They are jewellery to God and goddesses, women adore them and men like to smell them. Seldom will you see such fragrance together in a sea of colours. Festive platter.
the city of indian sunshine, the glory of south indian peninsula,
quite always the doyen of heat and coffee, temples and bay of divine cuisine.
ambushed by nature, swallowed by waters, mangled with chaos.
chennai, the city of belligerent mother. today.
raven by marauding clouds, broken hearts and thousand more.
galloping horse sedated by the titanic verse, vetted by chapters unlike past.
when monsoon never arrives, oh boy! sure it did this time.
whose vengeance? ask mother gods to their bosses of imperious poise,
holy cow, cows and sheep afloat amidst human jab of path breaking menace.
survival, ah, the call of the hour and wait for thousands.
desperate measures and teething myriads of city living under shades of mercurial salt,
forged missions and buckets of help from a nation that comes together to live.
unrivalled, un-hatched, un-helmed – still pouring as I invite solace to calm madness.
not victim or witness, a son who is just elated to find his own in the lap of safety,
while weeps for the ones who have none to lend a thought about.
at a time of clad moments when time and machine have given away to human arms,
when money and technology were swept away through to shelter and survival.
yes, the days when sanity took over. for a change, we wept. we must.
lets forget the intolerance gig, time to embrace the inevitable quit and slit the git,
lets do it once, for us and only for us. not for the humdingers of political cats.
yes, yes, we are doing it. truly, we are at it. all ruins yes, hope is the victor and disparage collides.
chennai – yes, you are rising and am at the top, with you, surging away.