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I do not know, in any case’ -
What I write is poetry or prose
When in joy or in woe-
Some stream of words in strands flow-
Many I could not -put them in writing-for
Many chores stand in waiting,
Mainly due to want of incentive
Or I am too pensive and see faces too insensitive
Some I jot down in some old diary
But most drain down for I become too weary
a few get a good start-in good perception
but many die or I abort, still in conception
many get, in the process of thought cleanly wiped,
and I am too shy to get the few I write neatly typed.
Hema
krishnan,
Pearls and beads ,in dreams
,running down the drains
From head down the hairs streaming in trains
From hands, down the fingers in strands and strains,
Tryng to collect them feverishly
I hear laughs, sneers, and scoffs : devilishly
'who wants these beads, who needs them' they jeer
that pierce me all over like a spear.
To even suggest that I ever copied
I will deem very spiteful.
This should speak for my works
Hema Krishnan
I do not know, in any
case' -
What I write is poetry or prose
When in joy or in woe-some
stream of words in strands arose-many
I could not -put them in writing-for
Many chores stand in waiting,
Mainly due to want of incentive
Or I am too pensive and see faces too insensitive
Some I jot down in some old diary
But most drain down for I become too weary
a few get a good start-in good perception
but many die or I abort, still in conception
many get, in the process of thoughtcleanly wiped,
and I am too shy to get the few I write neatly typed.
12/30/97Hema krishnan,
Brahmin
Widow
Husbands gone and children grown
Without funds or any bank balance to lean on
Gnawed by the kins -and
Nagged for unknown sins
Woven into a cocoon
Since birth and past nuptial noon
She is easily in tune.
Not knowing the art
of earning
Given only to dreams and yearning
Oh! everything is only 'given'
For which, though, she has always 'striven'
When near and dear doth exploit
She is dared to question or fight
She dare not utter a moan
For the fear that society will groan
To chatter is societies pure delight
But to interfere -is just not right!
When, if the widow or her daughter do abort
They are only taken apart-who cares who took part?
She bears it all with a stoic heart
For she sees no other opening to start
Men of kin promise her protection,
She is too naive to see through their pretension
She nurses and slaves with no apprehension
With cold careful calculation, they make her dependent
When she gets feeble and sick, she is made to feel repentant
If she asks to be freed, they feel reluctant
If she defies she is branded delinquent
For all her services she gets no compliment,
In her old age -no pension, no complement
This is the story of many widows in veil
For all her penances this is what she gets in deal
Do you think I am telling lies!
When I indeed hear lot of hot sighs!
Do you deny such widows at all exist?
When in deep interior villages -and
In the ghats of Benaras and Rishikesh
Doth millions subsist.
Hema krishnan,
Pearls and beads ,in
dreams ,running down the drains
From head down the hairs streaming in trains
From hands, down the fingers in strands and strains,
Tryng to collect them feverishly
I hear laughs, sneers, and scoffs : devilishly
'who wants these beads, who needs them' they jeer
that pierce me all over like a spear.
'you wed -you will be fed'I am told
'I can win my bread 'I hold.
Instantly I get warned 'do not dare get too bold'
' you are safe in the kitchen , but once
out in the world ,it is all only vile and cold
'you are Devi- you are mother' they cajole
in my naivety ,I get thrilled and loll
to be a mother is no bother
but 'only two -not more' is a tether
'then whom do I mother?' I pray
'mother all those imbeciles?
Who refuse to grew up and too facile?'
Oh! you call me 'mother'
And put me in tether
You hoist me on high pedestal
Then hurl me down nether!
You do not care for my pearls
You throw them all in whirls
meAlong in swirls
'mother', you say, 'is respected'?
she is always doubted- suspected.
Something is always expected.
She is always surreptitiously inspected.
Hema krishnan,
'we need your vote'
that is what they dote
'we give you equal rights - lend your mite'
this is what they quote
I cannot bear what I hear
Country for me is very dear
I have much more to share
More potential to spare
I wish to give so much to the Nation
Others vote, in mere deprivation
For millions live in dire privation
They exercise their franchise with no discretion
Mostly chastised they do it in sheer depression
Ram or Ravan makes no difference
Says today's Sita - harassed, without preference
Many do without justification
Many due to some mortification
Meena does as her husband directs
Leena does as her son selects
Anju does in her last minute impulse
And Manju gets something in purse
Some do just to be different- and
Some are just indifferent
To vote, I just cannot see any reason
But fear it will be called treason
If, I had any power,
I would call them all to a tower
I would not ask them to a luncheon
But hand them all - each - a sword or a truncheon
I shall feed them all nothing but gruel
And make one and all; fight each other, a duel
Every one clamour for a chair
Is it not fair if it happens to be an heir
Why women should join the fray?
When the whole of politics has gone astray!
For some time we should ignore
And wait and see what we have in store.
Hema krishnan,
My father
My father was always small- but has
Always managed to hold himself, rather tall
In size though short - when it comes to pride
He would rightly retort
In his forty he was quite naughty
While in fifties he did turn tauty
In his sixties he still looked young
His taste buds were strong beyond his tongue
In his seventies, though blind he was still at ease
At eighty he was still mighty
He is reaching ninety, by god's grace
He is kicking and alive and troubles free
alas! he died the next year
But all in peace and cheer.
Hema krishnan,
An
Indian guru
All his life he had had been cruel to his wife
Never could give her a comfortable life
He sired sons and daughters all in strife
Six and three to make a family tree
Then talked of penance, servility, contentment
All in a saintly spree
There were politicians and paupers
Stars and stuarts, so many followers
To heed his messages
But to his poor wife and children
No one cared to help in stages
The poor woman pleaded and persuaded
With children to be fed and educated
But no one heeded or considered
Hema krishnan,
If you love somebody-will
you bind it in a cage?
I shall not.for, that I would call possessiveness
Will you ask them to sing ;sing your own song?
I shall not.-for,that I would call enslaving
I love birds-but I wouldn't shut them in cages
Nor would I bind them in chains-gold though it may be
I love them flying in the sky freely
I love to see their wings stretched overtly
I love to hear them singing-their own song
Uninhibited music unfolding gently
Since ,this is what I call love
Holding no leash or commitment
Hema krishnan,
I related to my children-many
stories
All good ones-from mythologies and histories
About faith and humility
they heeded with reverence and sincerity
They heard stories from Ramayana
Valour from Mahabharata and leelas of Sri Krishna
When they were getting restless
I filled them up with the wisdom of Nachiketas
'So many gods', children wondered
'And there is this cosmic self!' they exclaimed.
I could not tell them there are many more-
I could only ponder- is it right to tell them!
As many religions there are in this world
As many faiths do prevail, many more gods behold
But I do not want to tell them lest they become
Too cold or too bold too rash, too brash,
The world may come on them too harsh
I feel like being a hypocrite when I myself
Cannot enter a temple without some reservation
I find myself ridiculous but fear persecution
If I do not feast and fast my moral stands scrutinized
I do not want my children to be searched
And live a life curtailed.
Hema krishnan,
Mira! I could have
been you
If, my husband was Rana
I could have been you if my Rana
Took away my Krishna
I could have been Mira- for
I too was in love with Krishna.
But my Rana understood My Krishna
For me- Krishna meant darkness
And my Rana waited patiently
While I wandered into the darkness
He waited for me patiently since
I was lost in the darkness-groping for something.
I dwelved deeper, deeper got the darkness
Deep in the darkness a light glowed bright
Then dawned the truth
A light in the darkness
only in darkness doth light gloweth brighter.
Then.
I took hold of the light and the light showed me
The way back to my Rana-my Krishna
Who waited for me patiently
Now I know I could not become Mira
For my Krishna was my Rana!
Hema krishnan,
friends will be friends
but think whom you befriend
they may give you all the love care and attention
but think of all the tension when too many friends vie for your attention
and you have to smile in all pretension
Alright you have friends
of your own
But befriend their friends too
You have friends all over the town
a friend in need is a
real friend indeed,
but hark! If a friend is always in need
should he be considered indeed?
A little dough can make them friends or foes worth all the thoughts?
Amen! Friends can be real
fun
Even if they were prickly, do not shun
Friends can be really
dear but hark!
Lest you make them your peer.
Hema krishnan,
Designer blouse that breaths
with you
Decent length that elevates you
Perfect seams that cling to you
Respectable all the same admirable
Tight fitting while comfortable
Aimed at the discerning
But affordable for the aspiring
No more unexpected embarrassment
Designer blouses that
take care of such predicament
I may be pruned, I may
be crushed-before I bud
I may still branch out; for-
I am a creative being
I may be kept away
from sunshine
Or kept under shade,
I may yet branch out
as I am a creative person.
I may still branch out like
A Bonsai tree
And may yet attract attention
Eyebrows raised in admiration
Because,
I am just creative.
Hema krishnan,
The
birth
something moved apart, as the cosmos stirred
Hark! Warned the creator "where moveth thee?"
"to be created" uttered me!
"I created only once" the creator sighed and turned to slumber.
The thing became I and then drifted to umber.
How was I born, why was I born
Where did I come who am I?
Do I exist? Where do I fit?
Never had the sense of belonging,
Nor did I strive for the longing.
none too delighted Sibling all strifling
showing no sign of growing
none knew unconditional love
never did they consciously strove
resentment rose in the
clan, oh Brother! My birth I did not scheme
nor mother did plan for she too was too young to hold steam
mother dropped doughnuts, one by one into the oil
hot and sizzling in the pan to boil
slowly did she stir and turn until all nuts were uniformly done
neither first born nor the last one in tune
I grew up too mature too
soon all heeding to her croon
You all escaped to play or bob or job
I stood there to perceive with my little heart in throb
While none of you tried ever to season
Nor did you ever try to reason
Why resent me, assume I was never born.
Like shyamali and lallu already gone.
Hema krishnan.
Family
Secrets
Should there be any secret at all
Mystics avow to certain call
Something esoteric something pall
that terrify one and all
but why secrets when there is nothing to hide
all is well and the law we abide
do we practise hedonism on the sly?
If not, when pried why one should lie?
If secrets are forbidden, why should that be hidden?
The discreet call themselves prudent
and the prude be called indiscreet
the prudent is discreet and the indiscreet is prude!
What has to be hidden should have been forbidden
If forbidden has happened and it is all okay
Why should we lead our children astray?
Why teach them what is right and what is wrong,
When the grown ups are themselves not strong?
What irony! The discreet is set to destitution
and the indiscreet is sent to institution
Hema krishnan,
Orphic!
Woman's body is not esoteric
Nor is it mesmeric
the body it self is not made to lie
every side it is subject to defy
the society gets on the brink when she reaches puberty
when she menstruates there is chaos in the whole dynasty
when she becomes pregnant the body shows
when she gives birth the whole world knows.
If that is her weakness that is her strength
Even for genetic engineering the womb is needed at length!
Hema krishnan,
Positive
thinking
when one has to be a dependent how can one see the positive side?
If you pay for a full glass of milk and you get only half
How con you see the positive side?
What is the meaning of life what is the meaning of happiness
With so many faces smirking at your back,
So many faces sneering at whatever you attempt at
No one to talk to and no one to turn to
Nothing to fall back on, no where to go to
Dependence! Dependence! Dependence!
If one cannot breathe on ones own
How can one think positive?
if one remains a punching bag
for everyone to vent their repressed feelings
what does the punch bag get in the dealings?
when it is torn and cant take anymore
it gets no healing.
Hema krishnan,
With due respect to Yagyavalkya the great sage of Brihadaranyakopanishad.
He -the supreme being,
truly had no delight and was miserably lonely ,
then he split and made a clone. But that was Satan, all wicked, all evil.
Always challenging to do something . and then
He created the beauty, for his own aesthetic satisfaction .
Satan- as always challenging and teasing , created the beast.
The creator ordained the beauty to tame the beast.
Ths devil ordained the beast to corrupt the beauty.
Thus there created themselves , man woman and beast of many genus.
Hence we still carry among ourselves a little bit of beast in all of us.
That is what Meera alluded when she spoke to Swami Ramthirth.
"who is the real man in this world. He alone is the real Man,
imagine yourself as the woman then you too can attain Him"."
Hema krishnan,