This is the post excerpt.



This is Vaikavi Velusaravanan from Pondicherry, India..

I would use this page to pen down my thoughts and views.😀😀


All I need

All I need is my poem

To effortlessly shatter and dissolve the invisible hot-cold bubbles of pain ;

To add reason and optimism to cherish my scar with rationality;

To resurrect after a deep-rooted longing and loneliness

Like Phatik* did at the affectionate glance of his mother;

To have my metaphysical presence in the fragrance of petrichor

Sink my legs into the swift flow of silver water on a lichen covered deep blue-black rock

To dearly love the ocean and the music ;

To precisely personify my imaginary lover –

And not worry about his non-existence ;

To accept hard truths and not deny beautiful falsehoods;

To make money to feed myself-

Or spend the day of starvation covering up my hunger;

To feel my presence and find enormous self-love!

(*Phatik is a character from Rabindranath Tagore’s short story ‘Holiday’ or ‘Homecoming’)

The Magnet the Voice had

The lover of the human voices

Walked through the valley where the waterfall and the river met.

Amidst the rustles, chirps, waves and mixed fragrances,

Heard that voice come behind a camera

The voice lover gave poetic animations and personifications to every voice she loved;

But that voice sounded like a beautiful mystery drawn by acoustics,

The process of solving it seemed emotionally attackable to the scientific mind.

The restlessness of not getting pictures for the sound

Made a huge vacuum between her and the world

The augmenting restlessness and the resulting ignorance drew her towards the photographer …

She gradually figured out words amidst the voice,

The restlessness vanished and the previous charm appeared in no time!

She got his camera and started clicking pictures

With his brilliantly crafted camera

Realising that the startling soothing vibrations in her mind

And the expressions she made on her face

Were the descriptions of the voice!


Bitter Truths

Physics talks about the beginning and the end of time. One old pal and me had a great friendship which witnessed both ;though the universe might be yet to experience the second one. She came to visit me after school. She would walk with me to every place I went. She even maintained the same pace with me. I would delightedly watch her float with me in the dark blue sky when I travelled in the bus. When I didn’t find her some day, I thought she needed some rest. Our friendship broke bitterly on that science class on the Solar system. 

I thought water washed away every dirt on the vessels, vegetables and fruits. I was shocked when I learnt that both the fluid and the article had millions of organisms and dirt which are only visible through the microscope. 

I had been believing that only the wrong suffered and were punished till I started understanding news in the television and the newspapers . It was then I came to know that sometimes it can also be the other way round. It was a great heart-break for me when social science taught me that India was ruled by the British for hundreds of years. Learning about colonialism and dictatorship was a greater shock. 

Such bitter realities come to light sometimes in the passage of time! Anyways; bitter truths are better than ignorance…

World Photographer’s day

Albert Korda’s picture​ “Guerrillero Heroico” , of the then 31 year old hero of every soul which grieves with pain at  injustice comes to my mind at the first thought, this day. This epic picture of Che Guevara remains and will remain in the T-shirts and the hearts of youngsters around the world.

Guerrillero Heroico

Photographers are one of the fewest members of the society who travel with every natural and artificial thing existing in the world. The photographer’s work fuses with every new invention or discovery. The lens which was first used as a drawing aid, now pictures the organelles of the cell and the qaurks and neutrinos of the atom. The photographer’s skill imbibes into the satellites and brings pictures from the extra – terrestrial space. 

The strangest species existing in the wild first embrace the photographer. Photographers travel with the life of the diverse cultures existing in the corners and angles of every street. They amplify the emotions existing deep into the minds of people. They understand the pain and  thirst of mankind, and remain as the tool for change.

Picture by Michael Kenna

Pictures are the only means of time travel till date. They may not take us to the physical location but never fail to let us sink into the emotions and the atmosphere existing in them.

The Dinosaur

One fine day, on a hot sunny weather,

A dinosaur which was a black-white archaeopteryx 

Entered the city of California.

The dinosaur was wild – wildly techy!

Two great tech men in the city caught hold of it-

They managed to collect its brain waves.

It had a larger brain than what humans had,

The waves were stronger and more powerful !

The creature, owing to the absence of the sixth sense

Did not know how to put it into use…

The tech men created a human robot out of it!

They incorporated it into every gadget that existed,

The robot opened up jobs to more than quarter of the world.

Evolution took place in the brain waves of the archaeopteryx

Even in this so-called oxidising atmosphere.

The robot started understanding people,

The robot could understand and illustrate the whole world.

At one point the archaeopteryx died

The robot left hold of the animal

It did not need its waves anymore.

The robot grew intellectually and mathematically everyday!

Like any art, The robot is never going to die

As it is fed and nurtured everyday with human intelligence!

(On the evolution of Android)

The painter

A man with a typical pedlar like attire 

Once lived in the dirty corners of the town.

He got nuts by the words thrown at him during the first times ;

Later, he got used to them…

His wife was made fun of in the women circles,

She always shouted at him everyday.

He couldn’t bring much money home

He always said the truth –

Which were never believed to be true.

He had a kind heart

Everyday he sat on the streets

Glanced at the street beggar’s half-broken vessel;

He paid attention to the pale green haired singer’s song when others paid coins .

Most of his friends were people with tough life miseries

He had three children at home : a little boy and two girls

They wore simple clothes, went to a public school

The man perhaps went to school till 8th grade- he didn’t remember that !

He worked as a watchman in a government building- 

That’s how he fed his family.

One fine day he decided to paint whatever he felt

He bought papers and paint 

He painted everytime he felt sad, everytime he felt happy

His paintings gave him relief more than tears –

Cheer more than applause!

He painted till he became old and died.

A rich man bought all his paintings from his old feeble wife fascinated by them!

His children grew up

His paintings were placed in a grand museum…

They were spoken about in all the corners of the town

His grandson stood before the painting completely fascinated

Not knowing the painter …


I have been madly wanting to go to Paris since time and even now I am yearning for a chance ; like when I was little, I wanted my dad to buy me that world map which a man was selling when we were on our usual promenade on the Goubert Avenue…

Maupassant makes me love Paris even more. He carries me to Seine in my dreams and compels me to have my physical presence there. He makes me want to buy fish in Paris ; and creates a beautiful scenic night sky in Paris in my thoughts. 

Paris is where even the sky is colourful ; every street has paintings and every building is a monument. Paris loves theatres ; Paris loves artists. Paris wants it’s air to be filled with music. Paris respects tears. Paris cherishes smiles .Paris is ready to embrace anyone with lost charm .Paris has clowns in hospitals… 

When Paris applauds, artists smile with pride

When Paris is attacked , it rises spreading an intellectual momentum to the rest of the world. When its people were subjugated , Paris taught revolution to the commoner -Paris cried “Liberty , Equality and Fraternity”.

Paris celebrates love. Paris has white lilies all around. Paris has amazing food. Paris makes eternally fragrant perfumes.Paris is my childhood sweetheart, perhaps!! When pronounced in French, Paris sounds even more beautiful…

I want to have myself painted by one of the artists in streets of Paris. Want to watch a street play , listen to music and meet clowns in Paris atleast once in a lifetime!