<p>The waves of the sea sing a lullaby to Kanyakumari…<br/>Nearby stands the beautiful majestic five-village cluster…</p><p>Surrounded by many towns… and one among them is ours…</p><p>To the north lies Bhagavathipuram…<br/>Livelihood: agriculture…</p><p>It raised me… but did not give me prosperity.</p><p>Father and mother though burdened by hardship<br/>Corrected and shaped me…</p><p>Carrying my dreams I completed my education…</p><p>Government service called me…<br/>I found refuge in Chennai…</p><p>The Civil Service of India embraced me.</p><p>Memories of youth grew heavy within my heart…</p><p>Between the past and the present<br/>There is some living pulse…</p><p>Memories filled with joy and sorrow…<br/>They let me bathe in the mists of Kanyakumari…</p><p>They made golden words bloom…<br/>Made me string them together with grace…</p><p>The offspring of my pen<br/>Are not new; nor are they novel.</p><p>In my childhood I wandered through the old…<br/>In my youth I descended to explore…<br/>In old age I tried once more…</p><p>All these became buds then blossoms then beautiful flowers—<br/>Honey-flowers that bloomed in the southern mists of Kanyakumari.</p><p>These golden-word flowers!<br/>Breathe them in and rejoice!</p>
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