Dussehra by Madathil Rajendran Nair SignUp
Boloji.com
Channels

In Focus

 
Analysis
Cartoons
Education
Environment
Opinion
Photo Essays
 
 

Columns

 
Business
Random Thoughts
 
 

Our Heritage

 
Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema
Culture
Festivals
Hinduism
History
People
Places
Sikhism
Spirituality
 
 

Society & Lifestyle

 
Health
Parenting
Perspective
Recipes
Society
Teens
Women
 
 

Creative Writings

 
Book Reviews
Computing
Humor
Individuality
Literary Shelf
Memoirs
Quotes
Stories
Travelogues
Workshop
 
 
Editor's Choice
Theme: Festival Share This Page
Dussehra
by Madathil Rajendran Nair
Bookmark and Share
 

Men, women and children
Sat everywhere in the brilliant sun
Selling red and yellow flowers
Incense, sugar-cane, puffed rice, sweets
In the vicinity of the Durga temple
Right on the road
Obstructing traffic
Unmindful of somnambulistic passersby

Walkers walked the roads
As though in a dream
Their demeanour astral
Motorists stopped right
In the middle of the road
Before the temple
To say their prayers
Caring two hoots
For the noisy hoots
Of impatient honkers behind
They had a sign on their hind glass
“If you honk, you are a retard”

The time is Dussehra in India
When the Universal Mother descends
To stomp the streets
In victorious valour
On the back of Her ferocious lion
When not having
Dangerously trespasses
Into the territory of
Over-abundance

Street dogs fought in abandon
Perhaps inspired
By Her unseen presence
No one cared
Rabies was the last thing
Anyone feared
When the Mother was around
To bless everyone with Her looks
That warded off plague and pox

Women with jasmine
Loaded on their black oiled hair
Breezed around in chatter
Like spring clouds
Those who discerned saw the Mother
In them and bowed in reverence
Their sweat smelt the Mother
On poor earth
What more can any man care?

A solitary cumulonimbus
Laboured on the hills
Watching the scene
Undecided if she should rain
Her bowels filled with
Thunder, fire and lightning
Like the hungry ones on the ground

Awareness stood witness
Capturing the scene
The Mother of everything
Born, unborn and dying

I lay before Her prostrating
My incapable arms clasping
The neck of Her Lion and mane
Where else can a poor Indian soul
Find its peace than at Her feet?
Bless us Mother with your looks
A multitude of ignorant fools
Bacterial on the streets of life

Share This:
October 12, 2013
More By: Madathil Rajendran Nair
Views: 1314      Comments: 9

Comments on this Poem

Comment Last Stanza is the Tilak of this poem

Ramdas
10/16/2013 05:22 AM

Comment Beautiful! May Mother bless you to write more.

Rian John
10/15/2013 00:25 AM

Comment
Dear Madathil Ji,

Thanks for your endearing words.

Happy Dussehra to you and everyone on Boloji.

Cheers
Aparna

alwaysaparna
10/14/2013 05:40 AM

Comment Thanks, Nair Ji, for the GREAT INDIAN PICTURE. This vibrancy, IMHO, will continue to stay however hard one may try to globalise

balagopal
10/14/2013 01:49 AM

Comment Really U R a poet

Ashok Classic
10/13/2013 01:37 AM

Comment Good poem.Good image. Thanks a lot.

Nathmal Sharma
10/12/2013 22:13 PM

Comment Dear Madathil R Nair,

A wonderful prayer to Goddes Durga Mata, appropriate to the present day life around and the auspicious occasion.
Thanks for sharing with us

ramachandran

Ramachandran
10/12/2013 21:33 PM

Comment Thanks Padmaja-ji. Credit for the image goes, as usual, to our Aparna-ji. Boloji poetry is lifeless without her. She is the very Mother!

madathilnair
10/12/2013 13:10 PM

Comment The irony and satire is unmistakable in this poem...A great prayer at the end. Above all, a superb accompanying visual of Ma Durga. Thanks for sharing Nairji.

Padmaja Iyengar
10/12/2013 09:22 AM




Name *
Email ID
 (will not be published)
Comment *
Verification Code*
Can't read? Reload
Please fill the above code for verification.



 
 
 
 
 
 
1999-2021 All Rights Reserved
 
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder
.