Dr. Ezhil Vendhan
Dr.Ezhil Vendhan is a celebrated poet from India. Some of the international honours he has been bestowed are ‘World Laureate in Literature 2017’ by World Nations Writers’ Union, ‘Fellow of the Regal World of Scribes’ and ‘The Enchanting Muse Award’ by the Writers Corner, India during the World Poetry Festival held in India in October 2017 apart from many Awards and Titles to his credit. He writes in English and Hindi besides, in his mother tongue Tamil. He is author of two published poetry collections and many of his poems find place in many International Poetry Anthologies.
The poem entitled ‘Banyan Tree’ is an acclaimed masterpiece of Dr.Ezhil Vendhan’s writings. Its original version was in Tamil Language and it was selected as the best Tamil Language poem during the Multi -Lingual Poets Symposium 1995 held in New Delhi in conjunction with the Indian Republic Day. The poem has been translated into eighteen languages and simultaneously broadcasted around the world by the All India Radio channel on the eve of India’s Republic Day immediately after the Indian President’s official address to the nation. This poem was translated into Hindi by Bhasha and was later published at the Central Hindi Directorate of India. Later, it was translated into Kannada language and was published by the Karnataka Sahithya Academy in the magazine Aniketana.
The poems, ‘To be born a Woman’ and ‘River’ were translated from their original Tamil Language into Punjabi and Kannada languages. These translated versions were later published in the Kannada Literary magazine Aniketana which was launched by the Punjabi Sahitya Academy in Ludhiana along with the Central Classical Institute of Tamil Language. The poem ‘River’ in its original version was published in the magazine Tamilarasu by the Tamil Nadu Government, whilst the Kannada version was published by the Karnataka Sahithya Academy literary magazine of the Karnataka government. These accolades were given at a crucial point when there was a river water dispute existing between the Indian states of Tamil Nadu and Karnataka.
Another much said about poem is titled ‘St.Mother Teresa’ which was published by the official website of Saint Teresa. This poem, being the first depicting the wonder of the Saint Mother received admirations and compliments from the Missionaries of Charity head quarters during the centenary celebration of the Saint Mother. Furthermore, this poem written in Tamil was launched at the Symposium of Poets in October 1976 and broadcasted through the All India Radio Channel on 4th January 1977, during the college days of the poet. He lives in Chennai – India and can be reached at his email address firstname.lastname@example.org
An Ode to the Wind
Coming from where are you dear
embracing the heart allover
making all the hair follicles cool.
From the very creation of this universe
oh wind, everything only after you
define the earth’s face and keeps brace.
Wind is to touch the scalp and smells
even the mother has the option to kiss
at the first instance the baby born.
You were the first in the past
prime in the universe fast
rotating round still young afresh.
nothing stands still without your moves
no bump to the leaves buds un inclined
pollen would be frozen awaiting you.
Wow, I want to embrace you in full
impossible even if having thousand hands
how it be enough with only two hands.
You are my oxygen in my heart and soul
nothing but you with me compatible
survival without you is impossible.
Planet earth couldn’t be without water
world has been unique only with water
but without you no matter gives water.
I know well about all directions
you only decide my direction
and what is my destination.
Not only in the leaves, flowers and waves
to all that I feel you in amusing moves.
Everything has dimensions and imagery
you are the only reality shadow-free.
Nothing remains ever in vacuum
do not leave empty as you come.
filling out always in all ways.
When you touch and wake me up
feeling my shoulders like germination
as if wings are about to germinate on.
You come in the dawn as morning breeze
kiss my eye lids and ears spin and blows
awakening daily from deadly to resurrection.
Lessons learned a lot through you wind
as you are great the poetry spills from you.
Oh wind, come and blow
let your power flow.
Refresh my breath
stir my heart and spirit.
They are free verses
unmindful syntax errors
nothing as limitations.
Simple basic literary features
without forms and names.
enough in translation
as to grasp the meanings and feelings.
hit the heart’s chambers
recording the exact heart beats in words.
Word after word surge like river
letter and spirit precision in vibrations.
Nothing to make up
or beautify or even imagine
but mere realisation
expression of true feelings and sensations.
Many have been sent in velvets
some have become sculptures
never needs an emblem of state
a must and enough.
undelivered for many reasons
handed down to senders in ease.
Some letters of communication
decided the times
and the directions too.
One-time baby walk
for many litterateurs
no percussion instruments
or side effects.
emanates from heart to heart.
in itinerant breeze.
Flower Buds Charring in Flames
Oblivious of the future,
hidden inside the palms of hands,
those tender fingers
are lifting the begging bowls.
On attaining the age of puberty
parents deter their girls from outings.
Speaking of the women’s pride
and advising to veil their faces bodies
but girls are sent out as maids.
The arrogance of their poverty
crumbled the livelihoods
of down-trodden helpless poor.
Those young bloomers
are thrown into wealthy corridors.
Those are off-springs of labouring mass
lying on the streets
throats of righteousness strangulated
Disregarding the risk unraveled on the roads
mothers push their kids petal fingers
as to beg
towards the impatient motorists
waiting for traffic signals.
Rivers are not at fault for scarcity of water
it is not the destiny of misfortune.
But only mere human brutality and
prosecution of local administrators.
Education these days
is a bureaucratic baptism of knowledge.
Its doors shut to the have note’s
as to those choicest bloomers
who ought to learn alphabets and numbers
at the dawn, the time of grin
starting their day towards workshops.
Tender hands which could bring
trophies in sports and games
put into trash and toil hard.
The dainty fingers ought to take up the brush
and paint their thoughts
in rainbow colours
brushing the shoes to polishing gloss.
Flowers to bloom with new smile
sending its fragrance around the globe
locked in Sulphur warehouses
as burning sandal wood in fires.
Behind the drop of lights
drip at the stroke of match stick
sounds the lamentation of little birds
fallen into the pit of darkness.
In beautiful sparkling colours
of fancy crackers
light spills down
ut school drop outs’
Muted whispers of butterflies
echoing in the ear drums.
Petals of budding flowers
put on to charring flames.
The dreams of spring
trapped in their eyelids
have gone on fumes.
Identify those culpable
with their names.