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Kalesh Kurup Feb 5
It snowed for two nights and days
Snow covered everything beneath
I longed for snow for long, for...

The snow covered...
The thronging steps on the pathways;
The daunted breaths on the grass;
Cigarette butts and unhealed burns;
The scars left as marks forever

The snow defined a new vista
A tranquil moment frozen in space
An unblemished surf on every muddle
Snow had grown in to a deserted horizon

I pulled over the blanket of snow
Head to toe, thoughts to dreams
I liked the deserted vista of snow
Snow covered everything beneath
Kalesh Kurup Oct 2017
You may say I remembered you only when I got free off my chores
May be, you are also right, I did not wish you blissful mornings in all years, me making a life
May be, you are also right, I reached out to you, but for a common friend and an incident
But as I did, it was not remembering, but not forgetting you all these years
You cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!

Albeit the bitter fights we fought
In the confines of our bedroom and the courtroom
Was it parting two ways with the  lightness of freeing from the heaviness of those six long years?
And when I wrote to you in just a few days that I want you back as you are my first and the best
You cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!

As I walked into your new abode, I knew I was sinning
It was my weakness that I could not take you along before you tied the knot
Even in that dark, cold ambience I could feel his eyes piercing my soul
Wasn’t it for love; to win you back that sinfully I shared the niceties of our togetherness
Hence, you cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!

It may be the humming of your favorite song or that poetry of longing
May be inundated snaps I took on the beach or the pathways
A late night re run of the movie we watched together
Or that free fall from ten thousand feet on the chutes
Memories do not fade, hence; you cannot, not love the Premise of Love, my love!
Kalesh Kurup Sep 2017
“Sir, this mole seems to be growing and spreading”
Suhail stopped the scissor and comb, and said
“It’s a bit grown than last month and even then, I noticed it spreading”

Suhail is my hair stylist for the last about six years
I have seen him growing from a Hair Analyst to Specialist to Senior Hair Specialist
There is something more than the generous tip that connects us
May be my willingness to abide by his experiments with my hair
Or reciprocation of loyalty that bound us every month

Surprised, I asked him, “What mole are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know the black mole on the back side of your left ear” puzzled Suhail
“You go and check with Madam, may be its my feeling only”

“How would madam know about it Suhail, she doesn’t cut my hair!”
“Arre Sir, you too!” Suhail had a vicious smile on his face
“Come on tell me” I prodded him with the same viciousness
We got into wayward pastime …

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When you lay down on her lap in those afternoons
And she combs your hair with her fingers
And when you fall into that muddle of sleepiness and excitement
Her eyes would lock it”

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When she comes from the back as on paws of a cat
Hugs and hold you tight with her hands
And press her face on your shoulder
Her eyes would lock it”

“Arre, Sir, they get to see it…
When those drenched lips move away from your lips
And the craving teeth leave a hickey on that earlobe,
Her eyes would lock it”

Suhail finished the haircut and I left tipping him as usual
The drive back home searched through the labyrinths of memories
Of caressing fingers, tight hugs and hickeys
Why didn’t she mention that mole, ever?

“Honey, you never told about that Mole,
Come on, let me see and let’s go to a Dermatologist quickly
We can’t take these things lightly; the doctor may even suggest a biopsy
Biopsy is fully covered in your mediclaim, isn’t it?”
“Arre” is a Hindi language term meaning “Hey”
Kalesh Kurup Aug 2017
That journey from Morgue was hardly an hour and a half
But my travail took me through thirty years,
Holding his cradle tight, lest to wake him up from that eternal sleep

As he was laid in that ambulance all dressed up for his final journey,
He looked the smart, tall "Chettan ", unlike the child I tended a month back
Forlorn in some early childhood shores, courtesy the Alzheimer's

A bump ahead on the road shook the ambulance and me from my thoughts
In a reflex, my hands went to hold him from falling from the cradle
An eerie chill went through my spine, he was ice cold- the body was in Morgue for long

Water soaks through his new shirt, ice melts in the outside heat
“Chettan” who stood so tall for you to always looked up to…
Who came with abundance in his back pack every Friday

With his Murphy radio playing melodies deep in to the nights
With his cloak work precisions for breakfast to dinner times
With his grins and growls that moved the moods of “Chechi ”

Have you ever tried to feel a body from the morgue?
An ice cold, motion less, sensor less body
That moment and the eerie chill is a revelation
Death is so penetratingly cold
That you wish you don’t have senses to feel it anymore

Ambulance halted at the large assemblage of mourners
I stepped out, a furious movie flash back playing in that ‘space within my heart’
He laid there- ice cold; waiting to be escorted, to the pyre;
With that space within his heart gone to a void, unwittingly

- all rights reserved
“Chettan” in Malayalam is used to address an elder male. In this case an elder brother in law

  “Chechi” in Malayalam is used to address an elder female. In this case an elder sister
Kalesh Kurup Mar 2017
"There is something in you"

"Do not tell me it's the state of my mind that
Crave for meaningful commitments
Do not tell me, our doors are mutually exclusive,
That cannot open to same pathway"

I am in the make and modes of that solitary *****
Who does not know what is the gift of the given moment.
Who does not know whether the next breath is life or not having it anymore.

I am the ***** living life on the edges when not in the fringes!
With desultory realms of engagements,
Let me avoid that growing sarcastic curve on your face
When "my passions are flimsy"; why define the adulations any lower!

So my 'distant untouched enigma';
Do not be dismayed at this callous, rantings of mine;
I have done with many  futile 'serious' talkathons...
Ignore me as a silly, frivolous thought
Flew in and darted away in an afternoon siesta
© 2017. all rights reserved with author
Kalesh Kurup Dec 2016
I again got stuck in the bridge today
In the Upper Plateau bridge-
The bridge  across  the lagoon.
Stuck, with no breathing space to manoeuvre
All three lanes facing forward, chock a block
Cars of all sizes and costs strewn around

It's always like that, faced ahead on the wheel
Neither space to turn left to see anything right;
Nor to the right, for anything left...
When on the steering wheel
You are responsible, not just for your actions;
But the whole world around.
For the car in the front, back and the
Sides, who cannot move until you move.
Slowly you realise, 'it was never a
Bridge across for ever"

There has been this urge,
Many a time, to break out and run, though
You are stuck in the bridge, no room to
Often it's like a circle eating itself;
Beginning losing the end and vice versa!

But then comes the thoughts of the school fees, the maintenance, the rent and the upkeep
You are stuck on the bridge, mate
Stay put, until the snarls open its own

All rights reserved (c) A K Kalesh Kumar 2016
Concept of left without anything  right and right where nothing left is borrowed from a friend.
Kalesh Kurup Dec 2016
Go to five more unknown lands
Collect a talisman from everywhere
Then climb the steps to the quietest place
You will find your cherished wish there
Fully blossomed; Strobilanthes,  the wonder
That blooms once every 12 years

In that quietest corner of the climb
When you find me- your treasure
Never come close to me,
For closer to the desire, I am different
Let me be the third talisman with the unfold magic
And, "thy shall not beret my indifference"

"But why you call me indifferent
Didn't you see the Gazette, off late?"
Life in her wide eyes darted through me...
"A decree was issued that you cannot
Feel Indifference unless I admit to it
Find your talisman- may be I am your unknown land"

Innate travel through time and mind zones;
Bereft of the sleep and the dreams, me-
Forgetting to remember me-self;
How can I remember to forget you?!
Don't put words into my mouth
You are the fifth talisman of an unknown land

December tells me "dart further and farther"
To unknown lands for talisman's blessings
" Get over the fence you made in these years
The fence cannot keep out, anyone willing
The fence cannot keep in, anyone wanting
The line you have drawn was in water...

So, here comes me, in search of the talisman
Off the fences, for you to invite and venture.
An year full of drum beat journey behind
In search of the quietest place of tranquil  
Thank you December, the wind you blew,
I keep these in my heart and mind for ever

Turning inward for a new year of inner peace...

(All copy rights with the Author)
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