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My name is Raamesh Gowri Raghavan

My name is Raamesh Gowri Raghavan. I am 26 years old. I live in Patanjali hostel, TIFR, Colaba. I have a house in Thane. My father and mother and sister live there. My father is a trader. He retired from the army. My mother is a housewife. My sister is a psychologist. Our dog's name is Puppysingh. He is a very smart retriever. I taught him many tricks. I am doing my PhD in TIFR. I was a JRF in Pune earlier. I did my MSc in Biology. I did my BSc in Microbiology. I want to become a scientist and a writer. My hobbies are reading and cycling. I like collecting stamps and coins. I like little fruitflies. And snakes and spiders and ants. I like writing poetry. I like writing short stories. I make up original plots. I like to write in my own style. I write about many things. I do not write about Malgudi. I AM NOT R. K. NARAYAN.

Names

"Remember Sundaram Mama’s Standing joke? “I retired from Godrej and Boyce. But wife didn’t retire from Godrej and Girls!” He told it everytime. Forty year’s service without a blot, Daughter married off to America groom. Or Venkatesan Mama in 25B? Left early and returned late To avoid the rush hour crowd. No children, and no regrets. Or Jayaram Mama? The one who secretly returned potatoes, Purloined by his wife. And Sita Mami? The one who would turn up After the poojai ended And take a whole flaskful of payasam? And Pankajam Mami? Sitting under the barren mango tree To extract gossip from passers by. I don’t blame you for not remembering. I had to make up their names To write this poem, for; I have forgotten the original ones. They were meant to be forgotten."

My second love poem

Dewdrops exist but for a moment and die with the morning Sun." The pearls of her laughter Those giggles, those blushes: Pangs of a first, intense love. Dewdrops. "The ant waits upon them for the water of life; Would not the heart?

My First Love Poem

This night I shall dream of you and potatos and rafflesia. This night as all nights, I long to kiss your tin-plated lips. In my dreams we fly on the dodo of love, skimming vast continents of postage-stamps and nostrils. The seas shall never separate our gins. Its waters wave like small bearded angels greeting us from afar. We shall feast on chocolate-coated bandana and tend to an exodus of love. Adorned in white silk, crown'd in cabbage mounted on an alligator, thou art my queen.

Turkmenbashi

More wood, more fire, More orgies! My power shall not stand Diminished in any way. The jewels in my crown, Those trophies of battle, That glory of being The Master of his men. The vile slavery of my serfs — shall I let go of it? More orgies, more food, More laurels to my power! Shall a mere tree come in my way? What shall I make my men do? Eat roots when they can have pheasant stew? That last tree shall give me wood, And they – those serving men – They shall chop it, and burn it. The cooking-men will stir the pots; The hunting-men shall find for me - Pheasants, and deer and turtles; The growing men shall bring me Wheat, and rice and cotton; The weaver-men, and the barber-men And the potter-men and other men, They shall all ply their trades. And I: I keep the peace among them, I throw them my table-scraps, And they shall be fed And be happy. They shall not murmur And swear oaths and secrets Or in any manner rise against me. No more wood be there to burn? What matter? We shall burn coal....

Thanksgiving

My parents - theirs are the hands that I hold to stand up. My school - what I am is because of my teachers. My doctor - he instills in me faith in human nature. My peers – they tell me what my place is. My friends - they are the sunshine that surrounds me. My dog - he has taught me compassion for all life. My city and community - they give me an identity. My country - its love of freedom gives me my voice. flowers and birds and butterflies - they fill my world with beauty. My creator – who gave me the gift of words. Words to sorrow in. Words to rejoice in. Words to say thanks in.

Adorned by Flames

Build me a city", said Al-Mansour, "One the world has never seen before, Greater than the spread of Al-Cairo, A city to rival Mecca's glow, Humble the might of Damascus, Tell the world that kings are us! Here where mighty rivers meet A thousand foes shall taste defeat; Constantinople, Rome and Greece Shall make with us ignoble peace! With stone and mortar wright a song Make me a city grand and strong" A thousand plans were made and torn; The king poured out unvarnished scorn. "The tortuous history of mankind With this place should be entwined When in their thousands fools will die Make this city the reason why!" The architect in his confusion Struggled to match his master's vision. In his eyes then shone a gleam In burning sands he saw a dream Three mighty walls; a golden dome For the greatest, it shall be home! "Plough me a circle three miles wide Fill it with charcoal, wood and hide. Furrow another outside it And then plough yet one more pit. Whe...