Nekhbet

Anger boiled inside Her. Stormed into the court, She. Proved innocent, She that of her husband's. Furious Kannagi cursed. And the Maanagar burnt To ashes. Late was She. Frenzied, She swore. Dead was Pandya Raja. Furious Kannagi cursed. And the Koodal burnt To ashes. Rose a tyrant Raja, in the kingdom here. Drunk with power, ignored he, the just. Kannagi rose. And the kingdom burnt To ashes.

As a researcher, the mind gets trained to look at things logically and critically. How do the academic settings have superstition then? The generation of students who come before you set up the tradition and practice for others. These legacies get carried on. The lunch and dinner break walks aren't complete without me touching the big, green entrance gate. Why do I do it? It is believed that whoever touches the gate, gets selected for their post-doctoral fellowship outside the country. My greedy mind is carrying around this belief. I have even shared it with my juniors who I am sure will carry the practice forward. Another belief floating around is that if you feed the campus dogs, you will go outside the country for your PhD. I was a strict follower of this rule. I used to feed the dogs sugar-packed glucose biscuits. Unfortunately, I was afraid they would have diabetes and stopped that. Now I am stuck here. I do not have any personal experience, but the sports people on the campus

Everytime, Bright beam pets the plethora of green Black tar covers itself in purple, yellow, red and orange Beast roams and wings spread Blue turns grey, orange and pink Everytime, Paper pinned on the notice board Pods open for fluffy whites on the road Pay! says the code Perfect candid  I miss you. 

Oru nala valipp is Same as  a shade  Same as a cool breeze  During Summer Same as the smell of frying onions Same as the smell of tadka When Hungry As comfortable as your favourite tshirt As comfortable as the messy bun of hair After a tiring day

A patch of Shadow Moved through the corridor Veiling the beginning and the end  A clamor resonated From the patch of Shadow Sinking the senses Yellow glow emanated From the patch of Shadow When the sun was nascent and when withering  Muse it was The patch of Shadow For it ebbed away Once the Ode was done