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Latha Mohan Poem
Stepping down from the AC coach
on to the railway platform
A hot wave of salty moist air
drenches me
On my customary visit
to this city I'm tethered to
by my memories..
She coyly calls herself Chennai
like a new bride renamed
in her husband's home
At heart though she is still Madras
and to the likes of me ;
It's a relief to slip into my mother tongue
to bargain with the auto walla
after mouthing words for months together
in an alien tongue..
We slice through the dense traffic
As I nod distractedly
to the driver's political soliloquy
While my eyes search for familiar landmarks
that were part of my youth
Moore market
Poppat Jamal
Saphire theatre
Gemini flyover;
the city rushes by
a phantasmagoria of urban scenes
until the fragrance of panneer roses
attack my nostrils
as I watch flower sellers
deftly spinning silver threads
around thick rose garlands...
The milling crowd at Pondy Bazaar
with women shopping tirelessly
for jewels, sarees and utensils..
Saravana bhavan coming to the rescue
of their cravings
for sambhar vada or bhelpuri....
I quickly make a mental list
of goods to take back when I return--
Coffee powder
baby mangoes
mor milagai
ambika appalam
not to forget
a visit to the Naidu Hall..
The bottle neck at Panagal park
a hub for matrimonial shopping
slows down my journey,
then a familiar slide down
the doraiswamy subway
and a furlong along the railway tracks
I alight in mambalam
where my mother awaits with open arms;
A week's time for me
to imbibe the city's moods..
to gaze at cawing ravens on neem trees
to discuss the story line of soaps on TV
to inhale the simple aromas of brahmin meals
Before I bid farewell to it temporarily
Copyright © Latha Mohan | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Latha Mohan Poem
Have a conversation with me
Without the scent of last night's
wine in your breath,
Remove your spectacles of prejudice
before we begin to speak,
Let me not have to
mull over every word
Before they escape my lips,
Respond to my words
not to your screwed up thoughts
about me,
Talk to me
with your pulse rate below eighty
Pluck not words from my mouth
I never meant to release.
Copyright © Latha Mohan | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Latha Mohan Poem
Echummi was married
even before she learnt to
wear a saree
and when she did learn
she learnt to wear white
only white
and often when she passed a mirror
what she saw would chill her spine..
A shaven head, bare hands
and bare forehead
Oh! how she would have loved
to see colors..
A big red bindi, green bangles
a purple saree-
She was taught to drape herself
In a way she could hide her curves
And so Echummi learnt
to conceal her beauty,
to hide her youth
and to drown her verves
''Don't look at men ''she was warned,
And Echummi learnt
to curb her senses
and her impulses;
she learnt to stifle her
dreams and her sobs;
She learnt to sleep on hard floors
not yearn for a caress or a touch;
Echummi learnt to cook every dish
And to abstain from delicious food,
She learnt to be absent
on all auspicious occasions
and not cross the path
of propitious people,
She learnt to go unnoticed
unrecognized
like a shadow on the wall..
Unheard, unseen
sinking into oblivion..
Echummi learnt to die
even when she was alive!
Copyright © Latha Mohan | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Latha Mohan Poem
Awaken with the break of a tangerine dawn
bathing you in its Crimson sacredness !
Meditate with the majestic Pine trees
Towering the skies
Transcending the temporal !
Dance among the wild poppies and lupines
Reveling in your freedom and aliveness!
Like Robins and Jays
Singing Life's joyous melodies
Live with abandon, moment to moment !
Blend into the green inkiness of the wooded
foliage
Dissolving into its Pure Beingness!
Fall in love with Twilight's magical moments
That mimics life's ephemerality!
Surrender to the Silence
Of the dark night
Deep within the cave of your heart !
Slip into sweet slumber of Everlasting Bliss
Caressed by the forest 's gentle breath!!
Copyright © Latha Mohan | Year Posted 2024
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