Woman of hope and healing – Mother Teresa

She said someone more simple and humble will appear

To serve the world,

The world still waits for that saint to appear and inspire

After the demise of that flame of hope


Once she said she had a “call within a call” that made her

The mother of the whole world

A great humanitarian in the midst of terrorism and its turmoil

In quest of peace and love


Her heart was the home for the homeless, balm for the wounded

An incarnation of selfless service

Kind words and deeds of love were her weapons to fight

With the diminishing human morale


Many awards bestowed to honour her, but the greatest of all

The place she occupies in our heart

Not as a messenger of any religion but as an apostle of merciful love

The ‘Saint of the Gutters’


For ever she will remain in our thoughts as the greatest but simplest

Mother of poor and needy

Amidst many baseless views, still echoes her heart’s message of love

Untainted and undaunted

The warrior saint

When darkness spreads the sun rises to lighten

When drought strains rain pours to enliven

When a devil reigns a saint emerges to dethrone

When we plead and pray, God indeed heeds


There was a time Hinduism drained and strangled

Smothered by many alien norms and notions

Spiritual devastation everywhere, India was at stake

In time appeared a shooting star; a warrior saint!


Peerless he stands towering as saint of saints

Even centuries gone, still a sparkling flame

Inflaming every aspiring soul to arise and awake

A roar that echoed; a ‘very lion among men’


As simple as nature and as fierce as a storm

As calm as an ocean with whirling waves inside

As loving as a mother and as tireless as a soldier

As versatile as a god man; as exuberant as any human


His writings still vibrate kindling thousands to action

His soul still lingers enthusing dauntless daring souls

His life was short but still lives within every proud Indian

His impact is worldwide withstanding all disparities


God is within you, and you are the greatest temple,

‘Faith in oneself’, and he who lacks it, is an atheist,

Fortune is like a flirt, remain a master to enslave it,

We want strength and strength only; to fight misery,

All through his life he practised what he preached


Swami Vivekanada ‘A tonic to the repressed Hindu’

A fighter who conquered the world with his sword

A sword of his own mould, of patience, purity and perseverance

An eternal source of ‘self-respect, self-reliance and self-assertion’


Proud I feel as never before to say ‘I am an Indian’


Woman is a Boon

Heated discussions and debates still held relentless
The battle between the sexes ever fresh and endless
She is Easwar’s one half and made of Man’s back bone
Still she fights for equality, though she knows she is unique

She is like a flower, emitting the hues of love and care
Nothing is as enticing as her beauty, so sensuous and soft
Her heart is a honeyed nest of varied intense emotions
But many withers in waste as not well nurtured and nourished

She is like a lamp, brightens your life if let to shine and glow
She is multi-powered, even flames as sun tireless if required
Like a candle melts and merges, if enshrined in your hearts
But never cage her in a pot to flicker, it wipes off her vitality

So similar to mother earth in patience and forbearance
Like a river impeding sorrows and imparting happiness
Serene as breeze, fierce as storm and whirly as wind
Her mind deeper than oceans and vaster than the sky

She cooks for you and hooks you with her passion
She confuses you but induces you with her thoughts
She falls in love and hails you as her prince charming
She mothers you and cheers you by her pampering

Men and Women, better not to think of them apart
If she is a poem he is the lyrics, just need to be tuned
If she is the music he is the maestro playing her well
If she is life he is her breath, together they exist
She is your ‘Sakthi’, be pious she keeps you poised
Beware she is ‘Kaali’ too; the strings are in your hands only!!!

A musical spring-M.S

The sun sublimes his rays and the birds subside
Even the humming wind stops, to echo that voice
It is human yet divine, earthly but immortal
Enters through your ears and touches your soul
Day or night, spring or winter, joy or sorrow
It Seasons you with its sonorous sweetness

Our days are auspicious if dawn with her ‘Suparabatham’
Our worries wiped off by her mellifluous melodies
Our spiritual thirst quelled by her devotional Bajans
Our artistic throb answered by her technical perfection
NO wonder!! She was a goddess incarnate, a singing angel

Her face was gracious like a bloomed lotus
Her voice flowing and flawless like nightingale
Her music a perfect blend of devotion and emotions
Her life a saga of spiritual quest and graceful humility
Her mind an embodiment of divinity and compassion
Blessed are we to have Devi Saraswathi herself with us

She sang from her soul, so now she lives in our souls
When others have fans she has enchanted devotees
It was almost six decades of musical enrichment
Global was her reach and fame, as a fabulous musician
But typical Indian woman in her outfits and outlook
Music was in her blood and breath, the very core of her being

Excellent music rendered from heart that was her class
Enabling even the commons to inhale the nectar of heavenly music
That little Kunjamma lives ever peerless and matchless
“She carries veena in her throat’ so aptly and truly defined
Praises in abundance and honours so many to garland
“Kurai Onrum illai” if we were to have such legends among us

Suswaralakshmi Subbulakshmi,” this humble devotee’s pranam