The Happy Wanderer

"Where to, son?" "French class, and then violin soon after." "Splendid. Which reminds me, didn't you perform in London last summer?" "Oh yes. All too well! We're planning to get an orchestra together soon."  "Brilliant things for brilliant minds. Aren't you trying one of those coaching classes?" "No; which ones?" "The ones that crowds are surging to, of course. A handful of names and handfuls of people!" (smiling) "The Maths and Physics classes? I love math, but I don't like hard-core math. There's a lot of math in music, you know. And in languages too!" (patting the other) "Better keep in touch with what some of the other folks are doing, you! A tip for a tuppence. They'll leave you behind before you realize it." "Oh, sure." (casually) Humanities. They are contexts in which some people would shrug when they heard this word. It's a lovely word inde...

Little woman, you are growing, I measure you against the firs. Little woman, let me mark your presence, Against every specimen along which the brook skirts. Little woman, do you remember chasing the fowls? Do you remember how you shrieked when they poached them at dawn? Do recall that moment in the fall, When you heaped the leaves on a sudden call From the wind? Creeping stealthily against the motion of the fawn, Through the woods of long-ago, now pruned into lawn, They are all the more beautiful for it, little woman, For all their rounds, you've aptly set the tone. Little woman, hurry home An errand is waiting for you- How can you be so stoic, Little Woman, when there's so much to do? Crouch, little woman, under the pine, Enjoy the shade of the spruces, Make the most of the moonshine- It'll soon be swept away in rows and truces. The men are coming- on horses With weapons and arms galore, They have no taste for the tales that are nestled, Among...

May nobody forbid, as the morrow lies, Is the path along which the crow flies. Eager as we are, we follow its trail, And course the dangers it might entail. Where the morrow lies, there is a birch, A bird flaunting its priceless perch. For the feathered dear isn't feather-brained, It's found the morrow, who are we to disdain? The copious green of the morrow says, The true and convinced can only stay. Green might wilt and other colours may reign, But the morrow wants decisiveness, not crane. The braided paths of the morrow twist And brood and sweat, lament and pine, The clearing that they culminate at persists In declaring the ways, true and divine. Who can stop us treading down, The morrow once twilight creams into dawn? The morrow comes, the morrow goes, We can reach it heavy-toed.

Southwards, towards the Coromandel Coast, My native town does lie, My heart throngs to see it, With each blink of an eye. I know the people and the names of places, I know the native tongue, I know the colours, bold and gracious, And the sound of morning and night. At home, with family, with cousins and aunts, With genial uncles and solemn grandpas, With grandmas and their awaited grants! The leaves brush against my fingers, As I swing up and down, Picturing this very town, As a six or seven year old! If you know your geography, A banana leaf must surely figure, In the vague mists of your imagination, That I so far managed to trigger. But to eat with a dozen in your family, And cuddle up and share, What life has been dealing them, And what it has spared, With a full meal in front of you, With Rasam, Mor, and Parappu! And mind the kari and the uppu! We wade away towards the beach, Where the water froths and wets the sand....

Dear Rafael, I am not a tennis-lover, but your autobiography with John Carlin must have inspired millions and it sure has inspired me. It made me turn page after page in eagerness to find out which facet of your personality would be unveiled next. And sure and subtly enough, you have got me to know you very well! I liked the line in 'Rafa- My Story' which said that Wimbledon was one of your favorite tournaments, and the Wimbledon crowd, one of the best spectators. It was added soon after, that for you, it wasn't about the strawberry-cheese (a similar phrase!:) ) crowds, as much as the effort wasn't a 'strawberry-cheese' feeling- it was as real as the crowds and the routine and being both a 'pragmatist' and a 'dogmatist.' What really drew me in was your fascination for routines. Sometimes, I realize, it is hard to keep up routines and superstitions, but I also realize that they serve the purpose of giving one the kind of certainty, foc...

We were all born from one Adam and one Eve. Why then, are we all so different? Why are there surges and troughs in games like tennis, cricket and football for every country?  Recalling from History lessons, I can safely say that there were several races that shuffled across the world and time: the Jews, the Aryans, the Germans,  and so on. India had two primary races inhabit her: the Aryans and  Dravidians.  The geography of the planet shaped different needs for those on different parts of it. Rugged terrains demanded agility, stamina and strength, the seas demanded enterprise and readiness for a weather-beaten, risk-taking life, the landlocked mainlands demanded conquest and able leadership. And so, the neandrathal man developed accordingly. The sun tanned some, reddened some, spared some. Thus, professions came about, and complexions too.  'To each his own'. India was a self-sufficient country through the Ancient and Medieval Ages. This granted ...