Nandhagopal Ramachandiran

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He taught me how
to sow in the arable land of sweet words
the seeds of charity
to remove the weeds of harsh words
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Dream of a world free of germs
and forget all the infectious terms;
no need, perhaps, to wipe the nose;
no more shots of the vaccine dose;
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He taught me how to toil hard
in the intense hot summer
or chilling shivering winter
churning his efforts into building
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I set out my palette of thoughts
in passionate red, in warm orange,
in cheerful yellow, in angry green,
in sorrowful blue, in calm indigo
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Oh, my God! How can I reach you?
You are in high altitude;
Altitude, I try to climb up,
Up and up, losing my track;
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The inner pot agitates
As the cooker whistles thrice
Then for the fourth, fifth, sixth and nth times
Forgetting that the stove is on
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The pebble of exam is making waves
When dropped into the knowledge well
Let me not be a frog in the well,
While the water of wisdom rapidly swell(s)
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The darkness looms,
enforcing the call within
for the bright wise light.
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As a child clasping Mother Nature's arm,
I sat on the pristine shore
and was free to build a castle of sand.
When I turned,
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While the science of medicine is an art in a sense
the art of medicine is not merely science
that weighs the human as systems and tissues
But as a human with a heart, soul and mind
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Lonely I went to the public garden
To ease my loads of daily burden.
The birds at once sang a song
That did not last quite a long (time) .
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My Son,

At a tender age, if you truly heed
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Give me a pair of wings to fly
Like the birds
That criss-cross the globe
Without any passport
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My pride fell down and broke its crown
And my head turned lighter thereafter;
My mind sat down and shed the frown
And my thoughts shone wiser thereafter;
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Tap, tap, tap
When my son taps the tablet screen
I am lost in thought for a generation
From the days of stone carvings and seals
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I am struck in my train of thoughts
As I depart with my rhythm and pace
In the sky, the lightning strikes out of blue
And then disappears into the dark
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As the war clouds settle down and the storm stops rising, we sleep in peace on the lap of the Earth.
At the dawn of wisdom, we could hear the wake-up call and view the dance that sets our life rolling:
the heart beats in harmony to keep the blood flowing, to perfuse the organs in tune with their needs;
day and night, the brain generates the nerve impulse that prepares the rhythm for the concert;
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My son,

Give some space for words to breathe, for the task (of breathing) reigns as supreme as circulation;
when the space is a constraint in the speeding world, let words pause and breathe;
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