SONG – 1 :     Tiny little wishes of mine

Tiny little wishes of mine

Wish to flap the wings rapidly

Pearly beady wishes, they are

Wishes that are saved inside tightly



Wish to touch and kiss the moon

Wish for the earth to revolve around me


Wish to turn into jasmine flower

Wish to wear the breeze as garland

Wish to touch and feel the clouds

Wish to leave behind all the sorrows

Wish to tie the world with my dark hair


Wish to plant seedlings in slushy field

Wish to catch fishes in the river and put them back again

Wish to drape the rainbow on me

Wish to wear a full saree later in the month of ‘Chitthirai’

Wish to lie down inside a drop of dew


SONG – 2 :     Vandhe Madharam

Vandhe Madharam

Vandhe Madharam

I roamed and romed

Here, there and everywhere

Like a tiny sparrow

That flies without direction

In rain and sunshine

I romed in all seasons

Roamed in Search of my land

I greyed, aged

Mind has gone mad

Eyes are wide in search of you

Hands grow long to reach you

My heart is beating, beating

Nowhere had I felt a love like yours

And so your laps, I am search

I salute you, my Motherland

Dear, Motherland, I salute you

Vandhe Madharam

Vandhe Madharam

Colourful dreams you instilled in me, as a featus in the womb

Welcomed me with a bouquet, when I came into the world

On my right and left you benevolently filled with seas

To plant the flower garden you presented streams


bossomed me

Brought me up and

Bestowed me a pleasant life

Endowed me ever green fields

Endowed all my life with sparkling joy

Gushing are my eyes in gratitude

Vandhe Madharam

Vandhe Madharam


SONG – 3 :     Oh Bamboo Groves

Oh Bamboo Groves

Buzzing songs of the bumble bees

Gushing cascades cleansing the rocks

At distant pinnacles

Forgetting the laps of mother nature

How could I live heartlessly

I am tired of living on the earth as a human

And wish to measure the sky with bird’s wings



Pink lotus blooms in marsh

The marshy water stinks – but

The soul of lotus remains fragrant


Trees hate not the river

that severs its roots

Instead they shower blossoms

Gladly upon the rapid river


Won’t I turn as a lotus

And attain salvation of life

Won’t I turn as a tree

And attain fulfilment of this birth

Won’t I turn as a brilliant dew

To quench the thirst of the Sun or

Some animal


Cloud forms from the vapour of

the Saline sea

yet, the cloud showers not

the salty rain


The sun dies not,

Despite falling on the hill

Lending its light to the moon

It extends its life in benevolence


Won’t I turn as the cloud

And be noble

Won’t I turn as a rain drop

Without feeling my birth or death


SONG – 4 :     Wind you are and me the tree

Wind you are and me the tree

I nod at your command


Rain you are, me the earth

Wherever you fall, bearing you is bliss


Night you are, star I am

I remain as long as you do


Wave you are, me the shore

I shall accept your thrashing


Body you are, shadow I am

Don’t you fall, but I will


Branch you are, me the leaf

I live until I cling


Eye you are, Lid I am

lutter I will, until we merge


Breath you are, me the body

Only you, I let, to feel my soul


Sky you are, me the blue

blending you and I turn azure


Thought you are, me the word

When you utter, born I am


Sun you are, me the cuckoo

I sing as you emerge


Attire you are, me the waist

I wear you even when in sleep


Morning you are, Me the light

My shine is our union

SONG –5 :     Oh Mother, boen in the cactus land

Oh Mother, boen in the cactus land

Who raised me by working as labour in a quarry

Oh Mother, burgeoned in a thorny field

Yet, you never let thorns to hurt my feet


To the quails and cuckoos

There is place to survive in our bushes

But do we have a place to respite

During summer and winter


Angel she is, who transformed the arid land

And squeezed porridge out of crushed stones


She tastes the porridge in the plough fields

Resting on the uneven bunds

and wipe hands in the large leaves

Oh, poor woman


She picks her firewood from the thorny fence

And cooks the rice with a little measuring bowl

She lives leftover food,

What a pity, what a sacrifice


An early bird, she is, rising before Sunrise

And sweeps the floor with a broom so heavy

She kindles the land for her bread

And toils in the land to be buried within


Precious, she is the glittering so pure

And her milk, priceless and never turns stale

There are no kith and kin like the maternal relations


God knows what magic she has in her hands

The Ragi, when she cooks smells aromatic like ghee

And the dried fish she fries tastes like honey


Hundreds are there to claim as relatives

But can there be someone like her Mother

Gods are many, Gods are many in this world

Hey, can there be two mothers, so similer?