Who are They?

I think now that I am dry, I should perhaps make a translated post out of what I read in the Tamil blogs.

Here is a piece of Sujatha.

In Delhi, while I was riding back home in my scooter, there was a man lying in the middle of the road. I stopped to look at him, and found he was very much dead.The cars that come and go, they all hesitate, edge round the man in homage, and accelerate away. No one stopped. They never do. I noticed the porcelain phone at the house on the other side of the road, told them the news and got the advice, "Why do you bother? They will see to it"

Who are they?

via Balhanuman Blog

The Trees and Plants of His Home...

A poem I liked, and tried to bring over to English - Eppothum Pen.

An enmity has survived for two generations
between siblings.
The Men, when they come against one other,
throw a glare, and turn away.
The Women pass by,
their heads bowed down.
And the Children, when there is no one to note,
Share among themselves looks
that none recognise.


Enmity...
whether with purpose or not,
has in its branching hands,
flowers,
the sweetest of the fruits
that there be,
and for the father's rocking chair,
a shade
it extends across the partition wall:
the trees and plants of his home.

-Poem by R. Anuradha

(image credit: eyefetch.com)