The Feminist.

The Feminist.
===========
I am a feminist.
To be a feminist one need not be a woman.
It is the blood of woman that runs through
The arteries of me, you and all.
Though my father made me happen,
I am here because of my mother.
My wife is the pride of my fatherhood.

A woman is not there behind
Every successful man,as the adage goes.
She is in front of him,day in and day out.
Making his fancy wings flutter,
Helping his thoughts move forward.
And his dreams take off by her feather touch.
A woman is the value addition of the world.

The feminist in woman is a myth.
Her clamor for a place that she already has,
Is not an awakening but a thought of attrition.
Wherever she holds her position,society wins.
A flattered woman is in a state of palsy.
The state of truly cherished womanhood rests with men
Who as feminists, adore her from the bottom of their heart.
                                                                        P.Chandrasekaran.

Intercontinental insights.

Intercontinental insights.
=================
What is soil but a place,
To live in and work with.
Higher education and employment
Are more airborne today, than ever.
Career is an intercontinental carrier.
The universe is getting shrunk more,
As its beings move farther and faster.
The wider one travels, the closer the globe is.
The passion for progress crosses continents.
Some gain experience and energy.
Some lose their threads and roots.
Greater civilizations are those
That kill racial and religious interiors.
The making up of a single race
Can uproot man's soil moorings,
By mixing up food, drinks and clothes.
As the colors of life change for a new style
The colors of the mind change one's profile.
But the body like the soil is just a background,
When the mind changes its colors the body is buried.
So is the soil by all that grows on it.
Both the soil and the body are exploited zones,
Frequently getting tampered with.by pressures,
Painted on them by the passing occupancy patterns.

Far from these,there are some who never cross barriers,
But stay stuck to their soil,expanding scopes all the while;
With their mind, that matches its myriad colors to the body,
And their thoughts and ways of life, as stable sensors,
They embrace the bulk of mankind with a sublime hug.
Like plants absorbing water and carbon dioxide,
Like seers seeing gods from with in,
From where they are,they have the continents drawn to them.
We call them cosmopolitans and humanitarians.
                                                               P. Chandrasekaran.

Pedestrian Thoughts.

             Pedestrian Thoughts.

The tardy trucks wryly wriggled their way
Like pythons looking for their unlucky prey.
The trucks knew where to leave the load away,
As the pythons their spot, for their eggs to lay.

When the zebra crossing is often set to rest.
The pedestrians' patience is pushed to test.
In countries known to honour the human feet,
People cross the streets without the police beat.

But our urban pavements are a haven of bribes
For fixing dwellers,peddlers and homeless tribes.
Most streets here, have no walking zones as such,
And road traffic hits walkers,with a wicked touch.
.
Pedestrians on roads seem to walk on nails and knives,
Battling with traffic terror ruining their limbs and lives.
                                                              P.Chandrasekaran.