Tamils - a Trans State Nation..

"To us all towns are one, all men our kin.
Life's good comes not from others' gift, nor ill
Man's pains and pains' relief are from within.
Thus have we seen in visions of the wise !."
Tamil Poem in Purananuru, circa 500 B.C 

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Selected Writings -  Fr. Chandiravarman Sinnathurai

Rites of Spring

Art by Henri Matisse (1910)
12  March 2006

The flowers speak in silence
 With the blooming colours

They convey riotous thoughts
That translates the scented breeze
Into a catalytic cyclone
Inspired beneath the dancing rainbow.
Call for a poet; not a technocrat
Who will feel every torment of doubts
Who will catch each rhythm of shifting winds
Who will stroke his brush when sharp colours clash
Creating subtle art that burps of symphonic profusion
Who will synthesise tumultuous cacophony
Of nations travailing for emancipation.
Call for the tender loving hands of artists
Who will soothe the pain and wipe your tears
And grant you a vision that�s far beyond your horizon.
Weave meaning to your dream; make it limitless if you will.
Call for courage; finding fire in the passionate plea of a tortured prophet
Stoned at the altar and left for dead�yet he scoffed at death!
Kasi will sing.  He will dance to the rhyme and reason of Maravar.
Never wrong-footing a step or flinching in his goal.
Friend, play your lute and blow your worries away.
Don�t waste your time with thoughtless persons
Who seek roof-tops to blow their noses.
Don�t be tempted by Painted dolls
That has bartered their souls to echoing walls
They only strive to be a foot note in the international scene.
Passing clouds that hold no water.
Bored-stiff Bishops check-mated by Castles
Lusting for the day for unthinking masses to kiss the Ring! 
Mark my words; call for courage;
Don�t be a parrot but a pregnant tiger [Karpini puli]
That leaves the cave with a goal
Only to pounce on an elephant
While hyenas surround to scavenge.
The budding leaves scented water lilies
The heroes are sleeping don�t meddle with their precious dream.
You hear the bird-song�in its untainted voice
Call for precision, not for cheap play of words
You are not a harlot
Who lifts her Can-can and bends
For every diplomatic courtesy.
Call for the memories of your forefathers and Mothers
Enflame your virgin soul!
Guard it with life and die if you will with honour.
The vision of Taraki will electrify your soul�
He who lives by the fountain Pen
Never can be vanquished by the bullets of traitors� gun.
Friend, I weep and my tears will bear fruit.
Thank God you have noticed
The spring is here!


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