The man, the other and the lady 

One day I shall be leaning back
My tired self reclined on the couch
Reading a magazine knowing that
All’s well.. I’ll feel a touch..

A little child nagging on the loose end
Of my scarf.. their little eyes twinkling
I’ll know I’ll have to answer or I’ll hear no end

Not sure if it’s going to be that way
Or I’m going to have to talk
If it’s going to be a tiring day
Or a lazy one I now mock

The question arises
How many kinds of people exist?

For one, I can say good or bad
Or I can educate about a taboo
I can talk of clichéd philosophy
And of genders too.

The answer either way for most..
Is two
And I shall say foremost
This is a bizarre flu

For the right answer is three
A man, the other and a lady


Away In A Hamlet

The chiming bells , the floral scent , pulsing positive vibes echoed around me .

Some entered with folded hands , some with awe gaping at the Hoisala architecture , but mostly mesmerised by the beauty and divinity that emit from the mother and everything around her .

While I rested casually leaning against a cool column, I saw a figure enter from one of the three entrances placed in cardinal directions . The figure ; a boy , barely ten or twelve years old , his shikha swaying in the ashada wind , draped in shalya ; walked so swiftly swishing the umbrella in his hand probably to dry it of any excess water droplets ; proceeded to prostrate before the goddess .

With one swift turn and before I realized he had completed paying his obeisance around the circum-ambulatory path and with a final bow to the goddess he strode out of the sanctum through the opposite exit.

I watched all that in silence , not aware of my own racing thoughts , enveloped in awe and admiration .

Perhaps a couple minutes passed and then through the same entrance as the boy had entered , like a swarm of bees , students , their attire very much like the boy’s breezed in.

I was still frozen at the same spot and suddenly it occurred to me that , these students , from veda-pathashaala have been the harbingers of an age old legacy , mastering knowledge rooted to our country ; that would probably be lost knowledge if it weren’t for them.


Their place of dwelling and study situated in a secluded place unknown to many , where they practised a disciplined life of a brahmin.

I had come to realise that my wildest dream to be in a place of fantasy , something out of a book had come true .

It is rather astonishing that I could gather words to describe heaven to this extent . For the feeling of peace and tranquillity of Sringeri can hardly be put to words but can only be felt and experienced .


*I understand Sringeri is no longer a hamlet but a thriving town . However , the word hamlet is used only to title the descriptive paragraph *