After good twenty two years
I lay suspended, almost a S shape
In that easy chair, back home in Kerala
The cloth that holds, reminds
The swings I had in the cradle
With each move; people, events and situations
Came alive as if in a motion picture,
In that space within my heart

The contours of that easy chair
Rested myself into an eternal ease
Sitting there with my cup of coffee
I felt my life jumping on to my lap, in indulgence!
My life giggled, cried, laughed loudly
Sang occasional lullabies, kissed me deeply, and at times
Darted right into my heart
Filling all voids, in that space within…

My life held a mirror straight on to my face
Took me through the life I sailed
Pains, pleasures, pauses and prices I paid
Fights, flights and the final freeze, I chose
That easy chair on which I sat
Brought me close to my Self

In that trance, I asked
"Where were you all these while, my life?"
"You never find any time to sit for me to come to you" my life said
I realized, I was sitting, all the while, in innate forms,  
But not as a listener to my own life.
That easy chair back home
Showed me what and how, I were
That easy chair back home
Made me live again...

Baffled I am all of a sudden—
Why I am I and not you?
Have you ever wondered, dear,
why you are you and not me?

I feel your fingers twined around mine,
your pulse throbbing on mine;
but I can’t say which is which—
beats diffuse as mist into mist.

You open the window and look outside—
I see through your eyes a solitary crow
high on the swaying sparkle of a tree,
preening its feathers warm in the sun. 
Its feathers all damp from last night’s rain,
it shakes its fluff in shuddering bouts—
oh how it itches, itches, beneath the wings!
How nice the sharp beak combing, scratching!

Baffled I am all of a sudden—
why I am I and not the crow?
Have you ever wondered, dear,
why you are you and not the crow?

I am in search of that poem
I got that moment
I got that pencil
I got that paper
But where is that eraser
To find the right poem
From all those prose
I have written with my life

"Go Slow", I told my life in January
"I want to take this journey at your pace"
"I want to build those bridges again"
"I want to complete you as I would always want"

"Hello!” I heard a call from the near far.  
Was it really a response from the healing heart of February?!
"I hold the right to set your pace"
"I hold the right to bless you sleeps"
“I hold the right to curse you sleeplessness"
“I decide the right for you in everything"

Until the obscene April summer turned up,
It was not life; but the Cyclone’s desire to fell everything en route.
I learned; there might be things to cherish
But would not want to own again

Rains in Kerala carry the rhythms of life
I once again made those paper boats
At my pace, as the 10 year old,
And as July demanded
Life grew deeper within, in that rhythm of rains
Nursing the one who nursed me for long
I learned, there are only cycles in life,
There is only movement in life

The flight took off, despite the pedantic reasons thrown over the tarmac
In that morgue of frozen mummies, I felt the futility of expectations
My Wings of fantasies halted, on top of the panoramic Great Wall
In the arc lights of award night, I enjoyed the pleasure of losing
Walking alone the Washington streets, I found the walks of life...

November comes concealing a lot; it conceive sorrows
It grows a detached attachment within and around you
November reinforces the relativity in everything
Life, love, respect, trust and confidence

I like the reds in December, it's flamboyance
I like the irony of "hope" brought in by this very end!
There are only cycles in life, no gains or losses
There is only movement in life, some forward
And some stuck in the maze and not knowing which way.