Travelling Times

Devoid of flesh, skin and bones, Constituted wholly of imagination and creativity, The words that flow from a pen, Form mythical figures on a plain sheet. Whatever the theme rises, The poet impeccably furnishes, With his wide, vast permeability. He absorbs what he seeks, The student in him playfully reasons, While the scholar in him dictates, The unfound, unexpressed truths, Of nature, Lord and human civilizations. The picturesque scene before him, Canvassed by his own paraphernalia, The buoyancy in his words portray, A zeal embedded on his grotesque nature, But his heart of gold, Is the real architect of archaic poems.                                                        - Skv.

     “Come up, O lions, and shake off the delusion that you are sheep; you are souls immortal, spirits free, blest and eternal; ye are not matter, ye are not bodies; matter is your servant, not you the servant of matter.“      "22nd is a bus strike," my two year old niece echoes. Welcome to God's own country, where cows graze on the road (the potholes provide abundance of green grass), 24 hartals in 6 months and new governments every five years. Generally when people in other parts of India plan for weekend getaways, my own malluland prepares itself for a hartal (Defining Harthal, "It is mass protest often involving a total shutdown of workplaces, offices, shops, courts of law as a form of civil disobedience"). While the whole world seems to surge ahead, Keralites are enjoying life at a pace of their own.      Every year visitors from within and outside India flock in to various corners of the state. Be it the clean beaches,...

     "Each blade of grass has its spot on earth whence it draws its life, its strength; and so is man rooted to the land from which he draws his faith together with his life."  ~ Joseph Conrad      And, if that isn't enough, there's always a plan B... John Denver - Country Roads .mp3 Found at bee mp3 search engine

     "I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next." Summer '09: Life was in turmoil. The bell of desperation seemed to ring continously. I had to find a way out of the warm and cozy environment in Aditi. It seemed to be so good that at times it would strangle me. Everything went along well except for the prospects of a bright future. Hobson's choice was simple. Stay and enjoy life. Or move ahead, struggle and grow. A twenty four year old hardly has any baggage in life. Pack up and leave. I had made mistakes before. And some of those mistakes had pushed me far ahead than the right decisions. My dad always told me that every opportunity was worth a try.      I didn't predict one thing though. The weather in Ba...

     “Fame is a vapor, popularity an accident, and riches take wings. Only one thing endures and that is character.” - Horace Greeley.      Long back I had promised myself that when my blogs would be consistent, I would post one regarding an Indian cricketer. We hate him; yes it’s pretty clear that we despise his attitude and arrogance. And the saying, “Pride comes before a fall” hardly seems to affect him because it provides the attention he seeks. Yet, every single time India plays a test match, he’s one of the forerunners for a 3-pronged pace attack. Introducing India’s bad boy cricketer (hold on, it’s not Yuvraj Singh), Kerala’s lone representative on the world stage (most mallus disregard and disown him), Shantakumaran S……. (last name hidden not due to copyright infringements, rather unsure about the most recent way to spell it). With an approach towards the bowling crease that reminisces of Alan Donald, a straight seam release of the...

  Walking down the old road, Those trees, those pebbles, Reminds me of something bygone, Lost in the winds, forever. The mind goes for a ride, Into the wilderness of memories, Leaving desires incomplete, Astray, but never forgotten. Humming the aged melody, Down from memory lane, Never the way it was, But memorable all along. I’d live up to my promises, Serve others till the end, But, walking down the old road, Reminds me of something bygone, Lost in the winds, forever.                                                 -Skv