There twirl toddlers
in party
frocks
Balloons,
festoons,
pastel icing
Helixes
swirl,
Modern-day
jukeboxes
Create
waves,
Occupy the
air
Mosquitos
hum
Blithe,
light marshmallows
Mini
dervishes,
atomic energy
Flouncy,
cloud-like, intangible
Ekphrastics
be fantastic
-Do we
cater to accessibility?
Tactile,
audible,
Braille-book
tracks
-Read the
confetti
By V.
Shruti Devi
Ode to Technology
(in a diamante)
Tech
I hear thee
And we are
enmeshed
Philosophers refined, and technologists
Geniuses,
corporate czars, with propellants
Of various
promptings
Temperance
No climate
fanatics here
-add it to
the mix
Waves go
chasing solutions….
By V.
Shruti Devi
AUM
CHANTING (written in the style of a Pantoum)
I chanted,
I painted, the Mantra divine
Began with aum
bhoo, all that is
Micro,
macro, elemental spine
Things as
they are before they fizz
Began with
aum bhoo, all that is
Then
intoned aum bhuvah, interactions of matter
Things as
they are before they fizz
Turn to
blendings, mergers, imbroglios that splatter
Then
intonated aum bhuvah, interactions of matter
Before
raising the level to aum swaha, the interplay with one
Turn to
blendings, mergers, imbroglios that splatter
Mooladhara,
Swadisthtana crossed, now the Solar Plexus to stun
Before
raising the level to aum swaha, the interplay with one
Sounds purify nerves: electric, magnetic, there’s more
Mooladhara,
Swadisthtana crossed, now the Solar Plexus to stun
Stunned, rarefied, climb to aum mahaha, the heart, the annahata’s lore
Sounds
purify nerves: electric, magnetic, there’s more
Aum janaha, the throat chakra, Vishuddha, blue
Stunned,
rarefied, climb to aum mahaha, the heart, the annahata’s lore
Surmount
it, and the voice-box will speak true
Aum janaha,
the throat chakra, Vishuddha, blue
Paint
splashes to canvas, synchronous creator
Surmount
it, and the vice-box will speak true
Once it
has, you’re aum tapaha, ajna meditator
Paint
splashes to canvas, synchronous creator
Aum satyam,
truth, with starscapes you may now be in synch
Once it
has, you’re aum tapaha, ajna meditator
You’ve
painted a graph, you’re whatever you think.
By V.
Shruti Devi
Larkspurs
layered and swayed in the lull
Oriole, a golden oriole, and on a mag with the legend,
Friend Request, an Owl
Delhi
deewane, O, in Lutyens’ zone we did dwell
Irises,
iconic flora, avians intel
Eagles,
enigmas (invisible stars), the odd egret, euphorbias
Spinach,
starfish, aquarium-creatures, sparrows, squirrels,
Tall trees, termites, clipped grass, hollyhocks, phlox, peacocks
trending
Aloe vera,
araucaria, asparagus, astounding aura, never-ending
Tip-toeing
feline, bees in a beeline, tomatoes and tea-time
Endgame:
Eureka! Bird-baths, grains, -the mains! Earth Empire
By V.
Shruti Devi
FORMULA PEACE (a limmerick)
There was a
fast bowler from 'stan
Rediscovered
online, oh man!
Epic
speeches, polls,
Siyasi, those roles
Now in
stern pavilions; alleged scams
- By V.
Shruti Devi
O mortal,
mortal who didst write,
It’s
possible, you could be right
-Some
eternal brand and dye
Made grain
and beast, diversified
Cocooned in
their inner eyes
Sprang
forth visions, fireflies
Dream-borne
kings, queens on the wire
The Humane
Band reached out higher
And science
bolder, unsurpassed
Conjured
alogrithms breeds apart
And though
AI’s heart sought to defeat
Homo
sapiens knew their beat
Whose the
grammar? Chart the plains
Which
Authorities did one train?
A
blue-bird’s feather, a goat that gasped
Crumbling
castle, the interiors rasp
Drones rain
down, reach out to peers
-“We’re
rich yellers with spears”
-“Wish
we’re not poor”, I’m: “We’re free
-Someone
outwitted the laboratory”
By V.
Shruti Devi
CHALICE (written as a sonnet)
An evening
drive, a reservoir’s a draw
Picture-perfect
hillsides, hamlets tranquil
Sunset, flint-stones,
boat-rides, houses of straw
Migratory
geese, snail shells, photos to fill
Soundless
waters, smoky abodes afar
Woodland
ripples in the lake and the sky
Stillness,
silence, clear air, quarries a scar
Almost
pristine, weeds make bouquets -no why
Return to
write, record the eve’s pink glow
Sipping
from an earthen tea mug, pond-bath
In art,
crystal lines are set to follow
trends of
enchantment, rare golden star-paths
What’s
seen, what’s heard, what’s done by human minds
Sometimes
appears more fab in close rewinds
-By V. Shruti Devi
By V.
Shruti Devi
MARINE
DRIVE, VIZAG: Dolphin’s Nose
A
light-house appears
-pierces through
the Dolphin’s Nose,
the hill
that’s withstood
years of
surf and sand,
docked
seaward among its
spaced-out
peers
-Gently
curves into the ocean
-Who set
these lines in motion?
On the
earth, on this artsy surface
Light skips
light,
the
creator’s heart, a beat
Did
intruders dare render this work incomplete
and
puncture in this nose-pin,
A Calcutta
candy-stick
-the Bay of
Bengal,
Swirling
gin
by Vizag by
the bay.
The
repeated light
Marked a
place, a time,
a regular evening sight
It came to
be
-to wave
ships off the jagged lee
Does it
prevail
When
storm-winds wail?
Do fish
swim up with prayer and plea,
Radiant?
Who drew
the dolphins on a receding tide?
The
nose-line fades into the old city
The
burgeoning beach-line
-the
behemoth
Develops
its way to a new aerocity.
By V.
Shruti Devi
Marine
Drive, Vizag: Coconut Groves
As the
Dolphin’s Nose and dockyard
diminish in
the rear-view mirror
A look-east
policy
by and
large
(Ingressions,
outcrops, Feng Shui would know the stops)
would be in
order to the right.
To the
left,
Statues and
a litany
of
beach-road draws
A seaward
crane
calls to
sight
transplanted
groves
Trussed-up
coconut palms
Await their
new-found fate.
-to unfurl
and to flourish
(which they
did).
More
appeared in droves:
Symmetrical
coco plazas
-square
feet now dot the shore.
By V.
Shruti Devi
MARINE
DRIVE, VIZAG: Lawson’s Bay
Past the
city’s elite
Ramakrishna
Beach
the wheels
roll on
The
juggernaut of development
slaps a
tsunami of a road
across our
lands.
Compensation?
Do clear
that coast, O holy ghost! With solatium.
What a ship
down,
a petition
up
whose
street?
There’s
salt in the air,
a steady
breeze
past Gyan
Vilas,
the
ancestral monument
frieze to
frieze
Time was
An ancestor
meditated
Undisturbed
and
Attained
-was it
Samadhi?
One
registers
one’s mortal
plot
As ships
diminish at sea
and fishing
fleets
present
themselves
picturesquely
A hilly
climb
by Lawson’s
Bay
(a pirate,
legend has it)
Winding
past
dunes and stretches of ocean view,
Pathlets
once led to streaky sand
We’d alight
with picnic gear
Mats and
beach buckets,
Sandwiches
and tea-things
Not a human
soul in sight
but the
family band
casting
footprints on the shore
The
wave-break line,
jumping
waves
gathering
diverse shells galore
Jagged
rocks
miniature
sub-terrains:
pools
amidst crags
Insets of
corals
spied at
sunset
-the tongue
of the sea,
cowrie
shells, nabhi sea buttons,
conch-like
pokey shells,
and what
have we
Not a hint
of human civilization
Not even
from the
fishing
village
that
assails the nostrils
en route
-where
gliding through the
atmosphere
Is a dried
fish inhalation
that’s
bound to sublimate
into
the body, mantra-filled
Oxidized,
Iodized,
I inhabit
these zones
And beyond.
By V.
Shruti Devi
MARINE
DRIVE, VIZAG: Cyan Meditations
Across the
hills, and over the waves
The
hypnotic buoyancy
of
awareness
dwells
on
impressions
-the
hourglass a phantom:
-no
co-ordinates, no dial, no moon-face
But
granular views
of
suspended animation
-The high
gloss
of the ventral
side of a
giant wave
as a surfer
negotiates
an Old
Spice ad.
How was the
scene envisaged;
-When?
(I recall
playing on the
water’s line
And being
taken unaware
by a
gigantic wave
-a towering
wall.
With family
around,
one didn’t
slip, didn’t fall,
But it was
a watershed moment
-the sea wasn’t
a breeze
the ocean’s
floor was steep
was the
crux of that summer vacation)
-One had
lived a tale
and would
tell it.
Decades
later,
A road
slashed through
the
precarious cliff-side
hairpin
bend
The crag
morphed
into a park
and wings
of steps
descended
sea-ward
Predictably,
crowds began to manifest
At the base
of that hill
One
eventually did alight
I think it
was 2010,
in the
early-morning light
to do the
Suryanamaskaar
And to
chant the Gayatri Mantra
unhindered
by the
crystal japa mala
-Fortunately
for me,
I had a
family friend to count the beads
-a
philosophical volunteer,
an aunt,
And another
one
with whom
I’d conversed
the previous day
threw
further light on my
theories of breath
and chants
-articulating
“Yah Allah”
was also
a breathing
exercise
At that
post-dawn hour
As one did
God-knows
how many
Suryanamaskaars
and
rendered the mantra
into the
dome of the horizon
In very
considered, practiced, unique ways,
the hymn,
in my book,
acquired
new syllables:
“Yah
Allah!”
-I look
heavenwards
and the
“rosy-tinted dawn”
displays
the
scribbles
of a
jet-plane
flying
north-by-north-west,
I suppose.
Clad in a
flaming orange and yellow
two-piece
swimsuit
from
Greater Kailash, Delhi,
Energized,
one began the ascent
back to the road
Engulfed in
a blue tie-dye
wrap-around
The environ
caught the
surround-sound
In
retrospect
I believe
Baywatchers,
cops, whoever they were
Did keep a
wary eye
Even if
from atop the cliff.
Cell-phone
cameras
had not yet
come into their own
But the
sparks on the shoreline
might well
have been in the line of view
of the
International Space Station’s view!
This marked
my thirty-eighth
trip around
the sun.
A close-up
of the planet’s
aqua-lung.
By V.
Shruti Devi
MARINE
DRIVE, VIZAG: The Bheemli Stretch
Before the
advent
of intricate sign-boards
and signages
The
hour-long jaunt
from Vizag
to the town of Bheemli
was thought
of
as Bheemli
beach,
and
pronounced
Bimli
Pulling
beams
of
light-house waves
of rippling illumination
There
once stood in B-town
a beach house, a palace of the
nation
that
once was.
-My
mother’s mother, the heiress.
For years,
one passed by the ruins
while
driving into Vizag
from Kurupam
if we took
the Bimli route
A scene
from a
tragic Hindi movie
had been
shot there:
Ek Duje Ke
Liye (For Each Other)
This
thoroughfare meets a dead-end
in this
town
-A recent
discovery
while
traversing these paths
to survey
lands.
It
re-emerges
in the
avatar
of the East
Coast highway.
But on the
Vizag-Bheemli stretch
Deciduous
ghaats
overlook
the tar,
the
sea-ward terrain,
the narrow
sandy bar
before the
high-tide line
the
low-tide line
…there are
Coastal Regulation Zones
that are in
play.
On flatter
stretches
You’re
treated
to
navy-blue glimpses of the bay
the Eastern
Naval Command holds sway.
Casurinas
were once riddled
Into
clearings after roadside clearings
You’d
sometimes spot a stray vehicle
Around the
Winter Solstice,
heaving
home a maritime catch
-not a
shoal of fish
but a
trunk, a branch
of tropical
greens
-Mistletoes
to be adorned
with
shimmering stars and cottony themes.
Where
resorts and restaurants now capture the horizon
There once
was a diversity,
a natural
mix
of scrubby
herbs and grasses….
The
imagination puts acrylic to canvas
But would
need to surpass
the
artistic genius
of those
who inspired this style
with
palette knives and brushes:
Artists in
the family:
-Glimpsing
Greens by Kusum, and Terraqueous by Preeti
Masterpieces
and exhibitions
of the twentieth century.
The
impressionists were a major factor
A bard’s
eye-view,
-you get
the picture.
By V.
Shruti Devi
Apt, then
that the
image
that one
focuses on today
is a view
of books
On this,
the eve of Guru Purnima
A heritage
library,
personal.
The
ancestor who peopled
these
antique shelves
with
thinkers, healers, cartographers, poets, playwrights
and their
fancies’ elves
Kick-started
one’s waking being
to the ways
of Nature, humankind
Crumbling
pages,
weevil-devoured
From dust
to dust
proved in
instant shards
of
hard-bound litter
Sunning out
the pages
-for not
too long
lest the
binding melts
lest the
voltaic intensity
of monsoon
storms
make short
shrift
of
encyclopediae,
gazettes,
and solemn
law books all in a row
-Even the
world’s first Oriya dictionary
penned by a
relative of long ago.
Back into
shelves,
solar-showered
Suryanarayana’s
trove
and more
Armies of
‘modern’ medicine,
Of modern
political thought
Treatises
on astrology, history, wildlife, art
Religion
was a later shoo-in
One cut
one’s teeth
on
Shakespearean delights
with Henry
Irving’s complete works
and an
exhaustive microcosm of miniatures
treasured,
gem-like.
The glow-worms
of
brilliant minds.
He must’ve
liked Tennyson
there’s the
complete works
and there’s
the complete works
that
explains one’s partiality to alliteration
in the days
of Wright and elocution,
a win-win
situation
at least.
Though one
was leafing through Emily’s works
rescued
from the stocks
of Sunday
Daryaganj roadside strews
Looking for
non-pedestrian verse
to toss
into one’s stew
with eye of
sophomore, the admission of Shrew:
and waltz
into hallowed portals
to be
interviewed to read some more at SSC
from
nineteen ninety to ninety-three
-Three
glorious years studying drama, poetry, prose,
Graduated
with honours from Saint Stephen’s, Delhi
Gorged on
samosas, burgers, gulab jamuns and neembu paani
Fuel to
interpret those fort-bound tomes
and tea.
A book or
few
made it to New
Delhi
Talisman-like,
treasured
in
book-cases from Lutyen’s to Gurgaon and Lutyen’s and back:
from a
series of literary works; the ubiquitous Tennyson;
the
manufacture of syrups and such-like.
In years
past
we’ve
striven to preserve
the
library,
keep the
books in condition
-Shaking
off pests,
lining
shelves
through our
south-bound homeward-bound
summer,
winter and other vacations
-enlisting
guests
if they
were close enough and eager
to be a
part of the ongoing mission
to save
those volumes.
Some were
brittle, some had stamps,
signatures
and labels too
With bated
breath, one scours type-sets for handwritten notings (rare)
Over the
years, we learnt a trick or two:
Dried
tobacco leaves
are the
best repellents
(of
insects, rodents, reptiles, even)
Interested
homo sapiens
do
gravitate and peer
Sometimes
startled by the snakeskin veneer
of those
dehydrated arboreal placements
Smoking?
You’re joking!
Present-day
publishers and authors
have been
transiting into gaps
created
by the
churn.
Our own
writings (my father’s book on electoral reforms; my solo works of fiction,
non-fiction, poetry and miscellany; my grandma’s recipe book)
and books
by people we know
-the intelligentsia
of
twenty-first century India
and of
distant shores
The
Constituent Assembly Debates,
the Madras
Law Journals
Cookbooks, magazines,
mores and journals
-Shikaar
tales, poetry, poultry
One’s packs
of tarot decks
and tarot
guides
Books of
mystery, of adventure: Childrens’ literature
And the
comely Victorian romance or two
What you
see in the picture
could well
be a series,
a close-up
of volumes
placed
on
paper-lined shelves
Which have,
on occasion,
made for
equally gripping reading
-a
startling head-line from a much-archived newspaper
Those
glossy old calendars
and rolls
of brown paper
have found
berths
on this
track (stay away, weevils, we will be back
to rock
you)
As the
digital age
makes its
advances
And one
often sits at a laptop
surrounded
by these depicted pages
-the
library of my ancestor,
The
Zamindar-Rajah of Kurupam,
One mulls
over
commending
selections
to electronic
media….
Once-in-a-cyclone,
whimsically
crafting
one’s magna
opera
of recycled
handmade lib. souvenirs
In some
instances
Republication
could regale the masses
-dispatched
straight from the rural fort.
As we
concern ourselves
with more
haute
collections
of reading matter
in the
nation’s present-day capital,
the Delhi
NCR, Gurugram
At my
sibling’s,
titles for
children, young adults,
voracious
readers. (And writers!)
Coffee-table
books, biographies,
And, of
course,
The cases
of the Supreme Court
which, by
now,
are all
online,
and free
Though
black-and-red volumes
line my
urban walls
A bunch of
cedar pencils
and cloves
keep silver-fish at bay
Zoom
conferences, video calls
Visions
surface in pools of lamp-light
In a zoom-in,
you’re transported
to the
original spot
that evoked
the
representation.
By V.
Shruti Devi
