curly hair and it was short. Every morning her mother would spend half an hour to oil her hair and plait it into a braid.

    I and Leela would go to the Isakki Amman temple every day, on our way home, from School. It was no big temple. Just a small shrine under a Banyan tree with an idol of Isakki Amman installed. On Fridays and Tuesdays a Poojaari with a big moustache and pot belly would come and do Poojas and give us lemon fruit as prasadham. We once made lemon juice from the fruits to drink, and got scolded by our parents.

    We had heard that Isakki was a girl like us a long time ago and that her father married another lady after the death of her mother. The second wife of her father – Chithi – was a cruel lady who beat Isakki for everything and did not feed her properly. One day, she saw Isakki giving water to a thirsty cowherd boy and talking to him. She made up a story that there was an affair between them and spread the same in the town. The whole town abused Isakki and the poor Isakki hung herself. From then on, she is believed to haunt the banyan tree and they built a temple for her. She was believed to be a powerful goddess and we all believed she would make us pass in the exams and protect us by preventing maths miss from beating us when we scored low.

    The unending labour at home and the rice-husk-ash from the husk-stove took its toll on my mother’s health. She fell ill and remained ill for 4 months. I do not know what father felt about it, but I could not see any grief in him. But he did not scold mother like before, when she could not do all the chores in time.

    My mother, towards the end of her life, was closer to me than ever. She would talk to me about my future and the dreams she had about me, many nights, as father was in office, doing over-time, to meet mother’s medical expenses. She wanted me to study well, and become a doctor so that I could help people.

    One night, she had severe coughs, and the cough syrup we had had little effect. Father was in office and I was afraid. I asked her if I should run and bring father so that we could go to hospital. She said that was of no use. She asked for some warm water and held me close to her bosom and asked me to study well and take care of my father. She said he was a very good man who loved both of us. She said the God she prayed to will be with me and protect me always, when she is not with me. I asked her if she was going anywhere. She looked into my eyes, kissed me and gave a wry smile… She said she was going to see her mother. She blessed me again and we slept. Her eyes were moist and I remember that expression on her face like today. I slept with my arms around her neck. She sung her favourite lullaby softly and patted me to sleep. I do not know when I dozed off.

    Next morning, she did not respond to my calls – she was no more. I had never seen father shed a tear, till that day. It did not matter to me then, the only person who loved me was carried away and burnt. All I had of my mother were her saree and her ashes in a little copper urn.

    Father’s mother – my grandmother came to live with us, after my mother’s death. A term later, my grandmother told me that I would have a new mother. A chithi. She told me that my father should not be alone, raising a young girl and that I must have a mother.

    Leela was more terrified of the prospect than was I. She chided me “You foolish girl, did you agree to your father’s marriage?” as if my permission was sought.

    I said “What do you think I should do?”…

    She did not answer my question but asked me to be careful – “I don’t know. But be prepared to get more beatings if your chithi comes. We know from movies and stories, how chithies are”.

    And to top it all, when we went to Isakki’s temple, she reminded me of Isakki’s history and how she died. Now I was terrified. Leela had to tell me a way out.

    She said “Atleast pray to Isakki that your chithi should not have Children”. And I prayed like that every day for 2 years.

    So, the wedding happened we had a good feast, and a well-dressed and decorated chithi came home, much against my muffled wishes.

    My initial resentment towards her was twofold – I could not brook anyone taking my mother’s place in the home, and I was also afraid that she will be cruel. It did not help that she did not make my favourite coconut burfis like my mother.

    My father was his usual self. One night when chithi had gone to visit her brother’s new baby, I saw him holding my mother’s photo on his chest when sleeping. I silently cried.

    But as I grew up, things changed. I could see a bit beyond the veil of my prejudices. Chithi was not what I expected. I did not know her age, but she must have been younger than my mother. I inferred that as I grew up, because many strangers we met used to ask if I was her younger sister.

    Chithi never beat me or scolded as I expected. This was a peculiar lady, to me. How could a chithi be good? I even thought if she had some silent evil plan! Three years rolled by. We got along well, but nothing special was there between us.

    One day, I broke the wall-lamp while pouring oil and my grandmother was livid – “You broke the 20 year old lamp! A girl child with such carelessness….” – My chithi intervened and prevented her from beating me.

    When I became a ‘big-girl’ in 9th standard, chithi prepared black ulundhu (urad dal) halwa and also my favourite coconut burfi. I started liking her when she presented a photo of my mother, newly framed, after the function. I thought I could be her friend. We began to be friendlier, gradually. It helped that Leela’s father got a transfer and they moved to Madurai.

    One day, when I was in 10th standard, my father saw me talking to my class mate Ravi, in the street corner. I was asking him to give me his maths notes, as he was very good at maths. Once I came home, Father gave me a tight slap and unleashed a long sermon about how good girls had to behave. Grandmother said if I studied any more, I would run away with a boy surely. Chithi intervened and bore their ire, arguing strongly for me and took my father to task for not trusting his own daughter. And the dust settled. I had started to like her. She taught me Trigonometry. I did not know she was good at Maths and had a BSc in maths!

    I passed 10th with distinction and a 100 in Maths, and I passed 12th with 3 200s – one each in Maths, Physics and Biology. Chithi was happy and proud. My father and chithi wanted me to join BSc maths like Chithi, but I wanted to do medicine. I told chithi what I had never told anyone – I wanted to do medicine because of what my mother had told me on her last day. She won the argument with father, speaking for me, and also made sure father agreed to let me stay in Hostel, in Nagarkovil.

    She was happy every year, as I came out with great marks. And when I had the degree, and thanked her for her support, she asked me to thank my mother for inspiring me.

    For the second time in my life, I had to see someone in my family on their last legs. My grandmother was on her death bed now. While I was about to enter the room as I returned from hospital, I heard grandmother speak, and I waited outside for some strange reason. She lamented to my father “The first one gave a girl and this one is barren. I could not see a grandson before I die”.

    My father could not control his outburst. Despite protests from chithi, he said “Amma, please….. do not be so heartless to call her barren. On the very day I married her, she told me ‘Your daughter is my daughter, I do not want a child myself’, you will not go to a good heaven if you call her a barren lady”……….

    And, the rest is history. We are the best of friends now. I went on to become a gynaecologist. I am married to another doctor, a neurosurgeon from Tuticorin. And my chithi with father visits me once a month. We have a great time together, on the beach and shopping together. Father is retired and gets his pension but I and my husband send money to father. Chithi wanted to do MSc in maths, and I supported her case to father. She finished her MSc in Maths recently and is doing her MPhil.

    Six years have passed by since that day my veil of prejudice and resentment died with my grandmother and my chithi placed in my heart’s pedestal alongside my mother.  I still visit the Isakki temple. I hold my daughter who bears my mother’s name. I pray to Isakki that I get another daughter, so I could name her after my chithi………. Of course, chithi just told me in the temple that she’d rather have a boy named after father! That’s my chithi for you!

    ——

    All characters in this story are fictional.

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  • AS I SPOKE TO DHARMA

    ISAIKKAVI RAMANAN

    (My dear friend and a noble soul, Dharma Raman, interviewed me for a magazine a year or so ago. This morning, it popped up when I was searching my system for something else. Well, you had it! Here it is!!)

    We are a state that revels in bestowing titles to public figures – be it actors, politicians or artistes, most of which sound ridiculously bombastic and glaringly irrelevant. But there are a few exceptions. And Taruvai Ananthramaseshan Venkateswaran, better known as Isaikkavi Ramanan is certainly one of them. The epithet preceding the name could not have been more appropriate for a man who lives and breathes poetry and music.

    What strikes one the most when coming face to face with Isaikkavi Ramanan is his unpretentious humility, genuine warmth and extraordinary wit that are at once endearing and inspiring, giving away the spiritual journey that he has embarked upon in the last couple of decades and more. A prolific writer who has authored about a dozen books, written a staggering amount of poetry in Tamil and composed an equally impressive range of songs, Ramanan ‘s one of a kind poetry show on Podhigai channel called ‘Konjam Kavidhai Konjam Theneer’ where he converses with a variety of guests about the beauty of poetry, is immensely popular with a niche audience. He shares vignettes from his fascinating and eventful journey in this free- wheeling chat.

    Who has been the biggest influence in your creative journey as a poet, writer and composer?

    My father Sri T.V. Anantharamaseshan has been the driving force behind my creative pursuits. An erudite Sanskrit scholar who had mastered the language to the extent of being able to converse very fluently in it, his achievements are nothing short of awe inspiring. An expert in Agamashastram – the science of temple architecture, performed Kumbabishekam for more than 20 temples in India and abroad. He was an astrologer par excellence, known for his photographic memory. He was deeply religious He has composed 27 Suprabathams. His stint as Asst Editor for ‘The Hindu’ is remembered by many for the insightful editorials he wrote for several years. But for all his formidable talents, he was very simple and unassuming. He passed away at the age of 87, leaving behind a legacy.

    When did you start writing poetry?

    I was fascinated by Sri M.V.Raghavan, my tamil teacher in school, who would recite Kamban and Bharathi with passion. We were living in Nanganallur at that time and I had the good fortune of associating with a number of poets and scholars who had a lasting impression on my mind as a teenager. Sri Radhakrishna Sastry who was a Siddha Vaidyar, Astrologer and a remarkable philosopher inspired me with his wisdom and knowledge. At the age of 17, I started writing poetry in both English and Tamil.

    What was your career like?

    After being in a few small jobs and an agonizing period of unemployment, I joined ‘The Hindu’ in 1977 as a Sales Representative and worked tirelessly for 27 years. My job involved a lot of travel which I always liked. That gave me an opportunity to see several historic places and temples and it also gave me the privacy I wanted for my poetry.

    For several years, every day was a long day. Not many know how difficult it is to cover 40 to 50 kms a day in places like Bangalore or Madurai and that too, leaving home very early in the morning and being chased by the street dogs which had an inexplicable hatred against a poor newspaper salesman!! I have worked as a packer, loader, delivery boy even after joining The Hindu. I never had any complaints. I enjoyed work. I relished labour. I learnt a lot mixing with the poor and deprived. After all, I am just an ordinary graduate, somewhat fluent in Tamil and to a small extent in English. Life was hard but I soldiered on with gusto, penning verses, pining for my Parasakthi and singing along the road. Even literally!! Yes, wounds hurt you when they happen but when you pause and caress the scars today, don’t they become sweet? (Patta kaayangaL padumpodhu valithaalum thottup paarthaal thazumbugaL inikkum!!)

    I had a memorable period of stay in Visakhapatnam where I was the Regional Manager. My staff members were not merely men and women; they were blessings from the almighty. The synergy that resulted from this great team helped us in earning an enviable reputation among branches and winning several awards for achieving our targets. My staff members were the incentive for me! Yes, even if I was not well, I always wanted to go and meet them. It is now almost eight years after I quit employment. All of them are still in touch with me, pouring their love and affection as usual.

    It shocked them when I quit and surprised the Management. It took me two full days to convince my bosses. My staff? I could never convince them. They broke down, moved me and were very cross with me for leaving them. I quit like Sunil Gavaskar when my reputation as a Manager was as its peak. I quit at a time when I had 10 years of service in my hand (and nothing else!!) My good lady has always been a home maker and my twin boys were yet to settle down. I quit because I wanted to pursue my personal dreams — literary, cultural and spiritual. The inner call was getting louder by the day and I could not ignore it anymore..

    What prompted you to opt for early retirement and walk the spiritual path?

    Despite a successful career and gratifying creative pursuits, I yearned for spiritual progress and harmony. My quest led me to several disappointing and disastrous encounters which knocked me down very badly. Fortunately, in 1994, at the age of 40, I met my ultimate master, Satguru Sivananda Murty. He is my Master, my Beloved, my Refuge. It is he who guides me to this day. My life is over; my living continues. I was consciously mad, extremely anxious. Now I am at peace. I am enjoying the fatigue of relief. Tremendous love flows through me. I can talk to anyone. I can connect with life….all living beings.

    You are known as much for singing as for your poetic prowess. When did u start singing?

    I am not trained in music, hence I cannot call myself a singer. I don’t have a healthy throat or voice, neither do I have musical knowledge. I don’t know music, yet, I know nothing else except music. Well, that is the listener’s problem!! Music happened to me although learning of music never happened, since my career and hectic travelling did not allow me the luxury of taking lessons. I sing, for myself and those who enjoy the simplicity and truth behind my music.

    You have penned lyrics and composed hundreds of songs over the years. What is the process you go through when you do this?

    I have no technical expertise in composing songs as my knowledge of music, classical or otherwise is almost nil and I don’t carry the burden of conforming to a particular raga or thaalam. Not by choice, I just don’t know anything! My songs are neither classical nor entirely folk….you could call them pastoral. I think it is the music of my soul, because when composing actually happens, I go through a fascinating and unique experience. I have composed all kinds of songs- devotional, romantic, rustic, social, philosophical….whatever the genre of the song, I go through the same mental state. Something seizes me. I develop mild temperature. My stomach churns and I am in the grip of some unseen force. I seem to dwell temporarily in a corridor between consciousness and unconsciousness. Songs happen when I am on the other side of consciousness. It is almost as if I see a video. But I find the final outcome to be pitiably poor, paling in comparison to the exhilarating experience I go through.

    Is it the same for writing poetry as well?

    Yes, the process is the same, although there is a clear distinction between song and poem for me. For, there is music in every word; yet, not all words are musical. No one can guarantee my next word. I don’t know if I can write another word or compose another song. All my poems are spontaneous and from my heart, since I am under no compulsion to write for any specific situation. Of course, I can write a poem if someone asks me to and it could even be good and impressive. But it does not come from the heart.

    How has your experience in hosting the show Konjam Kavidhai Konjam Theneer been?

    Beautiful. A couple of years ago, Ms Andal Priyadarshini, poet, writer and a Producer in Door Darshan had invited me for a Kaviyarangam in her studio, not as a participant but to be part of the audience. After it was over, my friend and a remarkable poet with multifaceted talents Sri Marabin Maindan Muthaiah took me to her room. As the participants were waiting for their cheques and tea was served, he introduced me as a poet to Andal and her husband Sri Balaramani and enquired whether they had heard my sing. Though I had met them before, they were not aware that I was some kind of a poet who could sing somewhat. Yes, I sang a few songs. I could see Andal in tears. She declared that she would launch a programme with me as the mainstay. I explained to her that I was not a singer in the popular sense of the term, I could never sing in tune with the sruti and so on but she would not listen. And I thought that she was simply emotional but she organized things and called me. I fondly recall the first few sessions I had with Muthaiah and that remarkable lady Ms Jayanthasree Balakrishnan, who, to me, is an aspect of my Parasakthi. Though Andal was transferred to Coimbatore, DD persisted with the programme under another producer Mr Basha who is a brilliant poet himself and now under another producer Sri Krishnakumar.

    It provides me an opportunity to rub shoulders with many eminent poets and literary connoisseurs besides budding talents.

    Well, wherever I am, suddenly, someone comes to me and congratulates me about the show. I owe it to DD. I should mention Dr. Padma Subrahmanyam also here. She called me to anchor a mega show on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of Rajarajeswaram where more than 1000 dancers performed in the premises of the Big Temple, Thanjavur. Though my announcements were to be confined to six minutes, thanks to some communication gap, I had to speak extempore for several minutes. The programme was telecast live across the globe.

    I acted in a movie titled “Konjam Kaadhal Konjam Kavidhai” (adhuvum konjamthaan!) which is yet to be released. I am also acting in Sri K. Balachandar’s serial “Amudha Oor Achyarkuri” which is being telecast by Kalaignar TV. I have also been giving talks in Tamil and English on different topics in Tamilnadu and other states.

    What is the task ahead of you? How do you see yourself accomplishing it?

    As you would have understood by now, my post retirement life has been quite busy or rather active. I feel it is our dharma to express our best. My Master told me, “The best way to treat the gift of God is to return it to Him!” That is what I have been doing, expressing my best, sharing my joy through poetry, music, talks and photography. Alongside, my yathras continue. I must mention that I have been fortunate to visit different parts of the Himalayas about 29 times now. I have spent quite a few days in solitude.

    I am in deep love with this great country. I know its great distant past, its dismal present and its uncertain future. I do my bit in creating an awakening in the minds of the listeners about this.

    I am not special in any way. But I have been very fortunate in every way.

    I am at His feet, by His grace. Let Him do the rest as well!

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  • Human Life

    -Raa. Parthasarathy

    Happiness and Sorrow as waves on the Sea                      yacht-in-rough-sea
    We all Sailing on the above,
    It is stumbling as Yacht on the Sea,
    Good and bad never we foresee.

    Time and Tide never wait and See,
    Ups and downs in our Life of Sea,
    In the World of Instability, we expect Stability,
    We sail on the boat of faith, with Reliability.

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  • The light of Arunachala english poem

    விசாலம்annamaimages
    There the sun with valor and brightness,
    Experienced the death at the age of seventeen .
    Overcame the death and the victory was seen ,
    Researching what is “I”and asking “who am i”?
    got enlightened ascending very high ,
    Discarding the studies deeply gone into meditation ,,
    Thou were in the cave  for further realization ,
    Threw away all  had  only the cloth of loin .
    with only thought of athma and paramathma to join
    The bliss from Arunachala kept on blowing .
    “Atman reveals itself” the theme started flowing ‘
    The name Venkatraman became ” Maharishi  Ramana”
    Thou are the embodiment  of suguna ,
    The lord Arunachala’s call made the body fall ,
    On the auspicious Good friday it was the jyothi”s call,
    Arose the magnificent  light flashed and moved up
    Mingling with Arunachala towards the North up.
    Aham Bramhasmi  was shining up to the brim .
    In his teaching and principles  let us all swim .
    Asato ma satgamaya
    Tamaso ma jyothir gamaya
    Mrithyorma amritham gamaya ,
    OM SANTHI SHANTHI SHANTHI :
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  • Feather, Oh Feathers!!

     

    Pavala Sankari

    s 1476587
    Feathers, cute little peacock feathers
    Bright and beautiful with multicolours
    Brushing smoothly with rosy petals
    Transcends through the flowery heart
    Brings the cool breeze to float within
    Carrys angel’s blessings to have light heart!

    Rolling pearls on the cheeks
    I know not what they mean
    Rise in the heart, and roll from the eyes,
    In looking on the fresh rosy fields,
    And recalling of the past days,
    By playing with the teddy toys!!

    Cool as the blossom of jasmine
    That brings the scented breeze
    That sinks with all my lovely days
    So sad, so smart , so sweet so cute
    The days that are no more
    Oh sad, and strange as in sunken childhood

    Nosegays! oh make me wake up
    Heaven – flowers glitters as golden
    Twinkling stars of floating eyes
    Circling around the holy childhood
    Softly, oh softly ringing melody bells
    Angel’s rhythm pings the peace at ease!!

     

    Image Courtesy

    http://hdw.eweb4.com/out/754921.html

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  • Friendship Forever!

     

     Pavala Sankari

     
    Words could never tell you494px-WoodlandKingfisher
    How fruitful friendship always be,
    Just little words that come out
    That are heavenly meant
    That makes the heart smile
    That makes the life worthwhile!

     

    Brushing up the tears as well as
    Picking up from the pool of confusion
    Sinking in sadness avoided by consoling
    Mending up the broken heart with feather
    Blowing out the heartbreak away and
    Turning out the world upside and around!!

     

    Even though the past is past untold
    Future will be fantastic humanity
    Even though not able to keep the
    Feet from stumbling could get a hand to
    Grasp and save from not to fall deep
    When in need of care warm hands spread

     

    Decision making may depends
    Encouraging ever supports
    Boundaries never be determined
    Could give the room to grow by himself!
    And accept him as he is himself!
    Could pick up the pieces to put back in their own!
    Glad and sad times all passes through easily!

     
    Friend is like a halcyon with the power to calm winds of the sea
    Friend is like an owl who is wise and beautiful
    Friend is like a flower who is soft and silky
    Friend is like an angel of love who is in disguise
    Friend is like a heart which bears everything
    Friend is like a heaven where you can rest peacefully!!!

     

    Image Courtesy : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halcyon_(genus)

     

     

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  • YOU MADE IT!!!

    Pavala Sankari

     

    Becareful with my heartheart
    as it pains much due
    wired with confusions
    win-now from partition thorns

     

    Neednot be worried
    Of yours being in a pool
    Full of lilly blossoms
    Embosomed with Cool breeze

     

    Blushing bluebell glancing down
    sizzling cute butterflies
    buzzing bees on the lily
    drizzling droplets of honey

     

    knowing not to harm his
    eternal peace of silence
    splayed his hypnotic wing
    Of multicolours to make it sing.

     

    final fling of warmth of sun
    reddened bright as the dawn
    warming hum of nightingale
    saved the soul of friendship!!

     

    as the geese fly across the sea
    as you never come downtoearth
    as you don’t have wings or limbs
    as you are my dream ever!!!!

     

     

    Thanks for the image:

    http://data2.whicdn.com/images/88991863/large.jpg

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  • URL for videos in Youtube – Isaikkavi Ramanan

     

    Dear Friends!

    Vanakkam!

    As you know, Swathi Solutions have taken up the task of bringing out my works in the form of audio CDs, ebooks and apps. Now, they have started uploading my videos in Youtube. Here is the URL:

    http://www.youtube.com/IsaikkaviRamanan

    isakkaviramanan/wp-login

    I would request you all to subscribe to it. It is of course free!

    Here is the list of my ebooks:

    1. Agathiyar Andhaadhi (100 Venbas)
    2. Nathiyil Vizundha Malar (Poems)
    3. Ellorkkum Thanthai Iraivan (Article on Siva)
    4. Imayam:Andharangathin Bhagirangam (Essay on my pilgrimage)
    5. Drop from the Gita (English – Two part essay on Bhagawat Gita)
    6. ManonmaNi Maalai (100 Venbas)
    7.Thirumanam Enbadhu (Write up on the institution of marriage, meaning of mantras)
    8. A Sublime Sacrament (English – Write up on the institution of marriage, meaning of mantras

    You may visit www.kalakendra.com to get these books.

    Here is the list of my CDs:

    1. Aathi Choodi
    2. Way of the Vedas – வேத நெறி
    3. Durga Saptha Sloki

    These three are presented as conversational explanations in English and Tamil. My good friend Dharma Raman has rendered the English portions. Nritya Jagannathan has chanted the Vedic mantras and Durga Saptha Sloki.

    4. Nathiyil Vizundha Malar
    My Tamil poems and some of my songs in my voice. Dharma Raman has provided appropriate explanatory preludes beautifully.

    5. Manonmani Maalai
    My 100 verses (Venbas) in my voice. Dharma Raman comes in whenever necessary to explain the nuances.

    This is a new experiment. Its success depends on your support!
    My explanatory notes in English and Tamil on Avvaiyar’s Aathi Choodi is now available as Mobile App also (apart from audio CD) thanks to Swathi Soft Solutions, Chennai.

    Please click kalakendra.com/aathichoodi to access it.

    It is your support which would encourage them to bring out more of my works.

     

    Love,

    Ramanan

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  • DESTINATION

     

     

    Pavala Sankari

    DESTINATION

    Flower-Wallpaper-HD

    why do I adore you?
    Because–
    Endless travel of mind
    To be reached – the destination
    It can never wander hopelessly.

    Because –
    Almighty knows – my
    urgent requirement – worth
    To be settled over – in the
    Wisdom of Destiny!

    Nature never asks – why
    everyone loves Her
    Because
    She knows – the reason
    of her creation – ECSTASY

    Why do I love you?
    Because–
    The bud does not require the Sun
    To answer – why and when she blossoms
    She can never stay as bud for long!

    I believe this sun rises for me
    Only for me – Therefore
    Then – I love Thee
    My Sun rise!

    Pavala

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  • Agnisaakshi!

    Agnisaakshi

    He had kept his appointment to meet me at the beach…. My friend Srinivasarangan was a punctual man…..

    It was two years since I had seen him. He was thinner and visibly paler, certainly not the ebullient man in his bell bottoms he was when we were together at the Presidency, and surely a far cry from the rosy cheeked young chubby lad he was during his school days. It was neither day nor night. The sun had gone down and stars had come out and darkness was swathing in a stride much like the grief of his heart. I wasn’t sure how to start.

    “Ranga, I want to talk to you about something”

    “Sure, go ahead”

    “Will you mind if it’s personal, Ranga?” – I was unusually held-back with my best friend in being out-spoken.

    “You can say anything, you’re my best friend.”…. “And now, what more do I have to hide as personal?” – he added with a look towards the blue lined horizon beyond the sea.

    “We’ll talk sitting on this beach…..” he said. We walked a few yards to a spot at the foot of a tree. We sank down on the soft sand of the beach. The same beach that saw us run in fun and frolic, hand in hand as children – little boys who knew nothing about life’s travails; The same beach that saw us play beach cricket with tennis balls as college kids;

    His now dried sea of sorrow reflecting in his voice cut through my heart.

    “Ranga, you must marry again.”- I said, in my own blunt way, and paused.

    There was his usual silence, and after a calm survey, he smiled. “And why must I?” asked he.

    I had my answers ready – “You are still young, and you are not a father yet – why would you want to waste your life in Padma’s memory? I respect your love for her, but you had only been married for 2 years”.

    He smiled. “Did Amma ask you to talk to me?” –  He knew. The old lady had tried to get her son out of Padma’s memory for two years but received no response from him who slowly became a sober introvert, who’d not entertain any topic of him marrying again. Out of desperation she had called me and asked if I could talk to her son, in my capacity as his best friend.

    “Well….” I started to speak, but his hand on my hand stopped me in my tracks. “I know you and I know her…..I am sure she would have”.

    “…..…….” – There was silence in the air.

    By now, the moon had come out….. It was a Poornima….. I thought for a second that the moon was more like a white swan that came swimming out of the black ocean, above our heads….. I wondered what was going on in Rangan’s mind…… His gaze was fixed on the moon…….

    “Do you see that moon?” – he asked…..

    “Ya… beautiful, isn’t it?” – I replied.

    “It is…… It’s good you brought the topic up. I had to open my heart to someone, my friend. And none better than you…….” – he paused;

    “Hmmm…..”

    “Do you know, this moon has borne witness to my times with Padma here, on this very spot below this tree? This spot to me, is sacrosanct…… Every Poornima…. I and Padma would come here… to this very beach… this very spot…. We used to pack our dinner and come here”……..

    “Hmmm….” – I did not want to interrupt him…… After a pause he continued……

    “On our first day here, I wrote a shlokham for her, comparing her lovely turmeric tinged face with the rising yellowy poorna-chandhran. I don’t mind repeating to you”…. He recited the verse.

    “You are quite a poet, aren’t you?” – I tried to infuse some cheer. He gave a wry smile and nodded it off… “What’s the point?”…..

    “She was the best person in my life, you know? She took care of every single detail for me. She knew I liked my potatoes fried to crispness, with some extra chilly in it, and that’s the way it was done. She knew I was allergic to pea-nuts, and it was banished from the limits of the household. My wake up alarm in the morning, for those 2 years were her keerthanams and varnams, one raaga for each day, and my lullabies were her neelaambary and yadhukulakambodhi …. Despite my protests, she washed my clothes by hand. Do you know? I have bought a fresh set of clothes to be used after she left this world. I have preserved every cloth she washed with her hand. I did not want to dirty them…. They bear her finger prints and I don’t want her finger prints to be washed off…. her unwashed saree wraps my pillow now….. and her scent wraps my heart“

    Another pause…… I could see in the moonlight, his eyes were moist….. his gaze was fixed on the moon…… he went on…..

    “Her lap was my pillow… her eyes were my mirror….. she loved me….. ever since the day she stepped into my home….. what had I done for her to deserve such unconditional love? She kept awake till I came home, and shared her food with me… I came home early to make sure she ate in time….. at times, she fed me… and I used to playfully suck on her fingers as she fed me… Though we could never conceive, I could see a mother’s love in her eyes… That was enough for us….. we were each-others’ child…..”

    He was now breathing faster….. his voice betrayed a silent sob……

    “She loved me….. I loved her….. unconditionally. She cared for my happiness unconditionally….. do you know what she said when kissing me good night, the night before we got her admitted?”

    “…….”

    “She said if she died, she’d be with me in spirit. She said in her next birth, she would want to be my wife. I said in our next birth I want to be her wife, and she must be my husband…. I could repay her kindness in some way….. And she asked me to remarry if she died. I broke down and refused…… She knew I would say no…. she knew my love for her”

    Rangan was now in tears….. I could do nothing about it…. I was trying not to cry myself.

    “You say it’s JUST 2 years…… I remember every single day of those 2 years. Every single minute…. She lives, my friend…. She lives now in me….. Do you think loyalty is just physical? When we tied the knot we circum-ambulated the fire 7 times….. I promised her that I’d be faithful to her in thought, word and deed. And faith to me, is not just physical. Her physical frame is no more, but her soul lives in my heart. And till God lets me meet her in the other world, I shall wait. That’s my respect for my sweetheart….. I am waiting to be united with her, again…… because, this bond is eternal…..  It was sealed with fire as witness…. Agnisaakshi……. No other woman shall ever have me…..”

    I could not help my tears….. Ironically, he had to cheer me up…..!

    “It’s time…. Let’s go home… Amma will be waiting. You must have dinner at my home today….”

    We got up and started……..

    I did not know what I’d tell his mother…..

    I just wished, Padma heard his words…. Or perhaps, she lived in his heart and knew…….. Perhaps, she heard….. perhaps she rose  with the moon every poornima, and came eagerly to see her husband sitting under the very same tree to that sacrosanct spot……. She’d know he’d come there… It was agnisaakshi……..

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  • Siva and Parvati

    Siva and Parvati
    Watercolor 14″H x 21″W
    By R.S.Mani

    sculpture-Siva Parvathi - watercolor

    This watercolor painting is based on a photograph I took when I visited Belur and Halebid.
    The painting appears to be monochromatic. Yet there are some other subtle colors.
    The technique:
    I used Masking Fluid extensively.

    I had four bottles containing the Masking Fluid.

    The first bottle contained full strength of the Masking Fluid.
    The second bottle contained 75% of the Masking Fluid mixed with 25% of water.
    The third bottle contained 50% of the Masking Fluid mixed with 50% of water.
    The fourth bottle contained 25% of the Masking Fluid mixed with 75% of water.
    After sketching the picture carefully, I applied the full strength Masking Fluid in places I wanted the paper to remain white. Then applied light colors on the entire surface of the paper.
    Now I chose the areas where I wanted light grey areas of the paper and applied the mixture from the second bottle containing 75% of the Masking Fluid. Then I applied medium value colors.
    Now choosing the areas where I wanted medium grey areas to remain on paper, I applied the mixture from the third bottle containing 50% of the Masking Fluid. . Then I applied darker colors.
    Now choosing the areas where I wanted dark grey areas to remain on paper, I applied the mixture from the third bottle containing 25% of the Masking Fluid. . Then I applied very dark colors.
    Now the entire surface of the paper looked almost black. Using an eraser, I rubbed the entire surface. The picture with varying values of colors emerged as shown!
    The process is time consuming. But it is worth the trouble considering the result.

    anbudan,
    R.S.Mani
    (Cambridge, Ontario, Canada)

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  • Georgian Bay, Ontario, Canada

    R.S. Mani

    Watercolor 10.5″H x 14″W

    Georgian Bay - watercolor

    Georgian Bay is a large bay of Lake Huron, located entirely within Ontario, Canada.

    Years ago, I spent my vacation in the Bay area. The watercolor painting shown here was done at site.

    For those interested in learning watercolor painting, I would like to tell about “The Masking Fluid”.

    When you want to leave the paper white in places (instead of using white paint), draw the shapes with the masking fluid on the paper and paint on top of it. Later, using an eraser, you can remove the dried up fluid and expose the paper as the white shape. In this painting, I created the shapes of the white seagulls in the sky by this technique.

    The reason for introducing the topic of the Masking Fluid here is this:

    I started experimenting with it and took its usage to extreme. The result was unique textures which cannot be achieved by any other method. I shall post a sample of that kind of work next week in Vallamai.

    anbudan,
    R.S.Mani
    (Cambridge, Ontario, Canada)

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