Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar Poems

The last wish of the poor mother:
Son, don’t spend to cure my illness.
Reserve it to rear your children.
Let me die as cotyledons do.
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I’m filled when I am recognized;
I’m filled when I am remembered.
I’m filled when I am spoken about.
How poor or starving my ego is!
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Tallness matters;
Fair skin matters;
One’s stock matters.
Prejudice counts in love.
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Be it in gambling, stock market or trade;
Success is due to luck rather than brain.
We beam with a notion that our brain is
The cause of the success that we obtain
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Be considerate with the poor.
Be compassionate with the aged.
Be generous to the needy.
Someday you’ll have been like them.
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A lover may not be a thug
But a thug can be a lover.
A beloved may not be a cheat
But a cheat can be a beloved.
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One is ready to learn
But averse to be taught.
One prefers knowing things
By reading them in prints
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Honeymoon is a stage
Where intimacy is exciting.
Reality check is the next stage
Where want of space is felt.
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They are shopping buddies.
Pleasure of shopping
Without the strain of being together.
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Women of today aren’t women of yesterday.
A somersault has occurred in her way.
She has come out of man’s entanglement,
With her own earnings and own involvement.
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