Gouthama Siddarthan


I, Gouthama Siddarthan,  am a popular poet, short fiction writer, essayist and literary critic as well in the modern Tamil literature.  Running 'Unnatham' (Greatness) a modern Tamil literary magazine, I have 17 volumes in all, spanning poetry, fiction and essays, to my credit.  Honored with several literary awards  in my 30 years of literary pursuit, I have been of late writing in international  languages, too, my works translated into over 20 languages.

My writings have been published in Truthout, California Quarterly, ArabLit Quarterly, Countercurrents, The levant magazine, pravada. ru, globalresearch.ca and in Roman literary journals 'Urmuz,' 'BANCHETUL'.  They have also been published in Spanish, Italian, Russian and Roman online journals.

Ten books by me are being published in eight world languages (English, Spanish, German, Romanian, Bulgarian, Portuguese, Italian and Chinese ) before one year.

I have also been running an online magazine 'Tamili.in'

Recently my Belarusian support poem has been published in 21 languages!

Currently my 4 language columns are translated and getting published in Russian, French, Spanish and Italian online literary magazines.  

I have written about the chaos which is created by the current pandemic situation in my country. It includes an introductory article and 4 poems.


The voice of a neighboring brother who joined the Belarusian soul!

  1. Thank you
  2. You’ve stabbed us with a goad
  3. You’ve penetrated the heart of us with leaden bullets
  4. You’ve handcuffed our raised fists
  5. You’ve sacrificed us in the dark prison
  6. Thank you
  7. Yet we’ve risen up in revolt
  8. As and after you stabbed us with a goad
  9. Yet we’ve stood up erect, our hearts unbent
  10. As and when you penetrated us with leaden bullets
  11. Yet our fists puffed up with vigour
  12. As and when you handcuffed them
  13. Yet we broke dark into light
  14. As and when you locked us up in dark
  15. Thank you so much!


Yellow flower

I come out of office for a cup of tea
Summer beats down on my skull
I walk along the shadows of skyscrapers
The shadow of a worker hanging precariously
From the dome of a building passes over me
His body odour akin to that of ploughed land in scorching sun
Wafts and kisses into my skull
Then, the shadows of the concrete jungle vanishing,
A yellow flower in an instant bursts out.

Time labyrinth

I leave my home
to go to work.
You leave your home
to go to work.

The prospect of us meeting someday,
the time labyrinth,
flies above the city traffic

like an eagle casting its shadow.

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