Punyajanam Mantra In Tamil — Working
But the river had become a drain. The temple’s brass lamps were tarnished. And the people who once stopped to listen now rushed past, eyes glued to glowing phones. Somanathan’s own grandson, Karthik, a software engineer from Chennai, mocked him gently.
"Thatha," Karthik whispered, his voice breaking. "I felt it. For one moment, I wasn't Karthik the engineer. I was just… a human. And that was enough." punyajanam mantra in tamil
Karthik froze. "Me? Thatha, I haven’t chanted anything in ten years. I don't even remember the tune." But the river had become a drain
In the bustling temple town of Madurai, where the Meenakshi Amman Temple’s golden towers pierced the dawn sky, lived an old priest named Somanathan. He was the keeper of a small, fading Vinayagar temple on the banks of the Vaigai River. For one moment, I wasn't Karthik the engineer
Karthik stood awkwardly by the bed. He felt like a fraud. But he closed his eyes and began, hesitantly at first:
When Karthik finished, the old man exhaled—not a sigh of pain, but of peace. His hand stilled. He was gone. But his face held the softness of dawn.
Proletarian Poetry
In search of peace
Our hands bend iron for sickles,
but the heart starts to imagine
our enemies’ necks as grasses
When I read these lines
I thought what an image!
They were enough for me
to reach for my Visa card.
I also loved watching him
performing live. The first
poem he read about
wanting to be a river to
emigrate but still be at home
was marvellous.
Thanks for the introduction Peter.
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Thanks for the comment Owen and glad you liked it. Credit due to Chris Beckett who I met at The Shuffle, Poetry Cafe. Peter
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Thank you so much for posting this. I enjoyed Beweketu’s poetry even more than his novels through the years. I also hope his previous poetry works would be translated into english to reach a larger audience.
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Thanks very much. I’m glad you liked it. Best wishes, Peter
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