LONG LIVE TIRUVALLUVAR

Even birds dropped sitting on the
Tolerant shoulders of these bronzes
Who once voted them to power.
The five-year wait will end in
A renovation and more intense
Blood-curdling sermons and arousals
About his literary-political importance
And then after a while, yet another wait.

C.DEEPESH


WOUNDED INDIA

India is bleeding, yes, with the blood of the youth,
Who fall like pawns in the cruel chess game.
They boil, they burn, they exude dangerous passion
And fight for what the players stand for.
The players calculate, coldly, with arithmetic accuracy
And on the field, the game unfolds, move by move.
There is no checkmate here, there’re no loopholes.
Brothers send their kin to the Gestapo
And forget their dim identities.
They fall into the moulds prepared for them.
The players sit with square faces across
Round tables and they don’t even mourn.
India burns because of these foolish youth.

C.DEEPESH

DOUBLE GAME

In this game of ping pong,
We play to seek enjoyment
In the vacuous display of
Dislike and defence.
Why is it that we need to defend?
Why, when the game has no end?
We put up bold faces and
Emphasize on symbolic gestures.
Why do we not act, but just pretend?
Why get victimized by
Wicked political games?
Why do flowers look thorny
And thorns sweet?
Why can’t we resign from
This end game?
Cunning and deceit win you the game
And the deserving always lose.
As Darwin said,
The fittest survive and not the best.
Can’t we let go the yearning to hurt?
Can’t we suppress the desire to cheat?


C.DEEPESH

ADMINISTRATORS

They smile when you perform,
With well-worn smiles,
They pat your backs with rehearsed sincerity.
They seem to be thankful.

But when it’s time to be fair,
They hide behind thick-screened silences,
They conveniently forget,
They fear being tagged ‘partial’.

In the planet of cutthroat wolves,
The lambs are taught not to slog.
Those with clout are rewarded,
Deceit and cunning, their qualifiers.

If you play fair, you are down and out,
Rewards are selective punishments
Incentives, instruments of oppression,
Only false pretences win you the day.

C.DEEPESH


STAFF ROOM

Every morning we meet
With smiles and beaming faces
And then begin to gossip,
Entwining ourselves in the rich gossamer
Of irrelevant chatter.
We make loud noises,
Shuffle feet and beat on tables.
We roar, we bleat, we laugh,
We hurl rough words about each other.
Our hearts bleed, we suffer.
We leave with a heaving sigh of relief.
And return yet again with beaming smiles.

C.DEEPESH