Departed Sole…


(This poem is in praise of Lord Ganesa statue at the Anna International Airport, Madras.My First Blog published by Sulekha in 1996 when I was seeing off my younger daughter to Harvard !)

Scene : A Nice Ganesa Idol…

None Cares to even change the Very Old Garland..

All Passengers cross Him methodically..

an annoyed Ganesa’s agony expressed!

All Expressions are His’ Own!

Mutilated by Malik Kafur..Remains of a Beautiful Ganesha@Helebid

Mutilated by Malik Kafur..Remains of a Beautiful Ganesha@Helebid

The cosmetic make-up
Melted to give way
Revealed Geetha’s genuine face
Drops of summer showers
Annoying this young lady of Yale
Leaving her two-year-old
In the crowd at the café!

Behold this Kamala mami of eight yard sari
Arguing with poor Panchapakesan of all
Officer unique amenable to one
“Why the hell can’t you provide 
an extra trolley, I say?

Often I see on my way to California
Never you guys will learn, I tell you?”
Showering her Sunday morn prayers in plenty!

Panama hatted Pat is cute
A backbag is all
That carried him
From Puerto Rico
To Padmanabha at Trivandrum
Cool he is
“Ok! Ok! I understand”
Even at the security’s kindless words!

Intricate workmanship of Lord Padmanabha in Golde..Trivancore 18th Century

Intricate workmanship of Lord Padmanabha in Golde..Trivancore 18th Century

None noticed my anger all the while
A simpleton must be from Palani I thought
Came all the way to greet me in the corner
Last minute ignored even my imposing presence
Inviting his cousin of Kumarapalayam fame
Kandippa thaipoosathhukku vanthidunga!”*
Praising my wonderful brother of Malaysia
In weighted vellis (silver coins) they only know!

The dignity of Damitriadis of Greece
Approaching the counter in steps of grace
Singled him out in a crowd of all I know
Unmindful of the blue shirted pairs
Steaming that train of trolleys from nowhere
A trackless wonder piercing the entrance
Freightening the maddening rush of the hour
All flights departing but this train will hold
All of them to ransom I know by now
But the trolley train is a fun for
Geetha’s left-over-kid at the café
He enjoys those moments so much
His angered mom would take
To come back to her earthern style!

Trolley Train at Air Port

Trolley Train at Air Port

Sudden influx of a Trolley Train!

Sudden influx of a Trolley Train!

He must be the CEO of a, it looks,
Suited and booted for pleasure more so
A hand bag bought at Harrods a measure
Steps could show travel a week
The company pays and what do I care freak!

Kamala mami, again, flying coast to coast
Searching for someone else to quarrel for sure
Surprised was she to find Dami
The Greek was curious at me
Gazing my stature with awe amazing
“Hi! You like Ganesa?” Mami would initiate
“Yes, mam! I admire for sure?”
“What is there to admire?”
“The workmanship! It is unique!”
“Mr. ****”
“Mr. Damitriadis this is not such a masterpiece,
You must come and see in my son’s place in Sunny Vale?”
“Oh! Your son is in USA?”
“One in Sunny Vale, another in London,
Both my daughters are in Singapore!
“Must be a very proud mom?”
“Oh! Travel kills me nowadays,
Practically on the plane all the time!”
“But you said this idol is not unique? How?”
“See Dami, Ganesa comes in all sorts of shapes these days?”
“But this Panchaloka is unique, I have never seen one like this before,
Especially without the important mouse
“See, Panchaloka or Gnanaloka, it is all the same!”
“Mam, Panchaloka is unique in the sense”
“I know Dami it has12 hands and six heads”
“God! Mam!!”
“I know all these idols are made on the beaches of Mahabalipuram,
But nothing to beat what I have in Singapore daughter’s bungalow”
“But mam you said Pancahloka has six heads?”
“So what! It can sometimes have even eight or even nine heads
They call them artistic taste/artistic flavour!”
“But mam do you know Panchaloka must have only five heads!”
“Not necessarily”
“You seem to travel a lot but you do not know what Panchaloka is”
“Damn it Dami, how dare you say that
I am a born Brahmin and I know what I talk about
You guys come here to make merry and try to teach us what we already know?”
“I am sorry but I also have learnt Sanskrit under Dr. Seshadrinathan”
“Oh that old man in Sastri Nagar,
I know him. If I call him he will be coming running to my house”

The endless episode came to a halt when Damitriadis decided to touch me
Enquired Panchapakesa the officer so nice
“Sir. From when has this jasmine garland been on this Ganesa?”
“Frankly Sir, I do not have the time to look into these things I am sorry Sir!”
At least he was frank he never ever saw me in that corner,
Dami was so touched by my presence he went out of the way to Palaniman
“Sir, can you give a piece of your wife’s jasmine flowers on her head”
As she carried a kilo on her head to Malaysia
“Why Sir?”
“To decorate this idol in this corner!”
“Oh! For Ganesa! Sir you do not know
It is ‘papam‘ (great sin) to flower the God with used flowers”
“Sir, whether used or not I want fresh flowers
To decorate this wonderful Panchaloka
Look at the faded jasmine, must have been years
Since anyone cared”

Touched by Dami’s sincerity
Palani got a few rows to garland Ganesa,
that’s me!

Proud was I again with some flavour,
Feeling lonely for a while,
Missed out my mouse
Who escaped with Bill Gates a few years ago
Alone in that corner I watch
My mouse will return one day to me with hopes
Happy but I am, my mouse is making me proud
Helping many pass through me at this corner
Opening the Gates of my country!

Around this time I saw
An ardent devotee of Paramacharya
“Remember Sharmi to keep his picture
At Harvard or wherever you are!”

I, the mouseless monument,
Bless these young ones
Let my mouse remain at the Gates
As my rep on that soil
To send to this land of mine
Treasure of love
Happiness sublime!

All know by now
I know them all
In and out
In every corner
Madras or Maryland
I will see you,
Standing here,
Whether you see me or not!

“You must certainly come for Thai Poosam” (a very important festival for Lord Muruga in Malaysia).


About s.rajah iyer

An MBA.. Interested in writing,Reading..Indian Philosophy
This entry was posted in General, so called poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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