Kula Deivam and the Act of Returning

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Kunnathur, rebuilt — familiar, and not. When I was growing up, I spent most summers with my grandparents and extended family. My maternal side was based in Pudukkottai, my paternal side in Gobichettipalayam—Gobi, for short—in Tamil Nadu. Like most families, ours has since scattered, pulled toward larger cities and better livelihoods. The structure is new. The pull is old. Back then, our visits were unremarkable in the best way. We stayed home. Visitors came and went through the day. When we were in Gobi, there was one outing we never missed: a visit to our kula deivam at Kunnathur, about twenty-five kilometers away. We would pile into a van or a bus, pack food, and set out like an informal family pilgrimage—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, all together. My paati would make sweet pongal and offer it to Goddess Angala Parameswari, an avatar of Parvati. There were no restaurant...
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Limericks

In a town lived a bull dog,
Which always tried to hog,
And when caught in dark,
Always tried to force a bark
That left everyone agog!!

From rags to riches we rise,
And still not forget our ties,
Lone were your sad times,
No one to give you any dimes,
But we all know time flies!!

Life is not any fun,
When all you have is nun,
Enjoy life without the fizz,
Too boring without the Miss,
Until you find the right one!!

I once upon a time read a book,
Which was about a highway crook,
For the sake of love did he live,
He always had lots of things to give,
And he got in return not a look!!

I was in search of a girl,
To change my life with a twirl,
There was only one face,
Who could change my pace,
But she was caught in a whirl!!

In Germany I missed a lot,
What it was I knew not,
To search back home was the lure,
For what I still wasn't sure,
With that I fell back on my cot!!

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