Sethu Ocean Project(TamilNadu, India)
To shorten the sea-trade route
and export goods and expand trade,
the stone-bridge across the Palk Straits
off the town of Rameswaram
needs to be cleared away.
But some superstitious men
trade tirade against the Project
and stop carrying on the work.
The stones might have been laid
in ancient days by the Tamil Kings.
But these religious bigots
argue with fictional stories
that it was built by Rama
with the help of Hanuman's forces.
Whoever could have built it
but what use the people have
within the sea the bridge to save?
When Katchativu Islands
where the Tamils catch fish,
were gifted to Lanka,
these leaders slept in Parliament.
When the lakhs of Tamils were killed
enmass by hurling bombs on them
in the war-torn Lanka,
these Indians were on a honeymoon!
But the Sethu Sea Project work
which would bring jobs and livelihood
to lakhs of workers and farmers
is blocked by a writ in court, citing
legends, myths and fancy tales.
The Chinese are fast in trading.
Their astute men and material,
their indigenous and electronic goods
have filled and spilled Australia.
See, our flustered ambassadars
prostrate before the Lankan leaders
to plead them not to be a host
to the agile Buddhist Chinese.
As the Pakistan demands Kashmir,
Lanka will stretch its hand
to Rameswaram, the temple town.
The Chinese would succour them
as they have formed a triangle
to feel the pulse of the brave Indians.
------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Related quotes
Veto-powered Membership in UNO
Some bigoted leaders heading some nations
sent shipments of arms to kill civilian Tamils
in the war-torn SriLanka ruled by inhuman Buddhists.
The Tamils are locked in a three-decades-war
with the brutal Sinhalese to free their Eelam soil.
Lakhs of Tamils were bombed en masse, and burnt alive.
Sites of mass-burials are strewn with corpses over.
The women and girls were raped, butchered and left to rot.
The Tibet-occupier China has supplied a chemical to Lanka
to hasten the decay of the fossils of the dead.
What is done in Tibet to capture the land
was carried out in a short time in Lanka.
Does Buddha, the God of the poor-folk, revel to see,
one-lakh war-widows in the Eelam land of Tamils?
Is the veto-powered membership of China in UNO
to annihilate the weaker races and nations?
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Be Loyal To The Native
Immigrants integrated with the natives,
have lost identity and enmity.
Immigrants segregated from the natives.
have kept identity and enmity.
Tamils not knowing their language in Mauritius
Live in harmony, getting no prejudice.
Tamils with Tamil intact in Sri Lanka
Live in tension with the majority.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The accustomed to are sweet.
Srilankan tamils aren’t comfortable
With Tamil accent of Tamils
As Indians are with the English of English.
The accustomed, though deformed, is sweet.
16.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tsunami Shock Size Of Blood Ivory Smuggling
Every last elephant
in Africa Asia
Extinction Elephant
is merely good
Chinese business
practice profit
trade Chinese
poaching saying
'There is no fish caught
without fished water' 90%
of Chinese ivory lacks
legal legitimate papers
tsunami shock horrific size
of blood ivory smuggling
China's illegal ivory trade
threatens extinction event
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Who Gave you Inhuman Rights?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the SriLankan army
to sever the heads of innocent boys
and set fire to the heaps of their corpses
at Mullivaikal and other places?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to rip the limbs of children,
the womenfolk and the old
and litter everywhere
for the vultures to eat or to rot?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to rape the wives of
the surrendered rebels
before their very eyes,
torture and kill them all?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to some mindless nations
to supply chemical weapons
to the brutal army of Lanka
to wage a genocidal war?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the shameless soldiers of Lanka
to maul and cut off the feeding breasts
and shoot at the sacred organs
of the women and the rebels?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to the morons born to strumpets,
to shut the women and girls
in fenced-camps, starve
and lure them with food packets?
Who gave the inhuman rights
to drive out the ailing Tamils
from their traditional lands
and colonise with roguish monks
and Sinhalese convicts and goons?
Who can deny rights to Tamils elsewhere
to wage a war against these criminals
when the UNO is blind to these violations,
as some vested interests and bigots
have a stake in this blood-stained soil?
---------
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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An open letter to the Cricket Board if it still exists
You must arrange a triangular cricket tournament
In between India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka in lankan grounds
And must be fair umpires to be present to catch the shy bowler.
*Dedication to my poet friend Jerry Hughes
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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My lifelong friend
[Sri Lanka raids office of pro-opposition news websites
Posted by Karthiyayini on June 30,2012 in Exclusive, Headlines, News, Sri Lanka · 0 Comments
Colombo, June 30 (TruthDive) : Media freedom has always been a huge concern in Sri Lanka. The country shows its ugly face yet again by showcasing it as one of the world's most dangerous countries for journalists.
An independently running and pro-opposition office of two news websites have been raided by Sri Lankan Police. The Police have arrested nine workers including the editor of one of the websites, searched the premises for about three hours on Friday and seized computers and documents.
A statement from government stated that the police officers had acted on a court order, searched and sealed off the office on Friday. The websites were said to be publishing flawed information and had put a ‘blot on Sri Lanka's image.'
The Opposition United National Party member Mangala Samaraweera said that the office had operated two websites - www.srilankamirror.com and www.srilankaxnews.com that belong to the party. He added that the nine arrested employees were released on bail after an appearance before a magistrate.
Samaraweera said that Friday's raid had been initiated as his party's website had uncovered corruption and other unlawful activity by the government.
Gnanasiri Kottigoda, who heads Sri Lanka Working Journalists Association, stated that the police action showed that the government has not ceased to harass and intimidate independent media institutions and journalists in Sri Lanka. He also opined that it is a step towards silencing the independent media groups in Sri Lanka.
The Committee to Protect Journalists said, in the year 2010, Sri Lanka was ranked as the fourth most dangerous country for journalists. Since the beginning of year 2006, at least 14 Sri Lankan media employees were said to have been killed, according to Amnesty International.
www.srilankamirror.com and four other websites were blocked by authorities last year over so-called character assassination, and the action is still in effect for four others.
www.srilankamirror.com went on to file a case in the Supreme Court after which the Telecommunication Regulatory Authority agreed to unblock the website on condition that it would not provide links to blocked or unregistered sites. Several media rights groups and other countries, including the United States had severely criticized the blocking of the websites by the Sri Lankan government.
To top it all, attacks on media men and media institutions either fail to get properly investigated or blocked, according to Reporters without Borders.]
I was born with you and since in the cradle
We crawled together.
It's not a bed of roses,
My bare-feet very familiar with the thorny painful streets.
Sometimes you hide in my eyes as tears
And often remain as a hug in my weeping heart.
You too starved in my difficult times
And you never betray me that's certain as death.
I realized that you never smile but I embrace you
From the bottom of my heart
And you are my lifelong friend, Sorrow!
nimal dunuhinga
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Everbusy Chinese!
The Chinese in shops work from dawn to dusk.
Quick they are with gadgets and selling things.
Good are their prawn cakes, fish soups and scents with musk.
All kinds of goods, their business brings
To the Aussie market, where they are the Kings.
From electronic to foodstuffs we find cheap
To help a juggler, a sharp knife, a girl flings
In the Fed.square and a big hand does she reap.
They imitate new things and in joy they leap.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Nothing Remains to Lose for Freedom
Half of the Tamils of Eelam in Srilanka
had fled and migrated to countries
where the people humane and rulers divine live.
The poor, old and the disabled totter there
to receive the cudgels and bullets from the Sinhalese.
The tigers who fought for freedom are no more.
The parents of the tigers got their limbs broken
or shot in day light before the scared and starved.
The womenfolk lost their virtue and killed themselves.
The young boys and girls are ostracized and disabled.
The lands of the Tamils are colonised with gangs of goons.
The Tamils have linguistic, racial and religious differences
from the Sinhalese who grabbed the reins from the British.
The idols of their deities demolished in desecrated temples.
The honour of the Tamils was annihilated
before the very eyes of the UNO which holds now polls
to decide their fate and change the blood-stained soil
where the soldiers raped the corpses of the women-tigers.
They have lost their land, men, wealth and honour.
What is there to lose more for getting freedom?
The members of the UNO are religious bigots except a few.
Will they vote in favour of the beleaguered Tamils in fences?
May the Lord open their minds to see the plight of the Tamils.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Culture Diffuses By Osmosis.
Tamils settled in Kerala
Feel shy to speak Tamil
And want to hide their race
From their tongue and looks.
.
Tamil Brahmins proudly use it.
They keep it as their mother tongue.
They speak, sing and dance in Tamil,
Generation after generation.
Tamils, save Brahmins, are held as black.
In a culture, inferior dissolves in the superior.
10.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Where Have You Gone, My Kin?
Where have gone these Asian tigers and Anopheles?
As the westerly winds blocked the breeze from the sea,
Chennai is sweltering at 43 degree celcius.
A thousand have fallen to sunstroke in the nearby State.
But where they are now, is a mystery?
They must have air-dashed to Swiss bank
to deposit their hard earned money; you may call it “ bribe”.
They could have visited China and Pakistan in stealth
to query why don’t they support India, an Asian Nation,
for annihilating the terrorists in Kashmir,
as they lent support to Sri Lanka to wipe out
Tamil Freedom Tigers who were fighting for freedom?
They throve well in Chennai as a community
with more than 3000 species loving each other
and casting bogus votes during the polls.
Distilling and selling arrack was their wonted trade.
They identify their kin by the length of proboscis
as people do by a beard or sword,
a cross-belt or a cross round the neck,
a big moustache or a tuft of hair,
a ring around the wrist or by a dialect spoken.
They have built castles as Dengue, Flariasis and Malaria
and sworn to mosquitovise the whole earth.
Some enter the jungles and hills
for suckling the tribes with the love of their faith.
Some of them are taught Kungfoo and Karate,
the martial arts to smash the opponents with guts.
As you, the biting heroes are away,
the flies here paly by picking pockets, snatching chains,
breaking into houses at night, carrying hawala money
or smuggling drugs by superfast trains.
You have a chip of your own with secret codes
and so your whereabouts are not known.
At times, you export female children to gulf for pelf
and kidnap small boys, to tie them around the shank of camels,
running wild in deserts. Without you I feel foreign here,
as you would hit at my face when I ride a bike
and keep me awake through 300 nights in a year
by hovering over me and trespassing into my nostrils.
--------------
Note: Asian Tigers l; and Anopheles are kinds of mosquitoes.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Bibhishan's Warning
Twenty warriors armed and girded in the Council Hall arose,
Thirsting for a war of vengeance, hurling challenge on the foes,
But Bibhishan deep in wisdom-Ravan's youngest brother he,-
Spake the word of solemn warning, for his eye could farthest see:
'Pardon, king and honoured elder, if Bibhishan lifts his voice
'Gainst the wishes of the warriors and the monarch's fatal choice,
Firm in faith and strong in forces Rama comes with conqu'ring might,
Vain against a righteous warrior would unrighteous Ravan fight!
Think him not a common Vanar who transpassed the ocean wave,
Wrecked thy city tower and temple and a sign and warning gave,
Think him not a common hermit who Ayodhya ruled of yore,
Crossing India's streams and mountains, thunders now on Lanka's shore!
What dark deed of crime or folly hath the righteous Rama done,
That you stole his faithful consort unprotected and alone,
What offence or nameless insult hath the saintly Sita given,
She who chained in Lanka's prison pleads in piteous tear to Heaven?
Take my counsel, king and elder, Sita to her lord restore,
Wipe this deed of wrong and outrage, Rama's righteous grace implore,
Take my counsel, Raksha monarch, vain against him is thy might,
Doubly arméd is the hero,-he who battles for the right!
Render Sita to her Rama ere with vengeance swift and dire,
He despoils our peopled Lanka with his bow and brand and fire,
Render wife unto her husband ere in battle's dread array,
Rama swoops upon thy empire like a falcon on its prey,
Render to the lord his consort ere with blood of Rakshas slain,
Rama soaks the land of Lanka to the margin of the main!
Listen to my friendly counsel,-though it be I stand alone,-
Faithful friend but fiery foeman is this Dasa-ratha's son,
Listen to my voice of warning,-Rama's shafts are true and keen,
Flaming like the with'ring sunbeams on the summer's parchéd green,
Listen to my soft entreaty,-righteousness becomes the brave,
Cherish peace and cherish virtue and thy sons and daughters save!'
Tamils and Tamil
All the villages connect to their town
And poorly connect one another.
All the Tamils hail Tamil
But ignores one another.
Villages and Tamils will not progress
27.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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China Town Work Ethic
China Town has many more business's I do say
because hard working Chinese people made it that way.
Having a good work ethic that made America strong
Chinese Americans work their business hours extra long.
Now I do patronize a Chinese Health food store
I bought herbs there and they gave me health advice galore.
So Thank the Chinese people for bringing customs and expertise
for they too have right to live the American dream.
Written by Christina Sunrise on November 21,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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I Was A Bustlemaker Once, Girls
When I was a lad of twenty and was working in High Street, Ken.,
I made quite a pile in a very little while - I was a bustle maker then.
Then there was work in plenty, and I was a thriving man
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade, since the bustle making trade began.
I built bustles with a will then, I made bustles with a wit,
I made bustles as a Yankee hustles, simply for the love of it.
I built bustles with a skill then, surpassed, they say, by none,
But those were the days when bustles were the craze, and now those days are done.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, many many years ago,
I put my heart in the bustle maker's art and I don't mind saying so.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, I may have had the mind of a muff,
I may have been plain and deficient in the brain but I did know a bustle maker's stuff.
I built bustles for the slender, I built bustles for the stout,
I built bustles for the girls with muscles, and bustles for the girls without.
I built bustles by the thousands, in the good old days of yore,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade and I don't build bustles any more.
Many were the models worn once; but mine were unique, tis said,
No rival design was so elegant as mine; I was a bustle maker bred.
I was a bustle maker born once, an artist through and through,
But things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And what can a bustle maker do?
I built bustles to enchant, girls, I built bustles to amaze,
I built bustles for the skirt that rustles, and bustles for the skirt that sways.
I built bustles for my aunt, girls, when other business fled,
But a bustle maker can't make bustles for his aunt when a bustle maker's aunt is dead.
I was a bustle maker once, girls, once in the days gone by,
I lost my heart to the bustle maker's art, and that I don't deny.
I may have had the brains of a dunce, girls, as many men appear to suppose,
I may have been obtuse and of little other use
But I could make a bustle when I chose.
I built bustles for the bulging, I built bustles for the lithe,
I built bustles for the girls in Brussels and bustles for the girls in Hythe.
I built bustles for all Europe once, but I've been badly hit,
Things have decayed in the bustle making trade
And that it the truth of it.
poem by Patrick Barrington
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Check if you are a Tamil
To be a Tamil, to be born to Tamils
And to speak Tamil as mother tongue
Aren’t alone a sufficient proof.
You must speak vowels tearing apart and
With nouns in English and verbs in Tamil.
You must have a hero higher than God
And read, if at all, the news of movies.
You will do public nuisances at length
And must be insensitive to them.
You shall respect Tamil and ignore Tamils.
You celebrate festivals by watching
In TV Tamil debates and stars’ talks.
You seek south Indian restaurants abroad.
Then you can boast you are a true Tamil.
19.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A tribute to M. Karunanithi
You stood for Tamil and for Tamils.
You did well for them a long while.
In you runs Tamil blood, not an Aryan’s.
You are who made Tamil to its throne.
You are who weeded Tamil clean.
Paradoxically you are out thrown.
Who can beat you in oratory skill?
You are a caste-less, religion-less jewel.
The one who weeded Tamil was weeded of Tamils.
The presence of mind is out of presence.
Once you were thrown for an intruder.
Now you are thrown for an invader.
You were not thrown for misdeeds.
You were thrown by caste and creed.
You were not shut for ineptitude.
Then why had you been an outright reject?
Sheep do not want a sheep as their master.
Slaves do not want a brethren as their master.
Sheep mind not the master slaughtering.
Slaves worry not the master plundering.
Both want a merciless hand to rule over,
In whom the slavery is bravery.
Tamils hail Tamil but not Tamils.
How can you expect their granary?
Emotion rides where the rational slides.
If a bone is given, the tail is shown.
It is sad that you were born a Tamil.
Tragic events with a happy end-
Happy events with a tragic end:
I weep you are slated as vagabond
Though you entail a peaceful end.
I suggest you denounce politics.
27.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Trade isn't about goods. Trade is about information. Goods sit in the warehouse until information moves them.
quote by C.J. Cherryh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before my grandpa built his own church, we went to the neighboring town, and it was a white community. You know, up north, mostly middle European people and Indians, Chippewa Indians. We were welcome to that church, but once we got in, they didn't know what to do with us.
quote by James Earl Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chinese woman
When your eyes,
Meet mine,
You smile,
So fine.
The thought
Of being with you,
Excites me,
It’s all I wanna do.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Every time,
You see me,
I try
to be funny.
I don’t understand,
You laugh and smile,
Yet I don’t hear from
You in a while.
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go far away,
Chinese woman,
Why don’t you stay?
Days come
In and out.
Still I have
To shout.
Just so you
Look at me.
Just so you
Can see…
Chinese woman,
I love you,
Why don’t you love me too?
Chinese woman,
Don’t go away,
Why don’t you want to stay?
With me.
Chinese woman.
This poem, is actually the words to a song. I wrote them as lyrics first.
poem by Roger Naya
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