2 syllables I screamed in agony
Revealing my origins, like nothing else could
Adding spice was the tint of Melanin
Determined to define and demean me
Scorching summers were spent
Munching mango and lemon pickles
Preparations and drying
Of Pappadams and the like
Of ghee soaked Mysurpaks
And Pullareddy paper sweets
Of milky Kovas from Srivilliputhur
Or the flour laden Kundas
Devotion has its way and say
In camphor smeared Tirupathi laddus
In the sticky Aravana from Sabarimala hills
Where faith interspersed with cuisine
Morning ears attuned to Suprabhatham
Rendered mellifluously, unfailingly
By the revered M S Subbulakshmi
At the peak of her vocal powers
Ramanavami concerts at Fort High School
Or the kutcheri filled Margazhi Decembers
Or Yakshagana prasangas extending into dawn
Or the chariot thronging streets at the fairs
The cities named, nicknamed and renamed
After queens, beans, demons and Gods
Stemming from tiny words like Rajamahendravaram
Or adorned with pleasing qualifiers like "Singaara"
Warmth and relief in the facade
And shade of coconut palms
Not so benign, challenging trails
In lush greenery of the Ghats and valleys
Soothing solace, I find
In tiled roofs and red-oxide floors
Might as well gasp in awe
Of the lengthy temple corridors
Some of these are memories
Some, goals to look forward to
All I can do, is mince and wince
Uttering, as I sigh, AYYOH!
