Inviting guest blogs! 

I’m on the verge of quitting once again and of course the reasons are anew this time and I still couldn’t let go of my ripples..

If any one is interested in helping me get through another phase of mundane posts, or just feeling generous to write at Ripples, or anyone for any other reason willing to do so, feel free to drop a mail of the post you would like to publish here at aadhirai@live.co.uk

Already published posts are also welcome. Just send across the link of the same.

The beginning

புரிகின்ற தருணத்தில்
தொலைகின்ற காதலாய்
உணர்கின்ற பருவத்தில்
இழந்திடும் பாசமாய்
பார்க்கின்ற நொடியினில்
மறைகின்ற கானலாய்
தொடுகின்ற சமயத்தில்
நெடுகின்ற வானமாய்
பொழிகின்ற வேளையில்
கலைகின்ற மேகமாய்
என் தேடல்களின் முடிவுமே
இன்னொரு தொடக்கமாய்

The love lost
At the moment of understanding;
The parted affection
At the moment of realisation;
The missing mirage
At the moment of looking at it;
The extending horizon
At the moment of almost reaching it;
The dissolving clouds
At the moment of almost drizzle;
Signifies that my end is not an end
But the beginning of the next new adventure!

The Tamil version is written by Mr. Sudalai on his blog over here -> ​தொடக்கம் – http://wp.me/p7RIiY-s

An educative encounter

“What games did you play at school today?” I asked (in Tamil) the sixth standard boy from our neighbouring farm, situated across the river. He goes to a government high school in the next village. He comes over to our place, often, with his younger sister, who is in fourth standard. They are vibrant children, bustling with activity, helping us with planting saplings and watering them, even on days when we couldn’t visit the farm. Our daughter’s first friends at the village.“We didn’t have any PT period today,” he replied glumly.

“Oh, tell me what games did you play during the class hours?”
“I don’t play any games inside the class…I listen to the teachers”

That made my next question, which was the original intention anyway, easier to shoot.
“So, what did you study at school today?”
“An English poem,” he answered.
“I love poetry. Whose poem was it?”
“…”
“Do you remember any line from the poem?”
“No, I have to see the text book,” the boy was getting jittery.
“Ok , tell me any one word from the poem,” I persisted for a bit more.
“…”
“Do you know what the poem was about?”
“…,” the whiteness of his two large front upper teeth flashed through the uncomfortable smile.
“Does your teacher explain the poem in English or Tamil?”
“English”
I was surprised.
“Do you understand English?”
“No,” the answer came promptly.
“Get me your book tomorrow. I will teach the poem in Tamil.”
He seemed happy.
“Did you read the book that I gave you? Did you understand the stories?” We had presented him with a Tamil story book for his ear-piercing ceremony, held last week.
“Yes,” he cheered up.

Now, his sister chipped in, with some strange actions with her hands:”We didn’t have our regular classes today. They taught us words s*ell.”

I heard it as smell. It didn’t make sense, obviously.
“ka-a-tch. Catch,” she droned with the typical phonics sounds. Oh, she meant ‘spell’.
“Did they teach you spelling? How do you spell catch?”
“C-A-T”
I spent sometime guiding her through “t’, ‘tch’ and ‘catch’.
“Anna, what is the meaning of ‘little’?” she spurted out suddenly.
“Little means ‘kutty’.”
“Kutty?”
“Yes. Can you now tell me what is the meaning of little girl?”
“Girl.”
“No, little girl.”
“….”
“Little means kutty. Girl means ponnu. What does a ‘little girl’ mean? You just have to join the two words,” I repeated in a variety of ways to no avail. Her brother also didn’t have an answer.

“Don’t be shy. Tell the answer boldly,” their father said. He is unlettered but has an extensive knowledge about farming. He is the village priest at a local temple and tills the temple lands. When I had asked him, a couple of hours earlier, if he intended to continue with the education of his children, he had replied in a firm affirmative. I looked at him hopefully.

“Payyannu sollumaa (Say, it is a boy),” he said, feigning confidence.

“No, no. Little girl means kutti ponnu. Now tell me, what does a ‘little boy’ mean?”

After a few more errors, they arrived at kutti paiyan. Then we moved on to little dog, little cat. Finally, they seemed to have got a hang of little-something and rushed happily across the river – dry but for a small stream, overflowing from the check dam.

Thankfully, both these kids are still studying in Tamil medium. I shudder to think of the day when their schools will also be converted to English medium. English is certainly compounding the problems but the problem is not merely with English. We are faced with an entire educational system that alienates the rural children from their surroundings and knowledge systems. More needs to be written on this (and done about this).

But, for now, we, the English speaking elite, can go on belaboring about how we want our kids to compete with these children on a so-called ‘equal footing’ in a ‘meritocratic system’.

 Shared from https://tkan.wordpress.com/2016/05/31/the-road-to-hell-is-paved-with-felled-trees/

My Words – Are they really mine?

When words were never mine to begin with.  I was only their carrier upon transport- both serving time together- holding some- mere milliseconds- while others cellmates serving a life sentence.  Each letter and word- wound within my dna- and- transcribed by my process of knowing- has arrived from the hands of someone else.

Who am I to say- I own these words?

Yes- they may empower- even set you free- but to own them- is to put them in a zoo.  To cut out their lungs- give them hugs for legs- and tell them to run- then send them on their way to have a nice life- and a breath of fresh air- from the inside- out.

If I copyright words- Van Gogh copyrights Starry Nights- Aristotle copyrights thought- Harper Lee and  Maya Angelou know why the caged mockingbird can’t sing- if their teachers own all the words.  Does Shakespeare care if Hamlet is performed at the Globe – a renowned performing arts high school in New York- or the streets of El Salvador?  Or is it about sharing in our words- living through his words- copy what was- homage to the author.

And…

What if my thought- was first a song lyric written on the back of a napkin- tossed aside- blurred- by someone who was playing the drinking game.  Was my thought already prefabricated- plain as day- in the light of moon- beyond the wonder of a five year old Nigerian girl.  Or in the dreams of an addict to spun to remember what was said- when morning is four days later- and still hasn’t come.  Maybe it was the taxi driver in Karachi who first said, “poets can be any color- they just want to be read…” way before it entered my head.  He just didn’t have access to a pen- or- when he got home- had trouble remembering again.

Or…

Maybe this was all confiscated- stolen- copy unwritten- from a man who has ALS. Everyone baby talks- the man- like a toddler- and pats him on the head.  Like sticking a finger in the soup to see if it is warm.  Somewhere he is reading my words- his words- unspoken- on a screen- screaming so loud.  But no one gives a fuck- because they think he doesn’t have words.  These are my copyrighted- hijacked- borrowed from another source- all the source- is the same source- words- just a different kind of sauce.

Understanding- I only carry these words- all thoughts that have been conjured- inflicted- and finely tuned- have come from the fingers- tongues- brushstrokes- madness of others. Screamed in splinters- whispered in born against- washed into the sand’s stone- are all words- for consideration.

My search in writing- is for a comfort- for the words- and the people to be as free as possible.  Knowing- nothing is free- especially as a Dad- to three- all girls.

What about the tree- when were they going to see a royalty- for all the copies they have written?

Like a tree roots in- I am rooted in my children.  For them- and my family- I have to remain a true artist- a true contradiction- like any human- that varies on a multitude of spectrums.  To a take stand- show my copy rights as author and carrier of words- would only be for them- so their walk is a little lighter.

Their Father’s hands which have borne the scars and marked calluses of time- that comes when the sun shines so bright in life- you have to squint- and trust that you’re walking- but- not off the edge- because you can still feel the sun radiating through your face- and trust can be easier- when you can’t see in the first place.

I will chase- these words all copied from the same source- just a different sauce- tasting- and holding on to what I can- understanding what was already written…


This is a post written by Anthony in his blog “Symbols between Spacebars” under the title Do I have a right to copyright words- call them mine?

Another beginning!

A new day,
A new month,
A new quarter,
A new challenge!

Is this challenge really that new to me?
If the experience of three months of daily posting is any good, Nope, this is not a new challenge to me!

So what is beginning today?
The famous A to Z Challenge!

What is the Challenge about?
I still continue to post in my blog in my own style, but be careful in naming the posts. I need to use the letters A to Z serially, to start off my title everyday. So day 1 starts with A, day 2 with B and so on.. And they let me take a break on Sundays!

There was a specific day to reveal my theme for the month. But I didn’t get around to post that, earlier. So I am telling about my theme here.

The blog loosely follows a pattern for the past three months. Though I will try to stick to the same theme, it might be changed as I come up with other ideas (or lack of them.. ;))

The theme that is being followed is listed here!

  • Sunday Stories – He-She Story / Poetry
  • Musical Monday – My translation of one of my favourite Tamil track into English Poetry with my rambles on why or what I like the most in that track.
  • TTT / Tiny Thought Tuesday – My Entry for Dr. H. Bhatnagar’s Two-Phrase story Challenge. (Where I am supposed to add just one more phrase to the given phrase of the week, though, I usually end up adding more, just like what I am doing right here.)
  • Wordless Wednesday – My Entry for PhoTraBlogger’s Mundane Monday Challenge (I will really try to shut up with words and let my picture speak in this post.)
  • Thirukural / Thoughtful / Throwback Thursday – Depending on time and thoughts cluttering my mind, one of them would be chosen, with a very high probability to Thirukural.
  • Friendly Friday – The day to reblog a post of a friend or reach out to my followers like what I am doing with this post.
  • Saturday – I have been translating the works of a great Tamil poet, who happens to be my most favourite, Subramaniya Bharathiyaar. (So I would be availing my weekly off on Saturdays rather than Sundays in the A to Z Challenge)

So now you know what to expect from my blog in the upcoming month. Now moving on to what could be expected from me..
I am working on a tight schedule in the recent few months. So I would definitely reply to the comments I receive, within few hours, but I am not committing to be a good reader, as I used to be. ( I still wonder how could I read every single post in my reader once, and where did that time vanish into.. If that time has crossed over there, please feel free to direct it back to me.. 😉 )

Seems I am all set to move forward.. And now is the time for you to hop around the pages and posts..

See you around!

Keep Smiling!!

As Close as it Comes!

Isn’t it enough that I let you see
Isn’t it enough that that I have let you see me bleed
As long as I allow you to share

Isn’t it enough for you to just care
I will not ask you to dwell inside my life’s shell
Nor ask you to share my personal hell

It is mine and mine alone
Perhaps the only thing I possess
The only thing that I own.

Isn’t it enough that I bare my soul
Isn’t it enough that you know I’m not whole
As long as I trust you enough to let you see me

Isn’t that enough for you to let me be me
I can not allow anyone else to live in my shell
Nor allow any to share my personal hell

It is mine and mine alone
Perhaps its the only thing I possess
That No one  can lay a claim on

Isn’t it enough that I see your needs
Isn’t it enough that I see your deeds
Isn’t it enough to show you I care

Without crawling in and sharing your lair
One we are
One we will be

It is the only thing we own
Let it be enough that I allow you inside to see
How I decorate my own home


This is another re-blog post. I re-blog when I like the thought and the way it is presented. But this re-blog is purely for the following reason – The moment I read, I started wondering why didn’t I write out this thought.. But I wonder whether I could ever write it this good. Hence, instead of using it as inspiration, here is the same post..

I should be mentioning the author right.. The author is my longest follower and my initial followers are only through him. He keeps wondering why in his blog, and I keep wondering why am I blessed with such good people. Must be some good deed I have inadvertently done in the past.. 😉

I would be requiring more than a footnote to describe this oxymoronic-sharp-witted brother of mine, William. I would rather suggest that you follow him and ponder over his thought-provoking posts.. 🙂

(I have taken the liberty to format the post as I would like to see it Bro.. Sorry if it is not to your liking)

Autobiography of a Plagiarist

Disclaimer – This blog post is a work of fiction.

Some say truth triumphs! I had never experienced it until last winter! This change cleansed me and transformed me into a good individual. Some say that there is no difference between people who steal others things  and those who snatch others ideas. I had been doing that for my material gains.  Google turned out to be my best friend for it provided me everything that I desired. Being a blogger and an amateur writer, my mind constantly required to produce and reproduce several ideas. Most of the blogging sites that came up with  different blogging contests often came up with attractive and lucrative prizes  – iPad, iPhone, Kindle, Mac Books and various electronic gadgets. I seemed to have been blinded and smitten  by these prizes that I resort to snatching ideas.

5th November 2013 – was the day when blogger.com came up with a PAN level blogger contest. The winner of that contest was to be awarded an iPhone. ‘Human Heart Vs Human Brain – Measuring conflicts. What does the heart say when the brain says no?’ It was a  topic that had to be dealt with utmost sensitivity. I usually suck at writing such articles.  The prizes attracted my eyeballs. Gluttony hurts, it  kills!

I started thinking over the topic and my brain couldn’t conceive constructive ideas relevant to the theme of the contest. I was disappointed at the fact that I was turning creativity handicap. It was indeed challenging. Any writer wouldn’t succumb to an act that I did! I typed – Heart Vs Brain on the Google Search bar and I received numerous web links. I went through the websites one by one and accumulated points.  I jotted down the points and tried to put it on my own words.  While exploring few of those websites, my eyes grabbed the attention of a blog written by an American Teenager – Brenda Anderson.

“Heart is symbolic of emotions, feelings; attachments. It has its own reasoning which the mind may not approve of, probably because it lacks the evidence or arguments that prove it to be right. But has an understanding that assures it of not being wrong.
At times, the high EQ (emotional quotient) may overshadow the strong IQ.
The reason for it is simple when faced with a situation; our heart pulls us to one direction and the mind to the other. We don’t know which way to go this gives rise to a conflict that interferes with our ability to think rationally. There is no direction, just a dead point. We feel lost and our mind stops working, stops thinking and then we become totally dependent on what our heart tells us, after all, it’s our last resort.”

This was something that I was looking for! Spot it! I copied the entire post on my document and started working on it. I meticulously made good use of the thesaurus and changed meanings of certain complex words. I made its vocabulary easy to understand. I optimized it for an Indian audience.  The deadline for the blogger contest was approaching. Brenda Anderson was indeed a blessed girl. I explored her blog and it was the repository of literature work. Her works dealt with the highest level of art and literature. I envied her for some reason. She would have won several blogger contests if she were in India. Perhaps, at that moment, I never felt guilty publishing someone else’s article under my name and that too under PAN India level. I was feeling jubilant when I posted the link to the blogger page. I was quite sure that I would win. I had no traces of guilt in my heart. Weeks passed and even months!  The contest results were about to be announced.  Many people had appreciated that article that I had lifted from Brenda Anderson’s blog and no one had even the slightest doubt that it was a stolen one. I had received over 100 comments for that single blog post. People enjoyed reading it and they had scribbled genuine comments for that. It did make me smile!

But that night, I couldn’t sleep peacefully. My conscience knocked me hard to make me feel that I had done the biggest mistake of my life. It indicated me that this was a big shame. How could a person fall down to this level? It wanted to correct my mistake. I contemplated and thought over my act! But it seemed that the results were already announced. I was declared as the winner. I was entitled to get an iPhone. I was feeling guilty and my greed for material products had to be reprimanded. I was feeling low and disappointed.  Finally, I listened to what my heart said to me and contacted the organizers. I spilled the beans! I informed them that I had lifted the article from an American girl’s blog and modified it as per my needs. But that was an honest confession. I had tears in my eyes when I spoke all that to the organizers. The organizers discussed and decided to go with the results as announced. They had awarded me the prize for my honesty. I could have simply opted to conceal the truth, but my conscience didn’t let me sleep peacefully. For years to come, my heart would have been heavy with the guilt that would often remind me of the scar that it had left! But I acknowledged my conscience by doing something that it desired.  But it would have been inappropriate if I had accepted the prize. The organizers didn’t budge and I had to accept the prize.

Image is taken from here 

All the 100 plus comments that the blog post received belonged to that girl. It was the efforts of that American girl who deserved so many appreciations. I had just been a channel. I quickly added the link of her post to my blog post and added a line that my post had been inspired from Brenda’s blog post.

I quickly inspected her blog for her contact details. “You may want to let me know how you feel about my blog posts 🙂 How?  Write me at brenda.anderson7@live.com” It was mentioned at the right sidebar of the blog.

“Dear Brenda,

You might be wondering who this is. I would like to call myself as the greatest fan of Miss Brenda Anderson. Yes, I am a huge fan of your writing. I bumped across your blog through Google and I’m glad that I found it. Your articles have touched me deep! I would like to say something important. Last month I took part in a PAN India level contest and I had won it.  Please don’t get me wrong when I say that I had stolen ideas and points from your blog. I had lifted it. I’m feeling ashamed because of my act. Check this link – virtualstroller.blogspot.com/heartvsmind. All the comments on this blog post are meant for you.  Kindly forgive me. Please provide me your address.

Yours Truly,
Sankit”

I waited for her reply. Finally, two days later she replied me.

“Dear Sankit,

I’m so happy that you won the blogging contest. I’m indeed very happy for you. Thank you for all the kind words in the last email. That was sweet of you :). You don’t need to be sorry. You had taken my blog post and I’m glad you won it. It was nice going through the various comments in the blog post in the link that you had sent me. You are a nice soul, Sankit! Please do not say that you had stolen my blog post. : )  I have blog rolled you and consider me as a regular reader of your blog. You too do the same and yes whenever you read my post do leave some nice comments 😛 And my address is –

2411, Andersons Avenue, AV, Green Park, GA, Atlanta 30301, USA

Stay in touch, Sankit! Xoxox

Take Care,
Brenda ”

I was so happy to read all that. I quickly parceled the iPhone to her. I was not the right owner to that Apple product.  Initially, she refused to accept it. But after insisting she accepted it. We soon turned out to be good friends.  Yes, Truth indeed Triumphs! Sometimes you just need to be true to yourself. Sometimes you just need to listen to your heart. It’s an offense to steal others creativity!

————————————————————–

Friends, many times we knock Google’s door for ideas when our brain refuses to produce adequate necessary desired ideas. I feel disheartened to see and hear such things. My heart hurts when I read my blogger friends writing statuses on Facebook citing their plagiarized blog posts. Trust me that it is something that hurts any blogger. Who would like their blog post to be snatched? Remember that a plagiarist is no different than a thief. The difference is that a plagiarist steals others ideas while a thief steals products.  A plagiarist could steal someone’s blog post, but they can never steal someone’s creativity! Dear Plagiarists – Please do not hurt creative souls here. Your conscience will hurt you and you would live a life of guilt! If you go on to get inspired by someone’s work then do let the article owner know about this and you could link their blog post to yours. That would be a kind gesture. While using an image from Google, do give credits to the  image owner. This blog post might be a work of fiction, but this might be true for many of you out here! Stay blessed my creative people!


There are two ways to present a thought of others. You could get inspired and just spin the thought in your own unique wrap and present it to others. Or just share the post as is, just like I am doing here! This is a post written by my friend Stephen in his blog The Solitary Writer. He has been blogging for the past decade on various topics. His range of writings include fiction, political satire, Cricket Commentary, Social Issues, Reviews and many more. Do check out his blog for a perfect potpourri and you would surely find something to your taste, irrespective of your taste.

Pillaiyar And Peter Jones

Kalaiselvan and Peter Jones were studying together in the same class since first standard. So when they shifted Peter Jones to another section of fifth standard, Kalaiselvan couldn’t stop his crying and he cried so hard and got himself sick.

Peter consoled Kalai, saying that, though we are in different sections, we are still in same school and so we could still go and come back from school together. Yet, Peter felt something amiss when he had to go to school alone on that day.

A small void. A tiny inconvenience. Peter felt as if he forgot something. So he stopped on the way, by a neem tree and checked his bag. His maths note, geometry box and everything else was in his bag. The only thing missing was his friend Kalai. He resumed walking with his bag till he reached the temple pond.

He stopped at the temple pond for some reason. That’s where his friend Kalai performs his morning prayer ritual of Thoppukaranam (Sit ups as a form of prayer) before the statute of the big bellied Elephant Lord Pillaiyaar. Peter dropped his bag nearby and went to kneel down before Pillaiyaar.

Shenbagam, who was fetching water from the pond noticed this and gently smiled. She said, ‘Dear Peter, this is not Christ, this is Pillaiyaar. Here the form of prayer is with Thoppukaranam and not by kneeling down.’ Peter hadn’t noticed her till then. But he just threw a glimpse at her and continued looking at the statute.

He said sternly that, he hasn’t come here to pray, as he opened his lunch box. He slowly opened it with bit of struggle and took few grains of rice from the lunch and kept it near the small ant hills next to the statute of Pillaiyaar.

Peter continued saying to her, ‘Kalai keeps food daily for these ants. If he doesn’t keep, the ants will be hungry right? To keep food for them only I came here.’

In the next few seconds, neither Peter, who had been walking back gloriously, covering all the void, nor Shenbagam, who had gone speechless and stood like a statute with his reply, or even the ants, which were busily dragging the grains to their homes, did not notice, that the statute of Pillaiyaar was kneeling down in the sand there!


பிள்ளையாரும் பீட்டர் ஜோன்சும்…

ஒன்றாம் வகுப்பிலிருந்து ஒன்றாகவே படித்த உயிர்த்தோழன் பீட்டர் ஜோன்சை தன்னிடமிருந்து பிரித்து ஐந்தாம் வகுப்பு ‘B’ செக்‌ஷனில் போட்டுவிட்டதைச் சொல்லி அழுது அழுது காய்ச்சலே வந்துவிட்டது கலைச்செல்வனுக்கு.”செக்‌ஷன் மாத்திட்டாங்கதான் ஆனாலும் நாம சேர்ந்தே தானே ஸ்கூலுக்கு போகப்போறோம் ? மறுபடியும் வீட்டுக்கு வரும்போதும் சேர்ந்தே வருவோம்” என்று சிரித்துக்கொண்டே சொன்ன பீட்டருக்கும் இன்று தனியாக நடந்து பள்ளிக்கூடம் செல்வது கொஞ்சம் வருத்தமாகவே இருந்தது, ஏதோ ஒரு வெற்றிடம்,மனதிற்குள் ஒரு சின்ன உறுத்தல்.எதையோ மறந்துவிட்டதைப்போன்ற ஒரு உள்ளுணர்வு.பக்கத்து வேப்பமரத்தடியில் பையை இறக்கி வைத்து கணக்கு நோட்டு,ஜாமெண்டரி பாக்ஸ் எல்லாவற்றையும் எடுத்தாகிவிட்டதா என்று சரிபார்த்தான் பீட்டர், எல்லாமே இருந்தது இல்லாதது அவன் நண்பன் கலை மட்டும்தான்.மீண்டும் பையை மாட்டிக்கொண்டு நடக்க ஆரம்பித்தவன் ஏனோ அந்த கோவில் குளத்தைக் கடக்காமல் நின்றுவிட்டான்.

அங்கே தினமும் கலைச்செல்வன் தோப்புக்கரணம் போட்டு கும்பிடும் தொப்பை கணபதி சிலைவரை வேகமாக ஓடிப்போய் பையை கழற்றிவைத்துவிட்டு மரத்தடி பிள்ளையார் சிலைக்கு முன் முட்டி போட்டுக்கொண்டான்.இதை பார்த்ததும் கோவில் குளத்தில் தண்ணீர் எடுத்துக்கொண்டிருந்த செண்பகம் மாமிக்கு இதழோரமாய் கசிந்தது ஒரு சின்ன புன்னகை“ஏண்டாப்பா பீட்டர் இது கர்த்தர் சிலை இல்லடா கணபதி சிலை,இங்க் தோப்புக்கரணம்தான் போடணும் முட்டி போட்டு கும்பிட வேண்டாம் ” என்றார் மாமி.அவரை அதுவரை கவனிக்காத பீட்டர் இப்பொழுதுதான் கவனித்தான் ஆனாலும் ஒரு நொடியில் மீண்டும் சிலையை நோக்கி திரும்பிக்கொண்டான்.வேகமாக தன் சாப்பாட்டுக்கூடைக்குள் கையை விட்டு துழாவிக்கொண்டே “நான் இங்க ப்ரேயர் பண்ண வரல” என்று தீர்க்கமாக சொன்னவன் டிபன் பாக்சை வெளியிலெடுத்து மெதுவாக தன் பல் இடுக்கில் வைத்து நெம்பி அதிலிருந்து சில பருக்கைகளைக் கையிலெடுத்து அந்த பிள்ளையார் சிலையைச் சுற்றி இருந்த சின்னச் சின்ன எறும்புப் புற்றுகளுக்கு முன் வைத்துவிட்டு மீண்டும் மாமியிடம் சொன்னான் “கலை இங்க தினமும் சாப்பாடு வைப்பான், இன்னைக்கு வைக்காம விட்டா எறும்பு பாவம்தான? பசிக்குமே,..அதுக்குதான் வந்தேன்”.அடுத்த ஐந்தாவது நொடி வெற்றிடங்களையெல்லாம் நிறப்பிக்கொண்டவனாய் எழுந்து நடந்துகொண்டிருந்த பீட்டரோ ,என்ன சொல்வதென்று தெரியாமல் குடத்தோடு குளத்தருகில் சிலையாகிப்போன மாமியோ,அவ்வளவு ஏன் ஒரு சோற்றுப்பருக்கையை கூட்டுக்குள் இழுக்க பிரம்ம ப்ரயத்தனப்பட்டுக் கொண்டிருந்த அந்த எறும்போ கூட கவனிக்கவே இல்லை இப்பொழுது மண் திட்டின் மேல் முட்டி போட்டிருந்த அந்த பிள்ளையார் சிலையை !


This is a story written by my friend Kavi Ilaval Tamil and posted as Facebook Update. He writes amazing Tamil verses and has a published book “Yaathumaagi ninren” to his credit.

I liked the story and I couldn’t resist sharing it. Hope you too enjoyed the story. Do post your views in the comments.

Seasons.

Seasons.

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“Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.

Foamy Flakes,

Frost over Blue lakes.

Mittens and Flannels,

Icicles on window panels.

Thermos teemed with hot chocolate,

As winter glossed the nature’s slate.

 

Blush Blooms,

Dew over grass looms.

Kites and merry lights,

Bright moon nights.

Jars jammed with cherry marmalade,

As spring glossed the nature’s slate.

 

Scorching Sun,

Dandelions over green lawn.

Glow worms and fire flies,

Sun- kissed skies.

Bottles of sweet lemonades,

As summer glossed the nature’s slate.

 

Tanned Turf,

Leaf-strewn over soil base.

Red landscapes and cobwebs,

Gloom going with the ebbs.

Fluffs of cotton candy mates,

As autumn glossed the nature’s slate.


The contrast of seasons stringed into harmony by a cute Glass-wearing-Cheshire-cat-grinning-little-nerdy doll named as Adhithya and called as Adhi with a ‘h’.. 😀

She writes so beautifully and she is indeed a very nice person to have a cool chit chat and would be a great friend.. Just make sure she reaches back earth after she reaches her cloud nine, so we all can have the warmth Adhithya’s (The name means Sun) sunshine..

Now go follow Adhi, drop few comments and enjoy this sunshine’s cute rays.. 🙂

What sweeps you off your feet?

I have intended to write a cool big story (That’s what I think about it) for today’s post. But I got way distracted from my routine for the past few hours..

I was swept off the floor / transported to an alter world / something otherworldly (Hope you get the drift now?!) by this certain something.. What I am telling is, I have forgotten to eat, sleep and even drink water.. I was deaf and dumb to the happenings around me..

Have you ever been mesmerised so completely with anything? If not, I could bore you with more adventurous words and exclamatory statements of my awe!!

But since this special thing has got me hooked way too much, I just dropped in to let y’all know, I am still sane and haven’t forgotten y’all totally.. 😉

They say that if you do something for a continuous 21 days it becomes a habit.. Guess, that’s true.. 😉 What else could have dragged me back to surface to key in few words to you!

And depending on your liking of my writing, you are saved for the day or just miss my not-so-funny-at-times-coz-it-is-ought-to-be-taken-seriously post or just be content with this ramble.. 😉

Now it is time for feedback.. Few of you have been dropping by every single day and hitting the like and few words to say what you think.. Thanks to you for really following my posts.. 😀 Now, be kind and tell me what I am good at and where I could improve.. I am awaiting to see your replies this time.. And please don’t feel shy at all to criticise away my narcissism or boost my ego by praising my awesomeness.. 😉

Fine, now my love is inviting me back and am going back to this new found bestie-love of “Windows 10” combined with “Office 365”.. It is just way too awesome..

And if you are not feeling like praising me (or criticising me) just drop in to say what is that mesmerises you and keeps you hooked up from your routine.. I love to know about (especially) the crazy ones too..

C’mon type away at least the grin or frown that crossed your face while you read through this ramble.. (Nah, I am not desperate for comments.. I just want to know your view! [Hope that’s a good excuse.. 😉 ] ) Please do type a smiley that reflects your current mood at least please.. 😉 [I repeat I am not desperate for your comments.. 😛 Thanks for not believing that.. 😉]