Scaling New Heights.

          Scaling New Heights.

      Motherhood is a masterpiece in creativity
      And not a mechanical delivery system;
      Childhood is the instant access to innocence.
      And not a castle building course in the cradle.
      Boyhood is making buoyant steps forward
      And not a breezy stroll, for borrowing
      Lifestyle manual in easy installments.
      Girlhood is a self governing grand script
      Not a selfie device for gaining  leverage
      Through  competitive fashion parades.
      Adulthood is a sabbatical state between
      The bonny side of bachelorhood and marriage
      And not for beating against the walls in self defeat.
      Ageing should be a guiding calendar sheet
      Not a fodder for fruitless and futile mastication
      On  the soiled stories of a life time.  
      If each stage of life is at loose ends with the other,
      It is a struggle for fitting fragments into a perfect form.
      If one follows the other,living gets stereotyped.
      If each stage of life influences the other as a leading ladder,
      The right mix of stages, mounts new heights for views broader
                                                P.Chandrasekaran.

The Woes of English.

       The Pangs of a British Legacy.

"My users have a hell of lot, to do with me.

A few decades ago, they were my mirror.

I looked fabulous, when I saw myself through them;

Today they are causing blisters on my face

With their killing,keyboard manoeuvres.

Whenever they wantonly skip an alphabet,

I feel like losing one of my limbs,in an accident.

When they love to be ungrammatical,

They seem to put me in a casualty ward ;

At times,even in the intensive care unit,

With an internal organ failure,for urgent care.

How beautiful I looked in the hands of

A Shakespeare or Milton,a Johnson or Russell,

A Dickens or a Hardy,or an Ayn Rand,for instance.

Even the Dailies who loved my original looks,

Have begun to tamper with my alphabet,

On account of their electronic arrogance.

What they want is,how I am understood.

And not how appealing,the understanding should be.

I have become What T.S. Eliot once said,of them..

‘A heap of broken images and a withered stump of Time.’

The letters of my alphabet are crossed like their fingers.

Why a generation with neat,new and nice ideas,

Should choose to clothe them in rags,as a fashion?

Why this poverty of language,for a purpose peculiar?

Should my sentences,face an undue Death Sentence?"
P. Chandrasekaran.

A Pyramid of Precepts.

    A  Pyramid of Precepts.

   Love's waves recede

   When one draws farther,

   As the other moves closer.

   Frankness breaks down in other's silence.

   Reciprocity is the note of compliance,

   That rules the rhythm of living for a purpose.

   Thinking, and doing one’s thought differently,

   Does not mean one is crossing the other

   At frequent junctions for a battleground.

   Diversities double up the directions of life,

   Though all directions are horizon bound.

   Talk to differ; but talk, one should.

   Pyramids are made from a broader base.

   It is the growing peak that makes sense.

   The peak is the culmination of coming together,

   That makes the base for betting and binding,

   For moving closer, to break down silence,

   And  reinforce frankness never to break.            

                                                  P.Chandrasekaran.

Suburban Thoughts.

           Suburban Thoughts.

   Expansion is both a symptom and sequel,

   Like the swelling traced in a body.

  Cities expand at the cost of their neighborhood.

  The highway lanes expand, for making many an exit.

  The vertical expansions are for 'high living' 

  And skipping suffocating stop overs, while moving.

''Either till the soil or kill it, to make sites for realtors

  Or the industry lords'' say the land acquisition lobbies. 

  Resources are meant for distribution, is their logic .

  Plantation of saplings is meant only for posterity.

  Benefit someone to provide the shade, shifting the trees.

  The size of the new shade will of course belong to those

  Who know to survive better than the deprived.

  Riches grow for some because they know,

  How to surgically remove  for a cause,

  The swelling in others, calling it a disease symptom.

  Ethically speaking, encroachment is good

  For creating growing neighborhoods.

  A good neighbor is one who knows, by all means,

  To fend for himself  without mending his fences.

  A burgeoning neighbourhood is that 

  Which brings down the vanity of soil lovers,

  Rusting with their rural belongings, of road ridden tractors,

  Transporting thoughts of simple living and high thinking.

  ''Let the floors remain where they are'' echo the suburban voices;

  ''The carpets will take care of the whole show''.

                                                            P.Chandrasekaran.

A Round the Clock Romantic.

A Round the Clock Romantic.
=======================

Once I landed on a double moon
Your pair of eyes;
Your lips synchronized with your feelings.
The body language of romance
Breaks the barriers of the body,
In search of something more than the body.
Fondling  may be and is, the front liner,
In leading the journey of making love.
But love is more than making love;
It is more than being together in bed.
Love is the power of vision in the pair of eyes
Reading the closed text of the other,
Without the other's knowledge and approval. 
A feeling of fineness in perfection.
Like the joy of breaking the ice,
Like the thrill of tasting the oil
Through the food, fried in it.
Like  the aroma identifying its source.
Through invisible tracking devices.
Like the known ears navigating
The niceties in the notes of music, .
I can reach my double moon wherever they are,
As pet animals reach their homes unguided
And steal the throbs of the heart in proximity. 
Aren't the fingers God's gift,
To digitally fine tune fantasies with facts.
The fatigue of fingers closes not, the facts and fantasies.
For love is nothing but a round the clock symphony of the soul,
Heard through the vibrations of the senses and thoughts in eternity.                                                                                                                                    P.Chandrasekaran.