Winter is fast approaching.
I have lived many years in Canada.
Yet, my hatred for this season
has not lessened in the slightest.
As always, when memories of winter
come rushing in, they bring along
the snow, the frost, and the ice.
Thoughts of how I will cope with them
this time spread throughout my mind.
Many times, I have tried—
hoping at least this year
I might sign a treaty of friendship
with winter, and live in peace.
* (Illustration – AI. Kuruman Kaadu was once a small village in Vavuniya, Sri Lanka. Today, it has become a town.)
The Kuruman Kaadu I hold in memory
is not the one that exists today.
It now seems like a dream world.
At times, I even wonder—
did it really exist?
But alongside that doubt,
I also feel—
there's no need for such questions.
Whether it existed or not
is not important to me.
The memories of it
still stir within my feelings.
Those are what matter.
English Translation from Tamil
The Modern Vikramadityan!
Who mocked from within?
Who mocked from within?
Each time, without fail,
Your laughter has become your craft.
Who mocked from within?
Who mocked from within?
Every time, it is the same—
Whether it is the laughter spreading
Across the vast expanse,
Or the illusions you create,
Or your intricate tales of cunning,
None of it is new to me.
Who mocked from within?
Who mocked from within?
In the layered skies of the night,
Your daring laughter echoes.
Every night, as I watch,
In the glow of the stars,
And in their strength,
I feel your presence.
Who mocked from within?
Who mocked from within?
In the vastness of spacetime, Kannamma,
I marvel at your tender heart.
In the vastness of spacetime, Kannamma,
I long to take flight, even for a moment.
In the contemplation of spacetime, Kannamma,
I dream of moments filled with joy.
Beyond the constraints of circumstance, Kannamma,
I yearn to think like him,
Who declared:
“There is no such thing as time, Kannamma,
Nor is space real in the way we perceive.”
He said only spacetime is true, Kannamma,
And I am awestruck by the heights of his wisdom.
My mind still wavers,
Unable to grasp the depths of his insights.
Tell me, Kannamma,
Have you ever wondered
How he understood it all?
I ponder this endlessly, Kannamma.
I remain in awe of it all, always, Kannamma.
Memory birds Circle around you;
I lose myself watching their flight.
The strength of your love takes hold of me,
And though I falter,
I become a bee sipping nectar
From the sweetness of your love.
That is all I need.
Memory birds Circle around you;
I lose myself watching their flight.
English translation of the Tamil song written by V.N.Giritharan:
Music & Vocals: AI SUNO Art: AI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h4dQTN3nn0g
Song: The Great Tree That Doesn't Wither in Life's Storm by V.N.Giritharan:
I am the great tree that doesn’t wither in life’s storm.
I am the unwavering, strong tree that never bows down.
Life is a vast river full of whirlpools.
In the swirling heart, I will stand firm.
What’s the use of breaking down?
What’s the benefit of falling, swept away?
I am the great tree that doesn’t wither in life’s storm.
I am the unwavering, strong tree that never bows down.
As long as I live, I will create joy.
If a great obstacle arises, I will face it.
I will not retreat to the sidelines.
I will confront it. I will swim against the current and keep moving forward.
I am the great tree that doesn’t wither in life’s storm.
I am the unwavering, strong tree that never bows down.
We only live once here.
In our life, let’s realize the good.
I won’t be shaken by mirages.
I will recognize the illusion and keep walking.
I am the great tree that doesn’t wither in life’s storm.
I am the unwavering, strong tree that never bows down.
Relentless effort is the only necessity.
That alone is the solid foundation for growth.
I will journey with this truth in my heart.
A time of great prosperity is sure to greet me.
I am the great tree that doesn’t wither in life’s storm.
I am the unwavering, strong tree that never bows down.
- Recently, Ontario's Minister of Infrastructure, Kinga Surma, abruptly closed the Ontario Science Centre without any prior notice due to the condition of the roof. This poem reflects the impact of that closure. -
You are not just a land mark.
You are not just an architectural marvel.
You are an experience intertwined
With the lives of the people,
You are an emotional mosaic.
You have been a mentor to us.
You have been a friend to us.
You have been a magician showing us wonders.
You have been an artist bringing us joy.
You are the cool breeze
In the heat-emitting concrete jungle.
Ah! This soft breeze,
the sweet scent carried by the breeze
of beautiful flowers,
Sky larks' joyful songs and flights
from the green fields,
Ah! Ah! Ah!
How sweet!
How sweet!
You are a true global citizen.
Your life is not in vain
but a beacon of hope for mankind.
Though you could have indulged
in the pleasures of modern technology,
you chose a different path.
You decided to fight for your country,
to sacrifice your precious life
for your motherland.
I would say
I love that world
in many ways.
When my mind gets disturbed,
storms of sorrow blow,
and unsteadiness engulfs me.
I start my journey towards it.
Like that world journey,
no other journeys give me satisfaction.
The scenes there are beautiful.
Understanding the language of birds,
learning scientific achievements—
any amount of time I travel,
losing myself without thinking
anything in that world.
The best thing about the world is
the time ship
Buying books from old bookshops is
mind-pleasing and enjoyable.
The joy of purchasing from
an old bookshop
is a distinct and unique experience
compared to buying a book
from a new bookstore.
The availability of book selections is
much more limited in a new bookstore.
For example,
you can't find nicely bound
serials with illustrations
that appeared in old magazines
or comics in a new bookstore
like you can in an old one.
Camels never break down
and never get tired seeing deserts,
never get scared witnessing desert storms.
they love traveling long journeys.
Whenever mindstorms blow,
trapped in the whirlpool of memory,
losing boats in the mind-sea,
and swimming,
I think about camels, wishing
I were a camel.
In those moments,
I think about camels
that are tireless
in the long journeys
of turbulence.
Falling leaves, chirping birds,
blue skies, trees, lakes, twinkling stars,
humans...
Who wrote the code of this program
of space-time
where we all function?
This program has bugs
like all other programs,
but it's exceptional
in one aspect:
It allows
its objects
to fix their bugs.
Concrete! Concrete! Concrete!
Walls of innocent white surfaces
that absorb the rays,
radiating flames.
Cement-coated pavements chuckle.
Spaces which lost themselves
in the warm embraces of the
valorous columns.
The hot rays seep through
the layers of air.
I am chained in the empire of solitude.
As a slave or master?
Neither of them,
But as an entirely liberated
and adorable bird singing.
In an unfettered world,
does any ghost of distress exist?
In the world of no laws,
does melancholy exist?
The rays of light,
friends of mine,
shyly hide behind my flying.
Below us, there are Flatlanders.
Visiting their world is my preferred hobby.
Differences in dimensions benefit us,
because of this,
the world of Flatlanders always entrances me.
The reason behind this bliss
is the superiority complex.
It's our weakness as well.
Is it not enough for my bliss or entrancement?
One of actor Mammootty’s finest films is Mathilukal (“Walls”). It is notable that Mammootty’s performance in this film was chosen by Forbes ...
