Ripples…of the soul

By Chitra Srinivasan

Ripples… of the soul is a collection of poetry by Chitra Srinivasan. What makes it really interesting, is its simplicity and its ability to relate to the booklover.
Be it her depiction of children
“As you lay in the crib on a soft bed with tiny cushions I saw your small hands”

A butterfly
“In early spring bright wings a sea of flying color in a garden of flowers”

A busy marketplace
“The early morning rush, the train, the bus a crush”

Or the Train of Life
“The train of life when it arrives with its solitary passengers at the platform of death leaves behind memories that wither like flowers on a wreath”.

In this day and age when we are surrounded by the concrete jungle she takes the reader on a virtual trek through nature while sitting in the drawing room. Her description of death is an eye opener as it reveals the complexities of this unchangeable and final truth of our lives. Not to mention her narrative of life, which is equally engaging.

One poem that will particularly touch the reader's heart and connect with every reader is "My Granny." A grandmother is an indispensable part of our lives and this poem brings out in a very simple and charming manner the story of this wonderful woman. A truly appealing collection of verses wherein every poem will strike a chord with the reader.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Dec 15, 2015
• ISBN: 9789352065387

Book preview

Bean

The Sparrow

As I gazed out of the window

I espied a sparrow

Chirping tweeting

Merrily flying.

In and out of the dwelling

Small wings flapping

It flew carefree

Or so it seemed to me.

A closer look however

At the bird’s endeavor

Bared a system to the flight

As I soon found its intent.

On its flight into the suite

Hung a straw on its beak

That was tucked carefully

In a covert corner neatly.

Curious I watched as the sparrow

Flew in and out of the window

And busily peered around

Before securing the nest sheltered.

Straw by straw in built

The small cozy nest

A snug bed for its fledgling

That would soon be hatching.

The nest nestled among books

So cleverly in a nook

Where the eye could barely spot

This tiny habitat.

But my sharp eyes spied the dangling straws

And found they were ruining my precious books

And cruel as I was I dispensed with this work of art

When no bird was in sight.

My soul pinched by a twinge of regret

Was put to rest in a moment

Just a few eggs split to fragments

And some straws reduced to dust

But to my surprise, the sparrow returned

With straws on its beak ready to build

A new nest for its little one

To shelter from the elements.

And again it went through the motions

Of flying out and in

Bringing a straw one by one

To make a nest for its little one.

I was puzzled

Didn’t the sparrow understand?

It was not wanted in this place

So how was it setting up a nest in this house?

And once again I destroyed its home

Hoping that this time round

The sparrow would, intelligently

Look for another home for its baby.

But I was wrong

The sparrow was back at dawn

Its beak dangling with straws

All in a tangle, to delicately weave a lattice.

Removing straws, shooing the birds

Did not in any way deter

Their incessant flutter

Into and out of our quarters.

Though less than a span in size

The sparrow, I thought is very wise

‘Cause it pursued its intention

With single-minded determination.

And to me it dawned out of the blue

That whatever life offers, in whichever hue,

Hope the size of a straw on a sparrow’s beak

And singled-mindedness is all one needs

To build a nest of our hopes and dreams

In life and beyond.

The Cocoon

A caterpillar in a cocoon

Tired of its small confine

Yearned to fly out

And see the pretty sights

Of the wonderful world

And in anticipation

When Oh When

Will I fly out of this cocoon?

One fine day

The caterpillar became a butterfly

And soon emerged

In joy fluttered

Looking at the birds and bees

The flowers and the trees

The butterfly tasted the wonders of life

Outside the cocoon.

The butterfly flew

From bower to bower

Sipping nectar

From every flower

Making new friends along the way

Holding everyone in its sway

Feeling carefree and gay

The butterfly flew in abandon

Outside the cocoon.

As time passed the butterfly’s wings

Took on a new color and sheen

Growing in poise and confidence

It held its peers in a trance

Gliding through the air

In tune with the changing winds

A melodious sequence of song and dance

How lovely it was outside the cocoon!

Slowly, the butterfly, like a chameleon,

Changing colors, got proud and brazen

Its charm went flying out of the window

To be replaced by an inflated ego

Surrounded not by friends but flatterers

The butterfly now became vain

Losing all that it had gained

When inside the cocoon.

And as the sands of time wore on

A sense of boredom crept in

The wings now looked colorless

A little pale and lifeless

Though, still poised and ambitious

There was a feeling of weariness

A germ of a thought emerged

Was it worth leaving the cocoon?

Little by little the butterfly caved in

Lost and lonely among many

Its sense of direction gone awry

Now none was held in its sway

But fly it had to, in its own way

And then it again wondered about the haven

From where it had emerged, the cocoon.

The awareness then dawned

On the butterfly, by now enlightened

That the cocoon was the place

Where it had found space

To introspect on every aspect

And design a blueprint

For its movements and actions

In that dream place, the cocoon!

But then it was too late

And with a twinge of regret

Realized ‘twas no longer possible

To go back into that shell

Not at least physically

Into the solitude of serenity

Where only its voice could be audible

The quite safety of the cocoon.

Physically no… however, mentally?

Yes! That was an option surely!

This gave the distressed butterfly

Confidence