Saturday, 22 December 2012

After a long time

That's how I'd put it. In my last few posts, I would have written that I felt this, I was reminded of this, etc etc. But how do you put that phrase? Ah yes, the in rush of the nostalgic memories. I really felt it violently assailing my head as I stood and prayed in the family temple which I used to regularly go from my more innocent days. Here's my another hopefully-good attempt at poetry about it.

Enter and behold
the sanctity and power of Thy presence
I look around and feel the hopes
and prayers pouring
from devout Hindus near and far from Thee.
Sparkling and bedecked in jewels,
dazzling in splendor of the glowing lamps of oil,
Thy form leaves me in awe
gasping for words, struggling for breath
as I enter, with hands together
and bowed head, Thank you.
For everything Thy blessed me with.

Waves of nostalgia try to sweep me
away from my pleas for forgiveness.

Taken from Google Images
One mischevous eyelid now open, I glance around.
So innocent were the yester years,
so playful was my former self
hoping to find the girl of my dreams here,
hoping to get a glimpse of Thee during crowded festivals,
hoping to always be in Thy good books.
Why did I change? I ask Thee.
I dont hear Thy voice
in my innermost conscience. Sigh.

All my successes are credited to Thee.
Mistake alone is mine,
when my action is bereft of the thought of Thee.
And that will be the day of my downfall.
Nay, I humbly prostrate
renouncing my possesions here and now.
I leave the temple with a lighter heart
asking for pardon.
Living in your shadow, Thy will, I pray,
take me soon with you,
to the higher regions of glory and silence.
And I will wait for Thee forever,
with bowed head and folded arms.

Come what may. Festivals, calamities, celebrations. mishaps. His blessings are the sole gifts that we need. Rest is secondary and immaterial. Once we are in His line of sight, we can have a sigh of relief. Because these days, that's what matters. Faith. I wish all my readers a very happy, prosperous, healthy, wealthy and a peaceful New Year 2013.

This is also a poem for the Prompt inspire by dVersePoets : The Poetics of Presents

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Karma is a bitch -2

This story's first part can be found right here

Six nights later.

Jeff switched the channels on the T.V. with no particular interest. He was getting married tomorrow. Everything was taken care of by his buddies. Harry had managed to stay sober throughout the preparations, which was an achievement, for he seldom stayed sober when he was on a drinking spree. Pollock and the rest took care of inviting the families and the guests. Neal made sure Jeff wasn’t involved in the process. Darlings, he thought fondly.

But one thing still nagged him. Kay.

He never saw her again in the bar. Jeff often found himself with a beer every night at the Anstruthers, hoping to find her, staring lustfully at him, teasing him. His manhood often stirred at the  very thought.

Jeff couldn’t stop thinking about her. She haunted him in his dreams, often waking Jeff up, sweating and alarmed. He remained puzzled as to why he wanted to give his address on that day. It was as if he was told to give it by himself.

The clock struck 9. Jeff was bored. He switched the T.V. off and decided to retire for the night. He changed into his nightclothes and was just about to climb on his bed when he heard a knock on his door.

“Neal”, muttered Jeff, “probably wanting to check if I’m alright.”

He staggered back surprised when he saw who it was. Kay.

Friday, 30 November 2012

"Another walk 1" - Modified and Erased!

This is my first attempt at Erasure poetry, a very different and a unique form, the meaning of which can be found at THIS page.

This piece is for the prompt at DVerse Poets. It is an erasure of another article of mine which can be found here It was not an easy task, that too erasing my own article. But something sensible came out of it which you are going to read below.

Sighing, I got walking about in the road,
shopkeepers wink, always pointing out.

Wow, what an evening!
My blood surging with the winds of the sky.

The sights of a busy evening, honking traffic,
I found myself absorbed
in my own thoughts.

I blinked, looked around and smiled.
Someone was waiting home for my arrival.


Wednesday, 14 November 2012


This was so random. I was looking up for an assignment in Google when I realized I wanted to make something out of thin air, feel it and yet be meaningful. After 3 minutes of thought and effort, Et Voila! Here it goes:

Amidst all the chaos and confusion within
love thy self that blooms within.
Watch him jump in leaps and bounds
in time, with joy indescribable sans bounds.
Give him some love, give him some seeds,
        his trees will reap plentiful and generous, so will his deeds   
    Grow (around the earth) through love they will, his kith and kin
simply, love thy self that blooms within  

Friday, 2 November 2012


This one is for everyone.

“Nowadays, communication has progressed to such a level that every single word is shortened to each individual’s likeable wish. For example, two is written as 2, someone as sum1 and so on.

See boys, how many of you have the habit of writing letters???”

Numb silence and blank expressions replaced the dull sleepy looks on the faces of my fellowmates in the Verbal class.

“In those days, we used to write a lot and that gave us immense satisfaction.”

I looked around. Not many were paying attention. 

Friday, 19 October 2012

Karma is a bitch - 1

DISCLAIMER ( and an informal FOREWORD as well)

 This story and its characters does not have any resemblance to people in real life. It is advised not to proceed with the story if you dont prefer reading vulgar or stories with a primal theme, if you know what I mean! Because its going to get raw and primal soon. The title of the story literally explains the present sitaution we mortals are facing and this story is intended to convey a different message altogether. Hope my first attempt at a proper story clicks well with my readers.

Aravind R Sankar


Taken from google images

The night was illuminated with skyscrapers and lights. The traffic was heavy as horns blared throughout the Anderson and Dickens Avenues The streets were bustling with people, all joyous to celebrate the approaching New Year with their loved ones. Some carried gifts, the others the hands of their beloved. In one such street of Manhattan, a small celebration of sorts was taking place inside Anstruthers, the local pub.....

“CHEERS!”, they shouted.

The thudding of the six beer mugs were drowned in the hoarse drunken toasts of Jeff’s best friends.

Saturday, 13 October 2012

The Beginning

Class 11 was one of the best years of my life. I had a fantastic birthday, I was beginning to be a writer of some sorts and every day in school turned out to be a glorious day for me. Midas touch feeling, to be precise. It was the peak, the epic zenith which I cannot replace or recreate whatever I do.

Today, 4 years later, I look back to realize the amount of clarity in my life I had before. Cozened by the enticing times of paradise, I now realize it was a paradigm of how anyone could get carried away with successes and happiness. It is now a slight pain that throbs occasionally, when small challenges are conquered, giving me the deja-vu of my golden past.

This piece of work was from such a time when I felt I was in the right track, when the blessings flowed in disguise. In abundance.

Dazzled by the splendor of the guiding light
mesmerized by the power of the unknown,
deep down a question arises. An illusion?
Or an awakening? I know not.
But now I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.

Having actualised the pain
and the fruits
provided by unflinching dedication and intense effort,
I have gained clear focus.
And now I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.

Physical and spiritual endurances
have been tested, far beyond tolerance
by Lust, Anger, Greed and Ego
which is why I now feel that
I walk
with a new spring
in every step of my life.

Having finally gained prescience
the obstacles lie waiting
for me to encounter them,
which I would, successfully
as I walk,
with a new spring
in every step of my life.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

Series Review – The Mentalist

Almost everyone these days are following different TV series, which explain different storylines and scripts. It is indeed addictive when watched from a laptop. Some of them really bring out the child in us.Here is my first ever review on one of my most favorite TV shows.

Cop: “So, the dead man tell you who done it?”

A pause followed by a sneer. From the tall man with blonde hair who bends over the body, sniffing him out.

“Leather pants, musky cologne, phallic jewellery. A ladies man. Went after high end cougars with moderate success. Casual cocaine user. Plays guitar-not well. Works in the non creative end of a creative business. Advertising maybe. Nothing worth killing anyone over anyway. So he died from romantic reasons. Where are those suspects you mentioned?”

Cop (sheepish and dumbfounded): “The witnesses?”


For all those out there who had seen The Mentalist- s02e01 and find this familiar, I know that even you were grinning and scratching your heads with your mouths open, regardless of whether you saw it with or without the subtitles. But for the eyes which still remain puzzled and eyebrows which still remain raised, you are about to read a review of CBS’ most eagerly watched TV series – The Mentalist, from an ardent, totally hooked, die-hard fan of the show. Me.

Everyone in my family is a hardcore fan of Sherlock Holmes. Why, almost the entire literary world still remains in awe of the famous sleuth’s methods and powers of deduction. It is a common fact that some feature, script, or trivia in the aired/currently airing crime oriented series is inspired and influenced from Doyle’s Holmes. Psych, Millennium, House and Castle to name a few. Bruno Heller, creator and executive producer of The Mentalist also openly stated this fact. This series, however, captures imagination and experience to give its fans a delightful, humour filled and more importantly, an intellectual treat. A treat which I feel, has been delivered with outstanding screenplay, an intriguing plot and spellbinding dialogue delivery from an ensemble cast.

The entire series chiefly revolves around the developments after the personal trauma of the protagonist, Patrick Jane, who initially is a con-man, pretending to be a psychic to help tragic victims. He taunts an unknown serial killer named Red John, on the pretext of helping the police in catching him, on live television. In retaliation, Red John murders his wife and daughter, leaving Jane an emotionally broken man. He then joins the CBI (California Bureau of Investigation) in the quest of catching him, assisting Special Agent Teresa Lisbon and her team. Quite unlike the other agents, Jane, who is only a consultant, uses his uncanny abilities to manipulate people and read their minds, eventually becoming CBI’s valuable asset- unearthing clues, uncovering secrets and hence solving many gruesome and strange homicides.

Simon Baker, who plays Jane, fits into his role as a mentalist with absurd ease. For a man above 40 and voted as the sexiest man in 2009 by V magazine, Baker is still a heartthrob to many fans of the show. Robin Tunney, playing Lisbon, equally shares the limelight with Jane sharing witty moments of trust and cop issues. Tim Kang dons the role of Kimball Cho, the tough agent with a deadpan sense of humour. The Joker and Romeo of the team is Wayne Rigsby, another agent who keenly mimics Jane’s antics played by Owain Yeoman. The glamour quotient and the romance element are further spiced up by Amanda Righetti who plays Grace Van Pelt, a young and an eager agent. Special guest appearances are occasionally graced by other notable actors namely Emannuelle Chriqui, Samaire Armstrong, Micheal Gaston, Terry Kinney and others (the former two in the later seasons).

As of June 2012, The Mentalist has completed four seasons with good ratings. And CBS has renewed it for a fifth season as well. Show times were shifted from Thursdays 8 30 pm to Sundays 8 30 pm starting from the fifth season. There are many episodes/cases in the show which are independent from the Red John storyline. Bruno Heller uses such episodes to display the deep bonding and the other side of the agents’ lives. This and the intriguing fact that the viewers have not got to see even the antagonist’s face keep the series going strong every year.

The Mentalist is not just a series where mind-boggling-but-simple deductions are made and few laughs are shared. The show also portrays pretty accurately the psychology of people, the reasons for criminal bent of mind and sheds light and knowledge on lot of other worldly happenings. It can be said that Heller is a man of spiritual experience and a wise person who has understood the ways of the world, for there are many deep meanings that can be perceived from almost every scene. My family and I are eagerly waiting for the fifth season.

Now I am going to read you like a notebook and voice what your mind is thinking. Hmmmm.......

You are excited. And tempted. You feel the article is good and has nicely captivated your mind. The need to know more about this series is increasing. I can FEEL the aura around you, slowly and gently, oscillating with questions......
Im pretty good, right? No???

Never mind. Thank you for your time.

The premiere of season 5 of The Mentalist is scheduled to be telecast on  Sunday, September 30th, 2012. Catch the action and drama as the mystery deepens!!

Monday, 27 August 2012

The vices

Every time i talk to people about common sense, goodness and remaining pure, I always mention the 5 vices that affect the humanity around us. What are the 5 vices? This post will be the RHYTHMSPEAK of the August month and will explain them. I hope all my readers would benefit immensely from this. Wishing all of you the greetings of this season, here it goes.

Of what use is Anger
which rattles all men of honor and peace?
It is 'd' short of danger
destructs and devastates with ease.

Of what good is Greed
when empty-handed, souls arrive and depart?
Tis the sole cause for hierarchy and creed
wrenching humanity and morals apart.

Of what good is Lust
which fosters only jealousy and lies?
Control of senses and organs, a must
lest we perish in its vice.

Of what good is Attachment
a harsh predecessor of love and then sorrow?
Right from the womb to the tomb, tis a constant predicament
to those awaiting for the morrow.

Of what good is Ego
that cloud the intellect and reason of mind?
Better late than never to forgo
such vices, it may strike us blind.

Blind enough to embrace the madness 
of sin, blasphemy and many a lunacy.
Oh Lord, engulfed in illusion and sadness
we pray unto you, "Mercy, Mercy!"

Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Absolutely Random

This is my first not-a-prior-prepared post. I still dont understand what came over me to write this.

 Every time wanted to pen my thoughts down, I got hooked on to some other work immediately. Why am I starting my post like this? Because I did not convert my thoughts into a writing for about 5 times in the last week or so!

One question that I, and probably all the writers/students/people, should ask themselves is this: "What are my priorities and in what order should I go about them?"

I realized that being skilled in many areas is a dangerous positive rather than a helpful one. Being a Jack of all trades comes along with the price of having no space to breathe. The reason simply being that you try to put your foot in all the places and finally toppling down due to lack of balance. 

That kept me thinking, was my passion really writing? Or did I want to flaunt my skills to satisfy my ego? 

The question still remains unanswered. And Im searching within myself.

Saturday, 4 August 2012

Another walk in the city – II

This is the second installment of the article titled Another walk in the city I. To read it, click HERE

A familiar sight greeted me once I entered the departmental store. Packets and packets of Lays, Cheetos, Piknik, Maggi noodles, Milkybars and Milk Bikis were neatly arranged in different shelves. To be honest, my craze for these “evergreen” (not in the true sense of the word) (laughs!) snack items had long gone with my transition to a responsible 20 year old man of the family. However, I always invoke the old saying “Old habits die hard” to my defence, to satisfy my ever voracious appetite once in every 2 weeks. So no guilt attached there.
Where was I again? Ah, the departmental store.

Monday, 16 July 2012

My dear mummy

I found myself often asking my friends and acquaintances:
"I guess you dont want to go back to college. You will miss your mom na?"

This poem will be the first Rhythmspeak of the blog, dedicated to all my fellow hostellers leaving home for their college lives. How many of them would've thought deeply about their lives, about their parents and how they are growing old? This poem (whose first para was a status update on FB exactly 2 months before this poem's release date) will definitely open some thoughts.

Twas worth all the fuss you made
after all the exams I wrote,

whatever cometh the result,
you will still love me
and I'm coming home to you.
Now I get down to watch your face

Tuesday, 10 July 2012

One wrong turn

What happens when two friends take a turn in the opposite direction of the road to their destination?
This article is dedicated to my best, ever smart buddy who will remain unnamed throughout this article. He told me that being open to change and ideas would help anyone in the long run. Perhaps that may be why this post will be my casual, slightly lame and even horrible. But I’ve decided to bare it all when our trip became filled with bizarre and funny-for-us-both events that illuminated the otherwise cloudy skies of Chennai on Monday, July 8th. I solemnly swear that the following are the truth, the sole truth and nothing but the truth!

My best friend (let’s name him S) and I lunched at a restaurant famous for lavish veggie buffets. We spent the time “lame out-talking” each other. There was one problem though. 

Whenever he or I reached the punch line of our jokes, the waiter would come and fill the glass of water we barely finished. 

Tuesday, 3 July 2012

The Dilemma

Two reasons for the above title.
1. Wasted a lot of time. And came crashing to earth in many aspects.
2. Never able to rhyme a single poem till now.
I guess there is a beginning for everything. In my case, this poem!

All day long, I stayed put and lazy
pondering my future, all bleak and hazy.
"Time will soon run", so said my dad.
Despite the fun, Oh, now I feel bad.
Taken from google images
Hands on my face, "Why was I like this?"
Fighting my case thinking

Sunday, 24 June 2012

A philosopher's warning

This was what I had been telling people for years. Nobody listened. It was frustrating. How long will people keep enjoying the materialistic? Will they remain in the dark forever, till the world crumbles and sweep their bodies along? It was a sudden rise in temper. The frustration that the truth was ignored. I ran towards my table, fumbled with my pen as it moved on its own accord. It was no longer connected to my exasperated limbs, but to my determined mind. Which is why you are reading this.....

Yield not, to the fierce beauty
and charms of the queens of Illusion.
Mind not, the epidemics
that strike
the future, yours and others alike.
Heed not, the poisons that travel
ears to ears, mouths to mouths.
Anger not, the

Monday, 18 June 2012

Another walk in the city – I

Its not easy maintaining a blog. Especially when ideas simply do not strike you as to what to write about. Thinking about it, I told myself, "Enough of deep stuff for a while." This one is light and breezy which surely needs no additional explanation.


“Ma, not again”, I shouted, horrified. 

It was only yesterday that I had purchased 4 packets of milk for her.

“Most of the milk is going to your stomach only”, was her constant defence.

Sighing, I got dressed for the umpteenth time this vacation. Seldom was I left alone to the privacy of my room. Some errand would come up or should I say, my sweet mother would cook them up and within 2 hours

Thursday, 14 June 2012

The Indian Marriage

When was the last time since you had gone for somebody's wedding? Me? It was a year and a half ago. This poem explains about a typical South Indian middle-class family's visit to their friend's marriage. It is written primarily from the view of a 6 month old infant who is dazed by this "big" journey away from his cosy cot. The idea was to make the readers feel the situation's environment from a different perspective. Here it goes.

The wailing child
cooed over by his sensible sibling,
both sandwiched between
their pompous mother and her unfocussed husband
(on the tenterhooks of his boss' call)
all crammed in a rickshaw
which comes to a screeching

Friday, 8 June 2012

Lost in the crossfire

This poem, which I created 2 years ago, was done with a sore heart and a suffered mind. Patience tests a man so hard, that he loses his sense of judgement. I felt I couldn't wait any longer for justice.Justice of a personal kind. Most of my friends would've already seen this poem on Facebook in my Notes. But what they do not know is that this will be the epilogue to the romantic-erotic poem on which i will embark 4 installments! This is an epilogue from the point of view of first person, full of deep meaning and intensity. But then again, YOU are the judges!

Rendering sorries were of no avail
as I bounded onward in the journey of life.
So deep were the regrets
that the wound never completely healed.
Sadness replete with shame,

Life was just as it was!

I wrote this poem when i was in Class 11, feeling very proud about this work then, although now i feel this was inexperienced work because at that time, I simply wrote what I felt. Being a Star Correspondent for a year, this poem appeared in The Times of India student edition dated Nov 11th, 2008. There was this sad feeling welling deep down inside. All my life long I made promises never fulfilling them. I was never a go-getter. The feelings reached a climax and the rest leaked out from the pen as follows:

Taken from google images
'Twas tough for him to face defeat
to face it...face to face;
'Twas tough for him to accept
that he was ordinary.
Excuses flowed from his mouth and 
promises hurled from his heart
but nothing went right at all,
life was just as it was...

Expectations high and afloat
in the minds of his parents;
hope writ large on their faces,
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