Gulmohar

Blooming red gulmohar,
adorning my way
to love and other mistakes.

വേനല്ചൂട്

ചുറ്റിലും മരങ്ങള്‍;

കാറ്റ് എങ്ങുമില്ല;

വേനല്‍ച്ചൂടില്‍ ആവിയായി ഒരു പുഴയും ഞാനും.

ഹിറ്റ്‌

കരണത്ത് അടിയേറ്റ് ഒരു പൂവാലന്‍;

ചുറ്റിലും മൊബൈല്‍ ക്യാമറക്കണ്ണുകള്‍.;

സംഗതി യൂടുബില്‍ ഹിറ്റ്‌......

ചെമ്പരത്തിപ്പൂവിന്റെ പ്രണയം

ഒരു ചെമ്പരത്തിപ്പൂവിന്റെ പ്രണയം അവസാനിച്ചത്‌
ഒരുകുടം താളിയിലാണ്. 

ശില്പി

വഴിയരികില്‍ക്കിടന്ന മിഠായി കടലാസുകള്‍ പെറുക്കിയെടുത്തു അവകൊണ്ട് മനുഷ്യരൂപങ്ങള്‍ ഉണ്ടാക്കിയപ്പോള്‍ അവനൊരിക്കലും  കരുതിയില്ല താനൊരു ശില്പിയാകുമെന്നു. നഗരത്തിലെ ഏതോ ഒരു ജിമ്നെയ്ഷിയത്തില്‍ മനുഷ്യരൂപങ്ങള്‍ ആവശ്യാനുസരണം വാര്ത്തെടുക്കുമ്പോള്‍ അവന്‍ കണ്ടു, പണ്ട് താനുണ്ടാക്കിയ ആ രൂപങ്ങളെ. 

ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍

നാളുകള്‍ ഭൂതകാലത്തില്‍ മറയുമ്പോള്‍,
വീണുടഞ്ഞു തെറിച്ച ഒരു കണ്ണാടി ചീളിലൂടെ ഞാന്‍ കണ്ടു,
എന്റെ ചിതറിത്തെറിച്ച ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍.
എനിക്ക് പിന്നാലെ അവ പാഞ്ഞു വന്നു;
ഞാന്‍ മരവിച്ചു നിന്നുപോയി.

എഴുത്തുകാരി

വാക്കുകള്‍ ആകുന്ന പുഴയിലൂടെ ഒരു ജീര്‍ണിച്ച ശരീരം ഒഴുകിവന്നു.
ആരാണവള്‍?
ഞാനോ അതോ നീയോ?
പോലീസിനെന്തെങ്കിലും തുമ്പ്?
ഇല്ല?
എങ്കില്‍ എനിക്കറിയാം;
അവളാണ് എഴുത്തുകാരി.
എഴുതിയെഴുതി പരാജയപ്പെട്ടപ്പോള്‍ ജീവനൊടുക്കി. 

ചിരിക്കാനുള്ള കാരണം

ചിരിക്കാനായി കാരണം വേണമെന്ന് അവന്‍ പറഞ്ഞു;
വേണ്ടെന്നു ഞാനും.
ഒടുവില്‍ എന്റെ ചിരി അസഹ്യമായപ്പോള്‍,
നടന്നകലുന്ന കല്പ്രതിമയായ് അവന്‍.....;
അപ്പോഴും ഞാന്‍ ചിരിച്ചുകൊണ്ടെയിരുന്നു.
.

The Poet

The poet lies

In the womb

Of his assassin.   

Hungry Child

The hungry child

Made everyone cry

By smiling vaguely. 

Happy Child

The happy child

Made everyone smile

By crying cutely.

Dots of Life

The dots of life,

Joined in a sequence

Of uneventful pauses.

The famous 'kozhikkotta' story

Once upon a time there lived an Appooppan and an Ammoomma in a village. They were so old that they were always quarrelling with each other like children. One day a distant relative invited them for his daughter's marriage. As they had chickens and cattle to look after Appooppan decided to go alone. Ammoomma was left alone with the chickens and cattle. Appooppan reached the mandapam where the marriage was taking place. Everything went well. During sadya they served Kozhikkotta. Appooppan was tasting kozhikkotta for the first time and he loved it.

Before going back he asked someone, "Mone, what is the name of that big round dish?".

"Oh! Appooppa, that is called kozhikkotta. You don't have that in your place?"

"Illa mone. We don't have that. I have to go now. It was a really good sadya."

Appooppan said good bye to all and started his journey back. On the way back he kept repeating the name of the dish to himself so that he wouldn't forget it before he reached home. He wanted to ask Ammoomma to make kozhikkotta for him. While trying to concentrate on repeating the name Appooppan failed to notice a huge pit and fell inside it. By the time he got out of the pit he had forgotten the dish’s name. He tried hard but couldn't recall anything. By evening he reached home and Ammoomma was sitting in the courtyard waiting for him.

"Hey manushya, where were you all this time?" Ammoomma was in a bad mood.

Appooppan didn't like his wife's question. "Di kizhavi, don't try to boss over me, ha."

Ammoomma went into the kitchen muttering so that Appooppan would not start over again. She put a pot filled with water on the aduppu. As she was busy making tea for Appooppan she did not see him entering the kitchen.

“Edi, I want you to make me ‘that thing’ which they served during the sadya.” Appooppan told Ammoomma as he entered the kitchen.

Ammoomma was stirring the boiling water after putting tea leaves. She turned towards Appooppan after taking the pot off the stove. “What did you say, manushya? I didn’t hear you”, she said.

“I said I want you to make that thing which they served during the sadya”. Appooppan stood savouring the taste of the big round dish in his memory.

Meanwhile Ammoomma remained clueless as to what he was saying. She looked at Appooppan and said, “I will, if you tell me the name of the dish”.

“It’s that big round thing. It’s so delicious. Make it fast, will you?” Appooppan was losing his patience.

“What? Doesn’t it have a name? There are so many big round things. Which one do you want? Ente manushya, tell me its name”. Now Ammoomma also started losing her patience.

“Didn’t I tell you? It’s that thing which I ate at the marriage”.

“How can I know what you ate there?” Ammoomma had already stood up from her kitchen stool and was walking towards the back yard when Appooppan stopped her.

“Are you going to make it or not?” He yelled.

“I said I will, if you tell me its name”. Ammoomma’s voice sounded irritated. She didn’t get much time to think before Appooppan’s hand fell on her back with a ‘ddhappe’ sound; then a few more ddhappes. Ammoomma was crying loudly. She started cursing Appooppan.

“Ayyo, ente manushya... why are you beating me? You have changed my back into a kozhikkotta. Ayyooooo…” Ammoomma was crying. Appooppan suddenly stopped beating her. He smiled a little.

“Aaa..athu thanne. That is what I was talking about. Kozhikkotta. Edi kizhavi, make me some kozhikkotta”.

Ammoomma’s eyes were swollen with tears and anger. “Edo manushya,” (tears refused to fall down her cheeks) “why did you have to beat me like that for a kozhikkotta?” Saying this Ammoomma turned towards the kitchen shelf in search of flour to make Appooppan his ‘kozhikkootta’. Later that night Appooppan sang his heart out after eating all the seven kozhikkoottas that Ammoomma made for him and happily died a peaceful death. Ammoomma went on living a new life with no more ‘edi kizhavi’ calls and no more ‘kozhikkoottas’. People often said that they saw Ammoomma singing the latest folk song near the big tamarind tree on the hilltop.

I am Medusa

I am Medusa,

The one with the stone gaze.

You look into my eyes

And turn into stones;

Stone statues that once breathed the fire of life.

You cease to breathe;

Yet you do not die.

You are just statues

Reminding me of a cursed life,

A life that is doomed to eternal solitude.

The serpents adorning my head make me twitch;

Fear oozing down my spine;

Crawling creatures hissing in my ears,

Never letting me sleep.

You say you fear me;

I say I fear myself.

I wish I could turn myself into a stone.

Funny Ways

Funny, the way we all live.

Smiling at each other,

Hoping for the other to vanish.

Groping in the darkness,

I lit the candle;

You ‘foooo’ed,

Candle light died.

I smiled;

You stabbed me

Because you didn’t see me smile

In the darkness.

Funny, the way we all die.

Dying Love

The black curtains,

fluttering in the cold monsoon breeze,

put an end to my life’s act.

My own heart,

ripped open to let my love known,

bled away into a lifeless world.

As I lay dying

on the grass mat,

a pool of cold blood

bathed me in all its gory glory.

Changing Times : Leaves

A leaf. Someone fell in love with a leaf. I don't know whether the someone was a he or a she. Even the leaf's gender I can't say for sure. But I think leaves are gender neutral, aren't they? It's just an assumption. If leaves had gender I would have done gender studies on them. The one who fell in love with a leaf called me two days back. It was a voice that sounded both feminine and masculine. I told the voice to call me later because I was busy. I was not interested in the voice until it told me of the leaf.

“Where is the leaf?” I asked.

“In the garden”, it said.

“Whose garden?”  

“My garden.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Nobody”, it said.

“Nobody can't fall in love until he or she is somebody”, I said.

“Then I'm somebody.”

“Which somebody?” I asked.

“The somebody who fell in love with a leaf.”

“Is this leaf a boy or a girl?”  

“Why do you care?”

“I don't care”, I said.

“Good.”

“Goodbye”, I said. Silence...leafy silence...A breeze turning into a wind and then into a storm. Leaves leaves everywhere except on the trees. The open windows invited them inside. They entered my house, the leaves. Some sat on the sofa waiting for me to speak. I still had the receiver glued to my ear listening to the leafy silence.

“Are you going to give us some tea?” the oldest looking leaf asked.

“No”, I said.

“Why?”

“Because leaves don't drink tea.”

“That ‘somebody’ fell in love with one of us”, it said.

“So?”

“Things are changing.”

“I can see that”, I said.

“Then bring the tea.”

“No.”

“Why?” it asked.

“I don't drink tea”, I said. Cold hostile leafy silence in my living room. Another breeze wind storm. A sea of leaves enveloped me and hissed into my ears... ‘Times are changing kid. We are leaving your garden. From now on you will always have autumn in your yard’...Cold unleafy silence in my living room. I looked out the window. There was no more a garden. I realized...leaves make gardens. Today the voice called again.

“I got married”, it said.

“To the leaf?” I asked.

“No.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you”, it said. Silence within me. Not leafy. What happened to the leaf? I thought things were changing. My eyes walked across the room. The curtains parted to let me look out the window. The garden. I could see it.  

Lives Unseen

Lives unseen by the ancestors;

Lived by the ghosts of their posterity.