Showing posts with label K Pankajam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label K Pankajam. Show all posts

Glass Doors - A Melange of Emotions

Glass Doors, Poems
Author: Satbir Chadha
Authorspress (2020)
ISBN 978-93-89824-06-3 

Satbir Chadha is an award-winning poet, critic, academician and artist, all rolled into one. As the title suggests explicit, she is transparent in straight-from-the-heart expressions, sometimes witty, sometimes romantic, yet leaves a lump in the hearts of the readers. Her observations and perceptions from every day life forces her to express them diligently. 
 
This collection contains 80 poems with an introduction by Dr. Santosh Bakaya and blurbs by Gauri Dixit, Vijay Nair and Dr. Ampat Koshy. Dr Bakaya states in her introduction that this is a book ‘serving the choicest delicacies for all literary palates, a waft of fresh air tingling the senses, slowly making the reader drift into a meditative state of mind’, and I fully endorse her view.
The poems have been written over a period of four years from 2016 to 2019 indicative of her thoughts and themes having undergone thorough and deep deliberations, events of historical relevance well researched and etched in the pages of history, her humane thoughts and experiences, all outfitted in words of her wisdom and each poem proves this beyond doubt. 

This is a kaleidoscope of poems dealing with different emotions presented with effortless simplicity and touches the sensitivity of the readers. Her themes revolve around socio-political concerns, anguish over societal degradations, violence against women and children among others with a m├йlange of emotions and is meant for an audience of all age groups. 

The title poem ‘Glass Door’ sets the tone of this collection just with a few words enough to touch the hearts of the readers with its forthrightness.

Satbir Chadha
-----One slices invisibly
Like a surgical scalpel
But they all bleed
And bleed
Nothing clots
Inside, something dies
Every time
Behind the closed glass doors
Of a woman’s fortitude. 

Poem ‘Flirtations’ clearly indicates the inconsistencies meted out to boys and girls or the lines drawn between the man-woman identities with an ulterior motive, yet women prove their mettle amidst conflicts, when the outcome should be definitely in favour of them.

‘I ‘ll be Right Back’ is a fine poem, a tale in verse, wherein the poet portrays a man assuring his lady that he will be right back and her solid faith in those words sees her not to lose her mind, even when her son tries in vain to make her believe that he has got the news that he is gone. But at the end, her intuition proves right and he comes back. The poem concludes with a twist at the end, which makes one teary-eyed.

As she nodded teary eyed
He took her home and put her in bed
He kissed her eyes, he kissed her lips
He kissed her pearly forehead
Her vigil over she smiled in peace
Then at last she shut her eyes
Never to open again. 

Poem Dejavu makes us aware of the ruthless happenings in the medical field, the fate of a person whose right kidney was removed without his knowledge or consent while he got admitted for gall bladder surgery. These types of inhumane acts, that too, from persons we trust next to God being saviours of life are disheartening and disgusting, but true. The humanist in Satbir Chadha holds a mirror to these types of misdeeds in the society in many of her poems.

While in Poem ‘Those Lazy Afternoon Miles’ the poet’s concern for the safety of children inside school as well as guardians and parents is displayed, it is the poverty of street children that is dealt with in poem ‘A Guilt-Ridden Passer-by’.

Some folks I’d see while passing on street corners
They’d be kids in tatters with soothers in their mouths
Doubles up in a swing crafted from the mother’s torn saree
Saw them playing there on the same sidewalk
Barefoot in faded frocks or shorts and T shirts
When they should have been at school……… 

‘Please Don’t’ is a poem dealing with deception veiled in kindness especially shown to young girls and one would feel a lump in throat after reading this poem:

Everyone hugs me
See what you have done to me
You hug me and squeeze me
And make me bleed between my legs
I’m scared I’ll soon be dead
Like our dog when he cut his leg
Still everyone just hugs me. 

The pain and helplessness of a little girl depicted will haunt the readers long after reading the poem. Satbirji has a golden heart which wants to eradicate the decadence, bone-stuck in society’s opaque innards.

There can’t be any poets who has not sung for world peace, Satbirji is no exception. She prays for world peace in her poem ‘Devotion’. She wants to see the devoted and the devotee merge into one like a soul in the eternal soul or like a drop in an ocean. 
 
If all colours of the world
Become one colour of peace 

Through Poem ‘Don’t Walk on Clouds’ with its powerful opening lines, she reiterates that one can neither walk on the clouds, nor in the air or on the snow, but only on the ground, which holds us, belongs to it and ultimately return to it. This is such a powerful poem and one of the best in this collection.
 
Only the ground will keep you
Folded in its arms
Thence you came
To it you belong. 
 
There are two villanelles (Nostalgia & Mama’s There with you) which are quite convincingly structured with beautiful rhyming. 

The last poem ‘The lazy Music is Still’ has a tag line “dying continues for a long time after death’ from Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children and pauses with a question to the readers, with its concluding line; “Does one fully die when declared dead.” 

There are many other beautiful poems in this collection one can’t miss, which I leave for the sake of brevity and would insist poetry lovers to explore this book, which is quite engaging and entertaining. 

Special Edition: Pankajam Kottarath

K Pankajam
Greedy Growth of Hopes 

Hope and resilience are in her blood
and greedy are their growth in her mind. 
Her heart is not bound by any spiritual cult
It finds its own ways to ease and exult.
   
When gloom sits down deep slurping salaciously 
from the blistered pools of passivity
She clings to its flimsy folds and float 
till the light of liveliness slowly, but surely unfolds.

Poets, you have in you great vigour of mind
allow it not to sap in sloth or sink into the mud
else it rots like iron rusting from disuse
and allow doom or gloom to vanish into the seas. 

Same is true with her dreams and desires, unwavering 
To shake them, one needs to chase up to their verges.  
***


Sinking Discords

Hard she tries to untangle the knots in her thoughts  
A discord once born breeds in unlit bends fast,
leaves its scars those refuse to fade out from hearts  
prompting thoughts grow beyond bounds, unhinged.

To destroy the roots of deep-grown hurts, tough 
Hard though, not impossible, she gathers herself.
How to reach the fort of success alone in her thoughts 
and steadfast in her resolve to win, she ventures out. 
 
What if it is at the farthest end? Resolute not to quit.  
Hurdles to fade away in the force of her new-found grit
for the road-map of victory is clear and distinct
she gains momentum, nothing to distract, thwart or prevent.   

Wearing heart on her sleeves and faith in her guts  
she moves forward battling the winds of baffling doubts    
upon which coiled discords sink to the bottom, never to revert,
thunders and storms slowly settle down in her heart.
***

 
Bridge of Belief

Sun and moon guiding day and night
Why at all a doubt when start is fair, if not smart.
Wish I build a bridge with belief, 
between imagination and truth
pushing back reeking flaws of the past
and as I cross it from this end to that
doubts dissolve; destiny disappears
transpiring to widen the horizon of my dreams
my feminine inklings fly away in their force.

As passion and precision manifest in success
the whirlwind of vile thoughts I try to suppress,
to keep cool within and outside, I thrive, 
hold the infinite flames of my hopes alive.

My desires intense, goals modest
vision clear and on ways varied, as I meditate  
chances emerge multiple to choose from the best, 
When fear of failure is forced to take a back seat.
***

Pankajam Kottarath (Diaspora Dual Identities)

K Pankajam

Leaving Homeland

 

If leaving homeland is about loss and longing that linger

It’s also about the riches it brings in, not to counter.

 

It’s not alone the sense of loneliness or alienation intrinsic to migrants

It’s the journey from non-acceptance to acceptance that matters.

 

It’s not the loss of identity or hostility in a new place that matters

It’s about bridging the gaps between countries and cultures.

 

It’s not the feeling of rootlessness or fragmentation one fights against

It’s about the success story becoming one with the global state.

 

It’s not the cultural clash, gender or race biases one confronts

It’s about the experiences passed on to generations consequent.

 

Digging deep into ethnic bonds, Indomania or Indophilia might ascend

as nostalgia can’t nosedive, nor can newfound urges nullify niceties of native land.

Mantle of migration offering mines of fortunes manifold, one has to yield

and shuttled between identities, the quest for a new one wins at the end.

 

Note: Indomania/Indophilia - refers to love for India and its culture, history, cuisine, and religions. 

 

 

Nostalgia

 

Nostalgia has no sense of time

It enters anywhere, anytime

Even at the most inopportune time

Still a welcome guest, I spread a red carpet to it.

 

Riding me through lands of longing

where rushing reminiscences

behave like long lost friends

I’m in its tight embrace.

 

The vessel of it floats somewhere in my head

cruising through the webs of memories

those sleep like babes half-fed

and it brings smells and sounds of the past.

 

Grandma’s tales I hear, she smiles at me

with betel-stained tooth, couple of them missing.

Her elongated ears dangle from side to side

lolacks in them whisper romantic tunes to the ears.

 

Smell of palappam and pazhampori invade my nostrils

I inhale it with a ‘mmm’ sound, gulp down saliva with a satisfied sigh.

Taste-buds budging I become a babe again.

In this far-away land, I dream of that yummy breakfast.

 

My pupils shrink as the light rays appear like loyal workers.

Let not the light encroach into my dreams

nor put a stop to my enticing train of thoughts.

Let them have their field day over my ruminations.

 

 

Notes:

Palappam- Kerala Palappam is made with soaked and ground rice and coconut milk. These lacey appams make a delicious breakfast. 

Pazhampori- A delicious snack in Kerala made out of ripe banana slit lengthwise after peeling and dipped into a flour batter mixed with salt, turmeric powder and sugar, and then deep-fried in oil until golden brown.

Lolacks- In ancient days it was a fashion statement for older women in Kerala, to get their ears elongated and wear big studs in them called lolacks.

 

 

A Silent Shift

 

Speed breakers are there in hearts too

Some painted, some plain and unseen

behind the fogged and fermented thoughts

existing with diverse degrees of insensibility.

 

There are memories to come back to

some hiding in the folds of forgetfulness

others shy away from conscious thoughts

all wait wanting to get fondled, some day.

 

Feeding on silence, hearts grow cold

Aloofness sets out to seek acceptance

Sunset days mind munches moments of past glories

Sharing, a need so forceful, too hard to neglect.

 

Old age homes enjoy increased patronage.

No caste, no creed, no gender.

Money, mindset, market,

all when meet in straight lines,

a silent shift in health care takes place

a crucial change in commitments

an undefined set of rules in familial inheritance

besides a digression in people’s perspectives.

 

 

Pankajam Kottarath, a bilingual writer, poet and novelist, is the author of 44 books including 25 books of poems, besides a French translation of one of her books and have contributed poems/articles and reviews to numerous national/international journals/anthologies. Her works have been discussed by literary critiques besides an exclusive book of research papers on her works. She is the recipient of awards like Rock Pebbles National Literary Award 2019, Reuel International Literary award for Lifetime Achievement 2022, Global Literary Leadership Award 2022 from Gujarat Sahitya Akademi & MS, MVV Creative Writer Poetry Award 2023, ISISAR Literary Eloquence award, 2024, among others.

Special Edition: K Pankajam

K Pankajam
The Half-Open Eyes
 
Eyes downcast, half open, not dazed or dead
mask secret worries hiding in their depth.  
If numb they appear, you are mistaken.
Conscious or not, she veils her own self often.
 
There are stories in them waiting to be followed,  
of hopes, despair and grief peeping as quick as flash. 
They often wail from behind layers of emotions
Yet a half-smile is always her feminine symbol.

No ornaments can compete with her soulful smile.
A simple serene look has its own ways of appeal.
Maybe she is upset by the global crises widespread
It’s time to spread peace and brotherhood. she pleads. 
 
Look into their depths and read in them clear 
enticing tales of  mothers’ sacrifice, love and care.  
Distractions can’t mar her verve to knock out fears
skeletal beasts stalking have to retreat to their furrows. 

Her intentions genuine, efforts, unmatched   
Bumps in her path to fade, success waits to heed.
Indeed, hands that rock the cradle are to rule the world  
And a picture of ultimate elegance does she wield.

Poetry: Pankajam Kottarath

K Pankajam
Quest For New Skies

The quest for seeking new skies
as old as humanity’s subsistence 
gaining might, I set out on a journey
grit to quickly grab the alien land strong. 
 
My dreams are deep, wings of hope, strong
and I believe as winds of change come whispering  
clouds of uncertainty and pain have to disperse.
The destination is not far, fortitude floods in my veins
I adjust my sails to swiftly set my foot there.  
My mind weaves dreams to unreal proportions.

The new skies are waiting to greet me, I’m aplomb
Language, no barrier; a smile is all that does it.
Imbibing a culture hard, but credible, crucial is survival. 
Sun is the same, moon and stars too,
so are birds, streams and seas and everything else. 
Why then should the sky be different; It follows me quiet.

I too have a stake here; my dreams grow tall
Building an identity not easy, one half of my mind says
the other half says; You can grab it quickly.
Drown your ship of skepticism and take the oars of optimism.
***


Beseeches

Let this pillow wipe out my tears of isolation in thick dark nights,
the cozy comforter absorb my hot sighs in wintry hours 
pray long and lonely nights be a thing of the past,
sleep doesn’t ditch me or dreams don’t desert me. 
 
Pray the fairies of sleep sailing in the realm of slumber
visit me in the ethereal world of sleep
hopefully having made up their minds at last 
not to be diffident to pat my warring eyelids,
entice them to meet and merge in harmony
and see me off on a travel to some uncharted lands.  
Meanwhile, let the floating cotton candies floating in the sky
graciously descend and a clear sky greet the bracing shiny disc. 

Words can’t match or hold my delight in the next morn
acquiring the youthlike vigour and vitality 
like that of one seeing light after long-lasting darkness,
hearing a mellowed music after ages of subdued silence,
seeing a reared seed long buried in darkness taking sprouts
or the white rose in my garden barren for long 
surprises me with its first baby bud, all but fancy  
as my beseeches blend in the wind and go extinct.  
***

 
Distance

Distance is when
we are not in each other’s thoughts
and the hollow echo of loneliness hunts us. 

Distance is when
both of us have diverse goals 
travel in parallel paths, not meeting.

Distance is when
we ignore simple pleasures of life
and our open arms vacant meet with despair.

Distance is when
we give room for a third one prying
sniffing for cracks to widen them.  

Distance is when
we think of winning arguments between us,
lose goodwill and love erodes. 

Distance increases when
faith is gone, hope lost and both give up on the other  
and as empty life staring at you, you turn into a dry well.
 
Distance disappears  
even when the tangible miles between increase
but when self is lost the distance has to dwindle.

Distance is a hollow word.
When people crave for love and die for it
it can’t define love; minds alone define it.
***

 
Displacement

Someone plays flute
notes of which frolicking
flow on wings of the frosty wind  
that fondles my cheeks feebly.
Its refulgent and rhythmic flow
keeps the air mellowed and magical.

My senses dissolve in its charm 
intoxicates my moods, bestows me health
and turns the gloomy environs godly.
Oh Lord Krishna, I see none, but you,
as your divine music echoes in my heart
your name being synonymous with flute.

Between us distance can’t cause displacement
Envelop me in the fold of your indebtedness
bestow benign blessings on me till I reunite with you  
until then let your flute fill music in my soul.
*** 

K Pankajam (Women and Spring)

K Pankajam
Spring and Me

Spring is a girl in love, pristine and glowing.
Flipping through the luminous rays
and giggling at the burning star, her sunny paramour 
as she glides down like an apsara, 
the earth attains puberty, bedecked with buds 
instilling in me an oasis of inspiration.
  
Glistening through the green leaves in meadows
and smiling through blooming flowers,  
as she makes the air aromatic and earth vibrant,
scented wind frolics forcing my legs wheel in the air.

After the madness and might of winter
it’s the spring when woozy wasps wander bemused
flit from flowers to flowers, dizzy and frenzied
and make love, roaming, roving and rambling.
As the flowers attain ecstasy and they flaunt in self-esteem 
a rapturous delight, nascent, peeps its head somewhere inside me. 

There is liveliness and music in the air, everywhere.  
Birds in the woods are singing and babbling as in an ensemble.
My home garden springs with colours and bird songs
and it sets my heart and thoughts on fire, hard to douse.  
 
Great is the brilliance of lilacs, lilies, roses and others.
I witness their evolution, their renewal, their joy, 
that makes me surmise upon the power of creation  
and my womanly instinct burgeons in its confined contours. 
.
Heaven comes down to earth 
a transition from lifelessness to liveliness
triggering a springtime memory, sublime.  
It’s spring in my mind too, an impulse for renewal,
a momentum earning might in its own right
and I succumb to its incendiary pull.   
***

Bio: Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual poet and novelist and an author of more than   40 books.  Her poems, book reviews, short stories and articles have been published in national/international journals and   anthologies.  One of her poetry collections has been translated into French.   Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail.  A book of critical essays and research papers on her poems   has also been published.  She is the recipient of many awards.

Pankajam Kottarath (Voices Within 2023)

Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual poet and novelist and an author of more than 40 books. Her poems, book reviews, short stories and articles have been published in many national/international journals and anthologies. One of her poetry collections has been translated into French. Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail. A book of critical essays and research papers on her poem titled “Poetic Oeuvre of K Pankajam” has also been published. She is the recipient of many awards.

 

 

Like Ripples on water…

Uttering an unreceptive word

knowingly or unknowingly

create ripples of gloom in affable hearts

while stirring emotions bring bouts of tears.

 

You may forget all about it quick

But its pulls and burns intensify

inside my heart

that never expects such flagrant disgraces

make it spin tales of invented impacts

inflated at times, not to dispute

and it acquires strife

much like a pebble dropped in the water

making little waves circling and circling

that grow bigger and bigger

slowly and steadily

to create strong waves, unprecedented.

 

No way to stop them

nor find out the point of consummation

and the water turns turbulent losing its peace

much like humans perhaps

yet the river quickly regains its stature

but I can’t.

Maybe this disappointment and despair

make my heart learn to accept adversities

paving the way for mustering courage.

 

That is when I realize there is nothing to lose,

and I enjoy total freedom.

 

Between Light and Shadow

 

Daunting shadows on a moonlit night

pause as dancing puppets,

guided by invisible threads.

Shadows have a promise to keep,

an unwritten affirmation to light

to be always on its side, or stay behind.

 

When the moon peeks through my window

darkening sky wears a deafening silence

echoes of which resonate throughout life.

Fight your silence, I plead;

Great things command constant pains to crack.

 

Looking beyond I realize

something is hidden from my sight

Still, I can see the glow of life emerging bright

between light and the shadows.

 

Perhaps a hide and seek game is on

in nature’s patio, perfectly synchronized.

Who am I to barge in or shove through.

Maybe one’s inner light can guide.

 

Until the hazy wings of darkness

veil me permanently

let me choose to illuminate my path

not allowing obscurity to gain might

suppressing the shadows of doubt beneath

for the in-between path is open and free.

 

 

Behind the Mask

 

This smile is my unique mask

to hide away all my miseries

pains, tears and fears that rip at my gut.

It’s a conscious veil I wear, opaque

that allows to show no signs of flaws.

 

It doesn’t denote disguise, deception or defense.

Neither it carries fetid intentions to con

nor a tryout to justify faults.

You may label it as a perennial sin, but not

for it’s a means effective, apparently plain though,

to gel and perfectly fit in the assemblage.

 

There hides a child in me wanting to be heard,

have fun, dance around fire and weave fantasy tales.

Hiding cheeks or shading eyes is not in its aim

But the adult in it outgrows to suppress its innate ways.

 

It’s the best ornament I ever own and wear

to hide away my hurts and sidestep barriers.

To quell my fears, a loving glance is enough

and when your arms envelop me tight

I need to discard this mask,

remove this outershell and be myself.

PANKAJAM KOTTARATH, INDIA

K Pankajam
Ms. Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual poet and novelist and an author of 37 books. Her poems, book reviews, short stories and articles have been published in many national/international journals and anthologies. One of her poetry collections has been translated into French. Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail. A book of critical essays and research papers on her poem titled “Poetic Oeuvre of K Pankajam” has also been published. She is the recipient of many awards. 


SILENCE OF THE SOUL

I may be poor, but I’m not deprived of thoughts 
I may not be vocal, but my heart is brimming with words 
Look into my eyes and read my mind, can you?
If you do, I will say you are my platonic friend.
Can you imagine the intensity of my dreams? 
They are deeply carved in my soul, crush them not.
 
I can hear the silence of the fading day,
The wails of the falling leaves
I see the craving of the receding waves
And the songs of the hissing wet winds in summer rains, 
but the silence inside me is not always silent.
It’s loud and rambling at times
which you can’t scale or measure.
It has its own ups and downs, 
unseen, unknown, unawares.
 
The lightning before thunder is bright
Similar to my joys or sorrows suppressed
I may not express things, they lay dormant
till an opportune time emerges in handy. 
Still silence is an ocean to be delved in,
for in its depths lay treasures too many. 

Poetry: K Pankajam

K Pankajam

The Powerful Dominion

 

Small glass jars with  colourful powders sit majestic

crowned with smiles they make people crave for food

They are like cosmetics that make an average girl elegant.

Their smell leaps and twirls, makes my kitchen aromatic. 

 

Sambar splashed with mustard, fenugreek and curry leaves

with red chilly in coconut oil make one gasp deep, stir appetite.

Simple rasam with pepper, cumin and turmeric keeps corona under check.

But be aware, spices can also mask the taste of rotten foods.

 

The humble ravakesari is  delicious in  taste and smell,

cardamom plays the magic, drowning tongues in a sea of saliva.

Jaggery banana chips with dried ginger powder is great to munch

So also pazhampori, the king of snacks, don’t miss to taste it.

 

My grandma using firewood cooked mouth-watering dishes in  earthen pots

My Mom challenged our taste buds  using iron kadais on kerosene stove  

But my culinary skills can’t match with those dainty dishes even with  modern machines.  

I fear the future generations might do away with kitchen for processed  foods.

 

Life fast, costs high, sustenance hard, work time longer, no time to live,    

Adulteration, fast foods and junks snuff out  lives  untimely

Wish people realize this and be contented with least comforts, no luxuries .    

And awareness bring light to the people to consume healthy food.  

 

What goes down our gullet decides our health and welfare

Not too spicy, not too oily, the cook is the king of the dominion.

The art of cooking is like the art of living,  and kitchen,  the throne. 

To take the good and drop the bad is for us to decide.  

 

Rasam = soup made with tamarind, tomatoes, spices and aromatic herbs
Ravakesari = made from rava,  sugar, cardamom, ghee, saffron and dry fruits.
Pazhampori = prepared from ripe banana just like bajji.

 

 

A Smacking Snack

If one has to blame my taste buds 

please wait; I bet, the sight 

of the crispy orange delicacy 

just makes my mouth watery

invites me to try its tang 

and you can’t blame me

if my hands try to grab it.

 

What a pleasure to munch it

that makes one’s taste buds content! 

Besan flour with green chilies 

form a delicious blend 

to make one salivate.

Forget your medical charts for a while

and help yourself with some.

Ms. Pankajam K, India (Winging through Gloom: Poetry of Hope and Recovery)

K Pankajam
Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual poet and novelist and an author or more than 30 books.  Her poems, book reviews, short stories and articles have been published in many national/international journals and   anthologies.  One of her poetry collections has been translated into French. Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail.  A book of critical essays and research papers on her poem   titled “Poetic Oeuvre of K Pankajam” has also been published. She is the recipient of many awards.  
 

FRESH FRAGRANCE  

A bird in the woods speaks to me in my dreams
It hops from trees to trees chirping and chortling
Oh Men, your invisible chains are untied now.
Come to the open and enjoy the fresh fragrance of life.

Can’t you see the buds of hopes and recovery waiting to blossom
the roots of pains and hurts becoming dry and uprooted 
the gloom becoming gloomy and healing waiting to heal
or the brighter and better days in store for us to revel life in glee?

Let the dozing senses in each cell wake up and fight
bring love, light and peace to the hearts that bleed
the drowsy souls get out of slumber to write songs of hopes  
and the entire universe bask in the warmth of the new sunshine. 

As long as hope reigns, recovery is at our beck and call  
We shall recuperate, cleansed and purified; future is promising.
No masks on faces, let the smiles return to our faces 
Step out without fear, hugs and handshakes to return.

Push aside the hoarding memories stuck to the cellars
Welcome tomorrow’s dawning with dreams of hues heavenly
Keep your heart out of the melancholic clouds that crowd
And let’s together reinvent the fresh fragrance of life. 


Revisit: What's New, What's Old? (Pankajam Kottarath)

K Pankajam

The Fuel of Hope


When the year goes into the fold of past
It’s time to discard things driving you mad 
To make the new year, a real good start. 
Expect nothing less than total fulfilment
Complete contentment, health and happiness 
No compromise on any premise whatsoever.

Things might have let you down in the past
They shouldn’t hold you back from making fresh efforts
They are glib, ephemeral or fragile unless you trust otherwise
And will ebb away like returning waves before your grit 
Victory is for those who doesn’t accept failures
You don’t really fail until you accept failure.

All beginnings are opportunities to evade old mistakes
And start on things afresh without the scars of yesterdays
Without the shadowed perceptions from past experiences
As on a clean slate sans insane or unfounded worries.

The darker days are over, sunlight is about to invade
A new dawn waits with promises great
Let not old worries echo in your heart
Forget the past pains, embrace the present
It’s time to reinvent yourself and believe;
You deserve much more happiness and peace.

Let not your voice lose in the sea of fallacies 
Instead start on things that please the you in you
Dive deep into your soul’s green valleys 
To see the shimmering starry view of the rising sun
Electrify your affable winning spirits and kindle your courage
Latent under passive thoughts, hold nothing back.
 
Hopes are the fuel that keeps us going  
Let it burn with positivity and persistence 
Ignite the lamp of your wisdom, let it revel bright
And make your days brighter and better.
 
***
Bio: Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual poet and novelist and an author or more than 30 books. Her poems, book reviews, short stories and articles have been published in many national/international journals and anthologies. One of her poetry collections has been translated into French. Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail. A book of critical essays and research papers on her poem titled “Poetic Oeuvre of K Pankajam” has also been published. She is the recipient of many awards.

Women Poetry: Ms. Pankajam K, India

Exclusive: Women Poetry: Edited by Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy
K Pankajam
THE VIOLATOR AND THE VIOLATED

Medusa, the maiden, saw only dead men
she left her legacy to the women in the world, not wholly.
Countless victims like Asifa in Kathua
with no vipers on their heads
could not make men stony in one look.

Poseidon, the violator 
made Athena’s temple impure, with his sin  
and his numerous cohorts  
continue to celebrate his heroism even today.

Violator is not at fault, violated is
and she was slayed with Athena’s Shield!
Seaweeds in red sea turned into corals, they say,
getting sprinkled with the blood of Medusa,  
All seven oceans are soon to turn red with corals.

Medusa, the monster became the epitome of female fury
The tale may be old, facts not; they are fresh and true.
Let the violated acquire the powers of Medusa 
Let’s hold aloft the victims’ rights, not their heads.
***


MORTAL TO IMMORTAL

Beauty is a blessing to women
It might turn a curse too.
Medusa the mortal Gorgon, no exception. 
Eye of Sea God fell on her, 
her astonishing beauty, her fault. 
Athena could also not stand the beauty of her priestess.
For making love in the temple
Goddess made her awful with tangled snake hair,   
but gave power to make men stoney in a stare
with her snake-like pupils and green eyes. 
Was it a curse or a blessing? Indeed, the latter,  
for men could not go near her
and she became the protectress of women 
Looking at her reflection in the mirror  
Perseus when beheaded her, that too in sleep,
the cowardice proved the power of Medusa,
the symbol of female power became immortal. 
***

Pankajam K is a bilingual poet and novelist.  Her poems, book reviews and articles have been published in many journals and   anthologies.   She has to her credit twenty-four   books; fourteen books of poems, a translated poetry collection in French, & three fictions in English.   Three books on literary criticism discuss her works in detail.  A book of critical essays and research papers on her poem   titled “Poetic Oeuvre of K Pankajam” has also been published.  She is the recipient of many awards such as Rock Pebbles National Literary Award. 

The World Hero

K Pankajam
“Let my countrymen live in harmony and peace
Caste, religion, ups and downs, all cause unrest, my motherland sobs
Peace, a fruit hanging high, liberty and fraternity under threat
Divide and rule, the invaders warped plan; Swaraj my birth-right; I’ll fight for it 
Every inch of my heart throbs for my motherland, 
Oh, Inner Light; Lead me to the path right”, prayed Gandhiji.
 
In power of positivity you believed, live and let live, your mantra, sacred, 
no injustice or hatred; brotherhood, peace and non-violence you spread,
thro’ fasting and non-cooperation freed India from shackles age-old 
bombs or bullets can’t build brotherhood you believed.
 
Our tricolour flutters high, we bow before you, Father of the Nation, 
As a global leader your own life is a book of morals. 

Kneeling and bending before you, Godse when pulled the liver thrice
Extinguished was not alone your life, India’s unity too.
Despite pain, you prayed for your assassin to forgive for his sin. 
What more is required to prove the virtuous divinity in you?
***

Bio: Pankajam Kottarath is a bilingual writer who writes poetry and fiction in English and Malayalam. She has created an enviable space among the well-meaning Indian English Writers, especially women. She has authored 13 books of poetry in English, out of which one has been translated into French, three books of English fiction and five books in Malayalam. She is settled in Chennai now and pursue creative writing. She retired as the Deputy Manager (Finance) from BHEL and is prominent and profound in the world of letters. Her poetry and fiction explore and deal with the significant issues that face, mould and shape up human life for a vibrant movement to fulfil its purpose and realize its meaning. Pankajam’s poems, articles and reviews are often published in the renowned national and international journals and included in anthologies of poems/short stories and books of critical essays and the History of Contemporary Indian English Poetry. She has been decorated with many awards and prizes and presented her poems at various Literary Festivals. The critics and scholars have rapidly recognized her creative writing worthy of further research for studies and a book of critical essays and reviews is being published shortly.


Pankajam Kottarath, INDIA

Exclusive: Best of Women Poetry: Edited by Padmaja Iyengar-Paddy
K Pankajam
CAGED BIRDS SNORT

Caged birds crave for freedom to court
They don’t chortle or sing, but snort
to say protection is not by prisoning.
Their mumbling moans reach my ears.

Make me a crow to cleanse the society of all filths,
an eagle to strip away humanity’s stinking sores
or an owl to stay awake during nights to evade evils
and then I will sing like a cuckoo to celebrate life.

Words are my soul’s romance with God.
Wish I use it with purpose and positivity.
They tell me they can do much more
than I think what they can.

Thoughts are the batons
to cross the ocean of ignorance
Let’s find out our own batons and rise
like a phoenix from the ashes of our dreams.

A squeaking fledgling gets fed first
Like a crying child, milk.
Women, we are born to live, not just to exist.
Let our voice be loud and clear.

If sorrows are our cousins
Joys are our soulmates,
let them come and go as guests
they can’t be staying with us for long.



Pankajam Kottarath, retired from BHEL as Dy Manager/Finance, is a bilingual poet and novelist living in Chennai.  She has to her credit, 19 published books including 11 books of poems, one translated into French, 3 fictions in addition to poems, book reviews, short stories and articles published in journals/anthologies.  Three literary criticism books discuss her poetry viz., ‘Femininity-Poetic Endeavors’ by Dr VVB Rama Rao; History of Contemporary Indian English Poetry-An Appraisal’ by PCK Prem; Socio-Cultural Transition in Modern Indian English Writing & Translation by RK Bhushan Sabharwal.   She is a recipient of   awards such as Rock Pebbles National Literary Award 2019, Cochin Litfest Poetry Prize 2019 and ISISAR International Essay Competition Award.


Best of Women Poetry -2020 :: Setu, March 2020

K. Pankajam, INDIA

NEXT TO THE CREATOR                     

While the moon sits just under the clouds
and chilly wind rocks the trees,
swaying to the flow of some splendid melody
hidden within the pounding percussion of hearts
he and she both having vowed to be together
a sacrament for life, in the real sense
each hunt treasure in the other, fervent,
in the oldest game on earth,
at the end of which she hides it within herself
while he remains a slice of the pleasure
around the enchanting curve of her spine
gobbling every pleat of her body.

She willfully trains her mind and body
to seek pleasure in pains, in all intensity,
considers it as her absolute chunk,
prepares to shed pride in her pretty build
the size and shape of it till then she fostered,
processes her blood to turn into white,
gives up sleep while others eschew hatred
and truly her sacrifices get rewarded
having placed next to the Creator.    

BEING A WOMAN

In quiescence I preach;
I take pride being a woman,
would like to look feminine
with sweet shyness and blushing cheeks,
yet blanket my feminine trails
like the ‘touch-me-not’ leaves
annoying compliments don’t enslave me. 

Melanin in skin decides one’s attributes
soft rhythm in trots accentuates traits
my body is a temple of nurturing powers
none assigned with rights to relegate it.

I wish to admit my mistakes, 
to show my strength through it and grow,
not a weakness it is, I counter,
Don’t take for granted, or brand me timid.

I want to be everything,
nothing at all at the same time
be smart, but not appear smarter than you 
in your guess precisely, not to hurt your ego,
maintain peace between us is my motto
as we travel together between life and death.         
           
I want to be independent,
be on my own to boost my confidence,
not that I do not need you,
you can be the shade I embrace to be in light
like the maple leaves to the butterflies in rain.        

We are different, but no discrimination
mutually reliant we are, none superior.
You and I are fed with the same milk
both at birth, and after death too.


*AGNI PAREEKSHA

Time slips by and I get digressed at times
putting down my thoughts then and there
or attaining my plans as charted
with your silly conduct
outwardly innocuous, but conscious
but it never affects those inscribed in my brain
and I believe, swear and reaffirm
it gives me a firm grip on the sands of time
makes me more balanced, matured and perfect
for which I should thank you.

Robbing of riches can be easy
invisible wealth of words, not.
Like a bouncing ball
the more you suppress,
with more power I bounce back.
Energy that drains out in my body  
gets crowded in my heart and soul
and it multiplies with every smudge of abuse.
Like malleable metals hardened by heat
your trials by fire only make me tough.
And I want you to realize:
What I strive for is what I am slated for.

* Agni Pareeksha=Trial by fire

                       

K. Pankajam, Dy. Manager/Finance (Retd.), BHEL, is a bilingual poet and novelist, writing in English and Malayalam.  She has eighteen books to her credit, including ten poetry collections, one of them translated into French.  She is one of the editors of the journal ‘Teesta Review’.  Her articles, poems, book reviews/papers have been published widely and anthologized. Her poetry has been discussed in detail in the book ‘Femininity-Poetic Endeavours’. She is the recipient of Oriental Poetry Award 2016, Rabindranath Tagore Award for Poetry International 2017 and 2018, Poiesis Award for Short Stories International 2017, 2018 and 2019 and Shree Atal Behari Vajpayee Award 2019.  She has also been conferred the Rock Pebbles National Poetry Award 2019 that she will receive at the Rock Pebbles Poetry Fest on 07 April, 2019 at Bhubaneswar, India.