Thought Bubbles

நீலஉடை மாதவள்தன் நீண்ட கரங்களில் நீள்இழைகளை ஏந்தி நல்லுயிர்ச்சங்கிலி செய்திட்டாள் பூரிப்பில் ஆழ்த்துமதை பூமியெனவே விளித்திட்டாள் புவியதனுள் பிணைத்திட்டாள் பற்பல உயிர்களையும் பறவைகள் விலங்குகள் பூச்சிகள் தாவரமென பிணைப்புகள் பலப்பலவாம் பின்னிய சங்கிலியில் காலம் மாறியதாலது கருத்தது துருவாலே காற்றில் மண்ணில் கலந்ததாம் மாசதுவும் மரங்கள் வீழ்த்தி மானிடர் வாழ்ந்தனராம் புவியதன் மேனியதும் பொலிவிழந்து போனதுவால் இயற்கையெனும் மாதவளின் இயக்கம்மாறி போயிற்றாம் மானிடச் செல்வங்கள் மாஇடராய் ஆயினராம் பூங்காற்றின் மேனியதை பேரிரைச்சல் கிழித்ததுவாம் சத்தமின்றி சிலஇனங்கள் சிதைந்தும் போயினவாம் மின்னிய விண்மீன்கள் மின்விளக்கின் ஒளியதனால்  மிளிர்வுதனை இழந்து மிகமங்கிப் போயினவாம் சீரிய மாதவளும் சீற்றம் கொண்டிட்டாள் சிறிய மானுடனின் செருக்கதை அழித்திடவே பஞ்சம் பெருவெள்ளம் படரும் நோய்க்கிருமியென பலப்பல துன்பங்கள் பெருகின மாந்தருக்கு தவறுணர்ந்த மானிடரும் தஞ்சம் தேடினராம் மாதவள் பாதம்வீழ்ந்து மன்னிக்கக் கோரினராம் "ஒன்றுபட்டு யாவருமிப்புவி ஓங்கச்செய்தல் வேண்டும் சங்கிலியை சீர்படுத்த சகலரும் முனைதல்வேண்டும் அங்கமா...

I was around three at that time. Amma and Appa used to go by train to work. My kindergarten school was near the railway station, and at a walkable distance from home. Amma would leave earlier, so most of the times Appa (and sometimes my Uncle and Aunt), would take me, (and my cousin), to school and then board the train later. I would mostly occupy the last bench in the class, because from the window at the back of the room, the railway station could be seen and I would wave to my dad from there, and he would wave back as he boards the train.  Whenever Appa used to take me to school, he would try to keep me engaged in a conversation to take my mind off the distance (which was only around 1 km, but to my three year old self it seemed like a never ending journey.) So, he used to teach me rhymes, songs, or speak to me of some stories from his childhood. It was during one of those walks that he introduced a song to me, he would sing and ask me to repeat it, and then explain th...

The lights begin to dim, as she walks in; Draped in silver threads, is her glowing skin. Like the quivering butterfly wings, Her eyelids flutter close, as she sings. Her voice resounds across the sky, Holding the triumph of a child’s first cry. The song is filled with joy and mirth, Like the music of a flower’s birth. So softly, the melody flows, Rustling their feathers as the nightingales doze. Enchanted by her beautiful beam, The stars around her blush and gleam. As she walks along the aisle, The waves rise to watch her smile. She sounds like the thrill of bedtime stories, And like laughter, free of worries. Like the curiosity in a child’s eyes, Like mischiefs and innocent lies. Like the mysteries that hide in the dark, Like the joyous cries of the skylark. She echoes the soft breaths of kids, As sleep begins to caress their eyelids. She voices the longing of lovers and their wistful sighs, As a ray of hope brightens the skies. The world is lost in the beauty of her song, Until anoth...

The Lady Nature, clothed in blue silk, Held the thread in her hands, Weaving it into a giant web, Life brimming from its strands. She marveled at her handiwork And promptly named it, ‘The Earth’, It held myriads of wonderful beings And the cycles of their death and birth. And as Earth began to grow, Her fibre radiant and strong, The lives she bore evolved, Fashioning a chain ever so long. Plants, animals, insects, and birds, Links to the ever long chain, Holding and also held by it, Helping the thread sustain. Yet, as time went by, Rust came creeping in, Pollution, depletion, deforestation, Abrading the Earth’s skin. The chain grew weaker and weaker, As the wings of rust unfurled, Plants, animals, insects, and birds, Vanished from the world. The Earth lost its glory  And Nature began to wane; Humans, once her treasured creations, Had now become her bane. The songs of the birds drowned; The air torn by loud noises, They faded from existence And the world forgot their voi...

A piece of the sky perched on my window: There had been a nest of bulbuls near the staircase leading to the terrace. Out of the three eggs, two had hatched. When the time had come, the mother and father were training the young ones to fly. One was a quick learner and flew away with the parents on the same day. One wasn't as quick and was left behind.  For three days, she had been sitting on the window grill watching the world outside through the glass, taking in the sky; that which housed the glorious sun, the dark rain clouds, the radiant moon, and all the brilliant stars. She had been longing to be a tiny speck of color in the vast canvas above. Occasionally, her family would bring her food, or just sit beside her, and try to offer comfort. But, she still had not been able to fly. She had sat there, her longings echoing in her melancholic cries.  That day, there had been an electricity problem at home. Feeling sleepy, I had come upstairs and had been lying down b...