Friday, November 16, 2012

ഗന്ധങ്ങളിലൂടെ


പ്രണയത്തില്‍
ഗന്ധങ്ങളിലൂടെ
നിന്നെയറിഞ്ഞു
മുല്ലപൂക്കളും റോസാ
ദളങ്ങളിലും
ആശയും
മത്തുമായി
നിന്നോടുള്ള
മൃഗതൃഷ്ണ.

കരിഞ്ഞ മണം
സ്വപ്നങ്ങളുടെ
അഥവാ, പ്രണയത്തിന്റെ
ചിതയില്‍ നിന്നും.
ചീഞ്ഞടിഞ്ഞ മണം.

ഒടുവില്‍ മണത്തതു
കേള്‍ക്കാന്‍
കഴിയാത്ത
തേങ്ങലാണ്.
നിരാശയുടെ
ചന്ദനമുട്ടിയില്‍
എരിഞ്ഞടങ്ങിയത്
ഞാനാണ്‌, നീയുമാണ് !

മരവിപ്പില്‍, ഗന്ധങ്ങള്‍ക്ക്
സ്ഥാനമില്ലന്നറിഞ്ഞു
മറ്റിന്ദ്രിയങ്ങള്‍
പ്രവര്‍ത്തിച്ചു തുടങ്ങി,
പതിയെ പതിയെ !

Thursday, November 15, 2012

The Sudden Rain


The sudden rain,
crouched
then splashed
on pebbles,
cobbled paths,
tinned roof,
on the concrete props,
tarred road

it muffled its thud
on mowed grass:
a cultivated sadness.

Tuesday, November 06, 2012

Sharmila





Sharmila, your hunger
does not gut
our city-bellies any more
You are just an
intravenous drug
taped to our
memory

We remember you when
we need to forget you, 
we need you to
rally for the kingdom
of conscience we have lost
while marrying your nation to yours.

Sharmila,your youth are
buried in our consciousness too-
they pack our restaurants,
massage parlours
taikwando classes,
your lissome women
we desire,
their serpentine charms
we seek at night only
to forget at day time

Sharmila, you live
contradicting our convictions
that passive struggle can
only remain passive,
you remind us that
our empathy is just another
meaningless-virtual act,
behind the scenes,
you remind us that
your life is our constant
struggle to resist your deeds
your remind us
the impossibility to erase
your land from the nation's memory,
your passiveness
reminds us the violence
we inflict on you,
your women bare themselves
to us just to show that rapes
can destroy, but never defeat.

Your young men die
and kill in your land,
or the one's who serve in
those lurid restaurants
in the town, or the lotus-
eaters who forget their plight
with the lure of sex and drugs,
when you fizzle out for them
we have no metaphors to
describe, no hyperbole
to praise you,

We can only remember to
forget the woman taped
to hunger and nerves,
in a land far, far away from us!

Monday, November 05, 2012

Go Back to Your Love






Go back to your love
Go back to the memories, live them
do not let death stalk you,
let not its coldness spread
into your heart like lichen,
keep the fire alive and
kindle it,
poke at it, blow at it
like an old housemaid,
bring alive a dying hearth,
poke till embers fly, and sparks spurt,
let the cities be warmed by your fire
let snow-turfs thaw and
then listen to your heart
slowly coming alive
with her music
follow her,
she will take your down to the
alleys of warmth
and your nightmares will end

Monday, October 29, 2012

Clouds

Travelling clouds
steal a frown,
a smile or a flash of
lightning from earth's
cauldron of moods.

When I travel with them
there is always a myth
and a fable hidden
in their knowing brightness


wisdom stratified
or sadness anchored 
on their brow


A love lost or deceit
in their frown,
cuckoldry or shades
of doubt in their grey
abode.

A smile and blush
smudged on the
apple cheeks too scream
love, dreams and
naive hopes which turn
to night as the day marches
along time's ticking scale.

In brightness, it's
epiphany and wisdom
of a clear, splendid mind.
Through cumulus,
wisdom streams in through
Jacob's ladder,
heaven opening up
its gates to the daughters of earth.

In turbulence or treachery,
in love and loss,
in wisdom and folly,
heavens etch their
psychedelic moods
in many-coloured hues
and sometimes in its
most lowly fog-
a frosted- vacuumed 
emptiness of a silent scream...

Friday, October 19, 2012

Birth of an Oracle



I tried to tease
love out like an olive
after draining out
every drop of lust,
it remained at the bottom
punctured and torn,
finally, when I tasted
the drupe
it was bitter-sour,
sharp on my palette
before I spat out the pit
which stung my
tongue like an epiphany!

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Last Rites of Flesh



Angled by the
the  bait
of freedom, 
the sea- worn
fish flew
to the land
with the pull
of the line,
this twilight
she splashed
on the wharf;
in a flash
there was
a  heavy scuttle
in the glimpse
of freedom,
momentary; 
promising.

She flew in the
air,  in a trance
huffed at the
first glance
of the setting sun
painted on
her scales
shimmering
bronze and silver,
enameled by
sea and sky.

Out of the sea
she gasped,
Time, ticked on
her dorsal fins, 
went shivering
down the spine
to her scissored tail;
in  a few violent
jerks she pined
to be back in the sea.
 

Breathless
she slithered,
snout quivering,
eyes rolling out
to see the sea,
gills whispered
penitent litanies
to the
memories she lost.

She breathed
her  last
and stretched to
the calm stillness
of the sky that mirrored
the murky sea on its
thoughtful clouds.

Friday, October 12, 2012

The Butterfly Effect


It is the remnant of
a night mare
a childhood scar
lingering to sore,
or your love
festering in the
hidden urns of
oblivion,
or how you battered
with  a verbal
punch yesterday,
a stammer,
a birthmark,
the colour of the skin
or a book
that stayed
after reading
with passion.

It is the mind
that collapses
like wild cards
at the end of
making
the  splendid design
we call life.
In chaos
we make a theory
give it colour
let them
sprout wings
flutter
quiver and
take flight,
and call it
the butterfly effect!

Thursday, October 11, 2012

The Sea

The sea was
always an epiphany.

Seen from above
in its inky loneliness
I was a speck that
disappeared with the waves.
 
In the hills 
Humble and lonely
I cured myself
with its salty waves
lapping up dreams
misting my life,

I pickled myself
like a sea-weed
in its memories.

Back home,
sea worn, you and I
looked at the strangers
grazing her fringes.

Evenings were
spectacles
clouds smudged
a collage of colours
never found on land.
silver, grey, auburn
and splendid saffron
splashed chaotic
on sky's mirror eyes.

We watched
the sun slink down
her watery bosom
and darkness creep
up her quivery
waves,
leaving a crack of
the silvery sky
in a distant horizon.






Thursday, October 04, 2012

God's Ikebana

A twig from
a weary branch
a tender leaf
of  a fledgling plant,
a fresh blown bud
from a thorny shrub,
God's ikebana
amazes all.

When he gathers
flowers, branches,
pebbles, leaves
cut, torn,
chopped or wrenched,
a dried root
a thorny stem
woven with grass,
smiles gathered
in their prime:
arranged to perfection
with his nimble care.

The artist God gathers
flowers all season long,
from tropics to laplands
grass, moss and peonies,
some in random, some
with extreme care, he cuts, tears
wrenches, snaps and heals
with the same nimble hands
to create a sight out
of nature's misty eyes.

Next time you see him
gather a sprig or a bud
imagine he has the
last laugh in blessing
dead flowers with life.  

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Hunting heart beats

Sleepless nights
spread on me
like a nightmare,
I went exploring the
heartbeats of my children,
I saw their dreams take wings
like butterflies, grazing from
one flower bed to another.
Their tender feet
tip-toeing on mossy dreams,
their gentle flutter;
a carnival of dreams,
a peace that
abides with innocence.

Then the  gentle harmony
of my parents' hearts,
tell-tale of the
end of turbulence
an owl hooting is contentment
as they rowed their life to
the fag-end of their twilight.


When I listened to
my caged heart
breaking its head on
my ribs, desiring to break free
I was listening to its silence
in between its desperate knocks
I heard hesitant beats
while I halted between
life and death!

Sea Trapped

I became the seashell
when I heard the
sea trapped in her
orifice,
furrowed by time, 
echoing memories
of love
separated by
whorls of thoughts
fear and distance.

The shell
could feel
touch and hear
the sea in every
suture of her being. 

The shell
reverberated
the wave
murmured his love
mourned lost memories.

The crests
of memory
remembered what was
wrenched out
leaving just an
empty trough behind.


Thursday, September 13, 2012

Emptiness

When  the birds come
home to roost
drying the last trace
of warmth of the hirsute sky,
I travel wearily
to my hearth
of memories.
dead warmth
fanned awake by
slow sputtering  coal

Every evening, I die
out with my memories,
wood smoulders to
ashes reducing itself
into nothingness.

Thursday, September 06, 2012

Every day

Every day I
wake up and dance
to the suns tune,
warm up a  bit
before the rise
and cool myself up
before the set.


In the pedestal

I work-out in
broad day light,
act in the game
which I call life.
My legs, toes
and fingers
move according
to my karmic
chakra,
I believe I think
free, but they
are reined to
my destiny.
My prayers
are anachronistic,
they challenge
my shallow faith,
they are chanted
from memory and
 a childhood habit
My love rites are
confused, I never
knew who to love
and when I loved
with a  blind hindsight
I saw the bubble
burst in human
treachery,
In my optimism
rankles
the death knell
to my innocence,
In my sunshine
I see the green dark
clouds descending
to quicken my doom 



Friday, August 31, 2012

I turned to a child one late evening

When I turned to a child
one late evening
I wished that the night would
roll black its curtain
and light the  daylight
stream into its void.

That stormy evening
I dreamed that
the wind would stop
bereaving her beloved
and let her howl
melt like incense in the air.

At night, when I looked
skywards
to ask the stars push
back their cloudy tresses
and smile from their
heaven's nebulous shore.

Will the jasmines smell
fragrant once again
and stud the skies
with their starry eyes?

Will the sea sing
in wild abandon
and fling its wet cloak
over the waiting sand?

Will the wolves remove their masks?
Will truth prevail?
Will the sunrays fill in
the spaces left by
the night's silent scream?

Monday, August 20, 2012

Tha Last Train Home

This last train home
will take us to the place
plundered , then torn
off the map by your men:
limbs severed
our home does not wait
for our miraculous visit.


Thank you for the tickets
and the free ride which
remind us of the exodus;
the Jewish plight,
It would have flashed in
your memory for a while
and wilted in the dawn.

Many histories have heard
Our fluttering heartbeats
seen our fearful tomorrows
It would take many more stories,
many rapes, murders and mutilations
before everything stops to a stasis. 

You have expelled us from your land
where we did not come to beg
we worked, sweated and  lived
in cubby holes of exclusion
you carved for us.

You called us a different race
you called us a different nation,
you did not even know our names,
nor did you care to know
you do not know where Assam or
Manipur is, not your fault
you grew up without us.

In return of your derision
we toil hard for a life
we smoothen the wrinkles off
your roads, build your dream castles
yet our worries snake into
the land laid waste by your men.
 

Far away, our Home
breaks under the
pressure of your rising
sky-scraper dreams
our dreams echo back
as an odd bullet fire or a blast
or our friend dies in the backyard
perhaps nameless and faceless
perhaps, soulless.

we can only return to the 
mowed down trees,
to tonsured hills,
to mutilated men,
to  ravished girls.

Here is a landslide
of men, who slip into
the silent scream of extinction,
their inner arch aches for
a foothold in shallow slime,
caught in the rockfall
of events, they slide into
the debris of  your
most forgetful memory.







Thursday, August 16, 2012

On the Seventh Day

Bereshith  
Day One

Let me listen to you
love you with my words
steal your tongue with my silence
punctuate your life
with my sighs
rejoice in your angry staccato
wallow in your abuses
The world is new
and fresh with love


Tehillim 
Day Two

Late into the morning
drowsing on a rainbow dream
some are your iridescent pasts
some, my Black Sabbaths;
they gore deep
like our present daggers
and at once, they soothe
as your shadows stir deep
every time I breathe



Mishlei 
Day Three

Alive from sleep's ashes
I am awake for you,
let me fill my day's chores
with your thoughts
and cleanse my mind with
the sweet camphor of your memories.
A translucent ray of sun
impaled on the
mist blanket of my woes.


Ketuvim
Day four


Love springs in the morning
takes on myriad shades
 of the darkness
you have left behind,
every day is fresh
cleansed from the mediocrities
of her previous mate,
Love in its various forms
I learned from you, my love .

Koheleth
 Day Five

When the dawn breaks
thoughts take root
the day grows like thoughts
branching out
budding leaves
pouting flowers.
darkness falls;
your thoughts are my refuge
I thresh my dreams
and garner the last grains
of your love for me
I wake up the
next optimistic day
to live a dream again.

Eikhah 
Day Six

Your silence breaks not my heart
in the much-hackneyed way
but it trickles down my veins
choking my arteries
snuffing the violent
beats your presence gifted me.
My heart beats slowly now
your silence silences me.

Apocalypse
Day Seven

As a person drunk
with life
I have courted death-
dreams in many ways:
violent crashes,
a pat of flesh on tarmac
spread by dexterous
death's butter knife;
taboos choke me
gently teasing my words
that strangle me to silence;
throttled awake by my own nightmares
my hurricane memories
twist and twirl
while you sleep
secured by the
latch and  bolt of
domesticity.

Every night, I break my head
on your well-walled life
and rain endless tears on you,
I love you with my letters,
mad ravings and verses;
 morning leaves  a fine film of salt
heals death-thoughts
with its sheer ambition to live.



Tuesday, August 14, 2012

If my heart had its music


If my heart had its music
I would have sung my thoughts
to words till the
last pulse peters out
into a whimper in the night.

Night  lives on even now
because  its shadows
etch-out the silent
Tale of the distress
Of tossing around in the wind.

Even a gentle wind
tickles the leaves
while the rain kisses
the windows that remind
That you breathe to
forget the brewing storm.

Though It is also true
my rhythm is   lost
to music, metaphors
and daily routines,
Without you
They are reek of habit.

When I pick these
threads that deter
and walk the streets,
I  halt only to look back
At the footsteps,
Memories, impacts;
and craters in my mind;
irretrievable
and futile
to a large extent.

If my heart had its  song
I would sing it
till the moment  before it stops
to wonder:
Why I hadn’t sung
 for so long!

Monday, July 23, 2012

Traffic

An antline
of bumping
traffic
silenced by
a siren;
an ambulance
wormed
into the hollowed
out wedges
of movement;
cars slowed down
impatient bikes
screeched to
halt on wet
tarmac;
the dissarray
caused by
death's clarion call. 

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Ten Years


Amen to those days of daunting desire,
in our physics of togetherness,
I learned my lessons from you
you pushed open my caverns
of longing with your gentleness

After that, ten years of getting along
like two musical notes in disharmony
one seeks harmony in abstractions of love
another, in actions that ensconce one’s dharma ,
one dreams, another talks his dreams
the real and imaginative running parallel
two birds off to two destinations,
accommodating the other, either
whisking gently under a wing or
pushing the other away to its own world.

Ten years since our volcanoes fossilized
into the diamond  of our destinies,
we  mother and moonlight into our
children’s lives like heroes and villains,
nurturing, providing, tweaking their ears
thereby, exploring theories of parenting.
our logic often clashing and colliding,
yet, wearing masks of perfection.
In another ten years, the mask  will  fail,
our made up faces will crack to
reveal the ugliness of neglect.


In our tenth year, we are a bundle of
opposites tied together by the follies of youth and love
We ignore each others’ life, till we need fillers
for the world or some extra wads of cash,
we need each other for our children,
our parents and friends, while we orbit
in our strange horizons, keeping a
distance, but,  at once cold and warm.

Friday, May 25, 2012

Ode to my a-political self

My poetry springs out of
my  ignorance of politics
my words are not militant,
they lose their steam and sting
in composition.
I am writing
into history,
a part of
apathetic
apolitical me.

My words, pregnant with
the tangible meaning
of my then and now,
My thoughts gloss over

the tales of fifty-two
gores of political vengeance,
My poetry forgives
the murderers and
leaves them scott-free,
my complacency
mutes her anger over
price rise, and
mouths "corruption"
in a nonchalant way.

When I rub my
muzzle on the restraint,
I feel the coldness of
a Christian grooming
looming over
nodes of forgiving,
an act that became a
habit and then, a performance

A performance that
tames my political self
into an apolitical being
 
By conjuring words into
the world that constantly
repairs my political memory,
 I perform my self
into irrelevance
to nestle my self

into a sense of apolitical
apathy

Monday, May 07, 2012

Bird Watching with my Brother

A trek into
the wild,
fearing 
slippery boulders
flash floods
and wild bees,

My brother's lens
hunted for
a bird, he tracked
down a whistling thrush;
in the fatigue
of middle-age
I sat on a boulder
watching him
snipe the dark
for a gentle bird-song
or the ruffle of a wing.

Cain watching Abel,
with  the fond
nostalgic eyes
of a  murderer,
In the wild there
was a peace that
did not break our bond.

As the day set in
leaves streamed in
patches of warmth,
lit up the darkness,
I climbed up
the Jacob's ladder,
tenable strands
of sun light
spiralled up
like our DNA;

He saw the flight
of a hornbill,
sun rays
lured by the green,
with a maniac
spring, he clicked
away to perfection.

Our differences often
signalled skywards
to seek out our sameness.




Tuesday, May 01, 2012

I want to thank my dreams

I want to thank
my dreams who visit
me every night
some, I remember
for a while in the early
hours of waking,
many flee from
memory like cuckolds


Some dreams linger
as nightmares
their ebb and flow
haunting the day;
every slice of life
becomes a déjà vu
enacted once again

Some dreams don’t stay
they fade like jilted lovers
in the dark, never leaving
imprints of love behind,
stealing precious
strands of memory
along with their flight.

Some dreams bring in
dead relatives in
my lonely patch;
lovers, with their illusion
of light, fireflies
to my darkness;
friends who act as foes
and foes who caress.

Even those persistent
dreams of my vertigo,
my fall and my
exam angst,
my failures projected 
in the most surreal,
my desires decently
dressed and sometimes,
naked and lame.
My parricides, nakedness
and shame concealed in them,
they shape my
composure for the next
streak of dawn.

I want to thank all my
dreams who come
visiting me by night
like guardian angels,
with their fancy wings
transporting my sanity
into insanity and 
my reality into  just
a straying mongrel-thought.


Thursday, April 26, 2012

The other side of light.


In this rain-swept dawn
there is night in my eyes,
sleep on its puffy lids,
I must have cried 
the night away
wasted words,
seeking love
and poetry.

I sought words in
the rivulets that flowed
down, they were lost
in the ebb and flow
to be never retrieved. 
Stones rankled
in the dark, missed warmth
and the life enhancing soul.

Words grew in
love's flames, and
surged heaven-ward
words coated with love
sang paeans for the
my invented god,
in you
I chastised my thoughts
on you, I discovered
primeval desires
spiraling on your
tenderness.

Against the fire
a mirror was blown,
I looked into him
he looked through me,
He, an image,
slipping from my grip,
I,  an idea, that could
not be read,
reflecting our brittle
selves in one another ,
we built love
on the  thin sheet of longing.

This moon-lit dawn,
garnered from sun’s
dying rays,
shines into my
sleeplessness.
far away, I can imagine
your half-dressed torso
lit by the moon
your profile
caressed by the gentle light
and your dark shadows
sharply etched
on the other side of light.









Getting Ready

Messiah on the cross.
Jacob ready to be slain.
Publication woes have
religious metaphors
strung to them
Or is it Miriam
dividing  her bread
among believers,
in exchange for stones?

I am ready
to face the world
with my words...


Saturday, April 14, 2012

Your Potent Pill

I am the mistake
your middle-age made
a younger man groaned
into your older self,
to seek
the blemish in your life

You buried me in your
legitimacies
I hounded your days
your thoughts, your secrets
the dark matter of your
universe , I persisted
in every nook and cranny

without scheming you planted
me in those hirsute spaces
your chest, your groins
in your secret hideouts

I have grown like algae
a heartache that weakens you
I have changed from
a smile to a frown,
from ecstasy to agony
from a secret to a news
you planted me like
canker in your domesticity.

Stepping back is as easy
as incarceration,
you can walk back
the memory lane
and erase every black
hole of memory.

You can refuse to communicate,
vanish into your own world,
I never haunt
but like a  disease treated
with a  potent pill, I
too can disappear
and never appear.
Only if you will care to treat!



Thursday, March 08, 2012

Padmanabha Smiles


This city, risen from
her amnesiac fumes,
gets ready to
bury her wealth
in the secret coffers
of knowledge,
Lord Padmanabha
smiles through the dark
sanctum  bemused by the twists
and turns of fortuitous  time.

Suddenly, fame stalks
the dim-lit pathways,
like a strumpet on prowl , 
camera-flashes through the
fortress that sieved religion inside
its four dark walls of nescience
and piety that  discount
all creation as a  gentle
glob that huddled into an eggshell

The  city , now rich,
famous and seductive,
glosses over the makeover,
fleshes into her suburbs, her
adipose tissues spill over the
green hamlets, her dialects
lumbers to the polished
lisps of the another land.

The city has her flavors
dished out in the wayside carts,
her ethnic taste  hijacked
 by tattu dosas and curried
beef, toddy shops giving way
to foreign liquor doled
out in state beverage shops;
evenings stalked by unsteady
steps accosting flaccid lust.

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