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Showing posts from August, 2010

Re-turn

She heard the front door open
At midnight twelve.
He is back,
from his prolonged business trip
That cost him a divorce
and a bitter mouth.


Her grandma had said,
Its exact midnight when,
The He-god passed their courtyard
On Friday nights
Dragging a chain
Pulled to his ankle


They sat there on the portico
She counting the rose buds
And he untying the shoe lace
Years dragged between them, jerking
Like the squeaky kitchen drawer.


He indexed the strangeness
Clinging to his shoulder bag
While she sketched
The alien features of the little one
Sleeping inside.


Her dry washed skirts
Lay on the backyard poles
Drenched in the night rain.
She dreaded,
The man-god passing would curse
If water drips over his face
As he crosses over.


Words lay scattered
Beneath his cigarette smog
Like onion peels
In that bright wet night.


She felt relieved
For the silence that came over
As a new born babe.
At least, now she needn’t explain
How she balanced
Coffee mugs and carpet rates
Over her ways of love.


She was content
She had learned,
To sleep wi…

They are a nation

That’s where the road turned left, behind the thatched tea stall. Lemons, yellow grape bunch, hung from net bags, swinging like breasts, hanging.
Smoke stained tooth and coal taint pots shared the same old sequel, of men missing and women birthing in the dark damn holes of their inhabited forest land.
A race is born, another one, of bundled invalids. Human documents of swinish beings.
They war for a home and decay for a nation In between trade secrets of political wellbeing.
They breed day and night, an army of fantasies. Procreating benchmarks of a human kind, Unregistered, and crawl beneath the annals of history devoid a stamped belongingness of fathers born and land-marks puberal.
Outside the glitzy highways of pork and rap, flesh and wine they form a nation, Castrated.

* Remembering the land rights struggles of the displaced in Chengara (in Kerala) and elsewhere.




Love is in the air but am here !

the only thing unusual about the day was that i met him. and as people all over say, every thing toppled overnight. this time i guess, from toe to head.



the day struck me permanently blind of my in laws culinary tastes and hubbys favourite shoes. i forgot to water the barren pot at the first floor balcony that made good luck peep in through the velvet curtains.


at beakfast table and later at the kitchen sink i stared at the after meal dishes to find a route map of licked up desires of exhausted taste.


i couldd cook up so many as now i claimed to be in love, that came late yet so very different from the domestic one thrusted upon me like a second AC upper berth reservation ticket in a night train.


i had loved and lost (and even forgotten the names and peoples too ) so many a time, so much so that i often had hallucinations of love ghosts from bygone births.


may be thats why i was not so keen or rather tensed whn i knew i was about to fall in love , once again.(and that too when my hubby dea…

It’s a sea blue graveyard

I went to see
A man dying.
He lived in a sea side graveyard
Among random pines and
Disciplined tombs
Legs stretched and head scratched
He spat on the wind blowing.


Once he lived in
the mountain blues
and rock side caves
Made love with the banyan beauty
and invoked his dark sharp lady.


They walked down vineyards green
Narrow straits of full night moon.


He was raped
At the waterfalls
Naked woods
Danced around
His sunburnt passion.


He was lame
When he moved again
To tree top heights or lake side shines
With evergreen moths or dragonflies.


The man was stripped
Of his yellow skin
As he crossed the bony bridge
To his sand white eternity.


Last day
At the deep blue graveyard
He fed his heart
To seagulls mating
And his toes to
red ants marching.


In the shore line silhouettes
Of dry bit mist
I saw pigeons flying
As he lay dying.

Her night is red

Her earliest memory hangs over her wish to stab her grandma sleeping beside So that, Her mom would come back for the funeral.
She found her lost, like an arrow in search of its prey on those belly marks of parched earth labyrinths
A spider crawled, on the opposite wall, dragging its egg white halo. Posterity huddled, Underneath.
Tomorrow, it shall burst in the kitchen sink like sprinkled salt, over mushrooms bleached.
Street light poured in through the murky ventilator, the golden elevator, from the heavens
She flew out of her grandma’s mosquito net to pick up a forlorn star, to shine above as she red paints her marbles Sparkling silver.