He doesn’t know me
Neither do I, him

There is a lake between us
It is full of fish

Those fish are not his.
Neither are they mine.

The connection between us
Is that those fish do not
Belong to us

The fallen sky is still in the pond
I can see the fish diving through
The cloudy hillsides
There is no doubt that it is the fish
That stir the clouds however slightly be it

Are there fish that are undaunted by birds?
If you wish, peer into the sky in the pond

I kept wondering whether he was witnessing all this
Also, whether he comprehends my reflections

I couldn’t envisage what he saw in the pond
Neither did I have the time for it.

O, let him think whatsoever

He has a cigarette in his hand
That I too have a cigarette
Is another bond which we share

I feel that the fumes from my cigarette
And the clouds are friends
Isn’t that the reason I get vexed
About the clouds in the lake, floating, dead

His is not like that
One can see it in his face
He has no cares

He must be smoking to **** boredom

He is darker than I am
That too is a bond
But he doesn’t know
That I am actually fair
And that I am only pretending to be dark

Perhaps he was fair too once
Would he have got dark when his mother left him, forgotten?

I don’t think so; No, he is dark

The pond belonging to the clouds
The sky  fell into
My smoke fumes that roam in the company
Of clouds

Me, who is not dark..

In life

Walking through
The rows of trees on either side

Then, the standing trees
Walk backwards
I ask them to walk along with me
They walk backwards still

Walked a bit faster
The faster does the trees
Walk backwards, away from me

Tried running
Trees
Run
Backwards

I decide I will run along with the trees,
And went back

Still
They go in the opposite direction
To mine

In poetry**

It is because I feel sad
About eons that you have been standing
In the same position,
That I make you run like this,
Even though backwards..

A song comes out of the speeding bhogis,
Seeta is the one rendering the song.
She chants that her husband has long been dead.

Seeta has two sons, just like her ballads.
One –
Gives rhythm to her song.
Other –
Rubs a gentleman out of his siesta
And asks for a little money.

The bhogis gain momentum (Ignores the station master who shows red to stop the pacing male phallus)

Long away –
A girl lies down, lower than the rails.
**** me, **** me, she bangs her head.
I will, I will, the rails swell the train song in her ears.

Though long away,
Though have not heard the girl,
As if she has heard something -
Seeta stops singing.
And her children dash out.

Two hobos enter in –
As if to sell sizzling peanuts.

Just as to give the body a bath –
Seemingly not pleased just with the rails –
The male train jumps off,
Into the wide sea.
(Whose ****** is the sea, the breeze hums a song)

A thousand crows flutters from –
One’s previous birth,
To –
Another’s next birth.

Seeta, having forgotten all her songs –
Looks out for her kids.

Will arrive shortly, will arrive shortly :
Weary, irked and bored -
Time waits at a station.

(I did remember Rupesh Paul, who drew a simile between the rails and the *** worker’s nights, Anitha Thampi, who wrote about female trains, Latheesh Mohan, who noted down how the train stretches its back, Vishnu Prasad and his poem on the phallus, Prasanna Aryans usage: ****, says the wheel and ****-**** , says the rail et al , while writing this poem)

(Translated by Sherin Catherine)

Some place
Some time
There was a tea shop.
Open not just in the mornings,
But at noon and the evenings too.

Mornings, the menu read
Uzhunnuvada, idli,dosa,
Uppuma, vellayappam,idiyappam,
Sambar, payaru curry,kadala
And several chatnis.

Noon, the menu read
Aviyal,achinga,pachadi,
Kichadi,pulisseri,thoran,achar,
And several kinds of buttermilk.

Evenings, the menu read
Sukhiyan, bonda,
Pazhampori, parippu vada, mulaguvada,
Diluted milk, black coffee
And several forms of tea.

There was a cook in that tea shop.
There was an owner for that tea shop.
Both had a son each.
Those boys went to the same school.
They studied in the same class.
They sat on the same bench.

Whenever he was hungry,
One of the boys thought of
The owner of that tea shop.
Eyes widening with admiration for
The great man that he was!
He could eat anything
Whenever he was hungry,
Reaching for it in the container
Or poking his head into the food shelf
Or entering the kitchen itself.
He could take anything,
The boy salivated.

To the query “What do you want to be?”,
He even replied once that
He wanted to be that man.

But, whenever he was hungry,
The other boy thought of
The cook in that tea shop.
He lauded him in awe of
the great man that he was.
He could cook and eat
Anything any time any quantity,
He imagined jealously.

To the query “What do you want to be?”,
He even replied once that
He wanted to be that man.

Wait, don’t leave yet,
Dusting off your bottom
After reading an average poem.
Sighing indepthly
Or grunting lazily
Or belching sourly.

You are free to leave after
Answering a few questions.


Who owns this tea shop actually?
These schoolboys from the tea shop,
Whose sons are they actually?

There is another boy
Besides these two
In this poem!

Who is he?

One

The strands of hair you shed
Is my childhood

Love, now, is
Little feet that search each strand,
Toddling.

Mother’s name is written
In every filament
Of your grayed hair

Where were you
In the days when hair
Used to be worn in two plaits?

Two

One night,
Thinking I might get cold
You gave me a blanket

It was given you
By your mother
When you felt cold

This morning,
Daughter sleeps, covered by it

Which sunshine took away our chill?

From Chundanthuruth to Madrid
I was driving
On an errand
That was not really urgent

In the car, a song
Not actually sweet
Not even beautiful
Was playing in a hum..

Whenever I got bored
Looked at the sky
The sky too looked back
Once I winked at it
Teasingly..
Since the sky could not wink
Closing one eye
It shot a frightening glance
At me; said
" get lost, mind your business! "

I kept driving..
Beyond Kalamasseri
At the container road signal
Stood a man
Signalled to stop

No sooner did I stop
Than he got inside
And sits authoritatively
On the seat to my left
Regarding my song
Neither too sweet
Nor that beautiful
With contempt..

(In looks, a gentle man, infact a rogue
I said in brackets )

Though Idid not like much
I asked him his name
' Life ' he said
Ah! 
Since it was my first
Encounter with "Life"
Asked his initials too

Without paying heed
Life played a song
I did not like
Life played another song
I did not like at all
Life played a different song
I did not, did not like
Life played different different songs
I did not like

Life played song
I did not like
Life played song
I did not like
Life played song 
I did not like
------------
Malaamparamp, moolampilly
High court junction
Marine drive
On the way to Madrid
Life kept on playing
Different different songs

My "I dont like, I dont like"
Continued 

Life again played a song
I did not like it
Again I did not like
Again and again 
I did not like

Life 
Then
Played a song
I liked it a bit
I liked it a bit more
Bit by bit
I liked that song
Liked the song
Liked the song very much
Liked only that song

That song became mine
That song became me
What to say;
I even danced
To that song

Just then
Just then
Once again
I asked Life
His initials
Laughingly it said
" Life.PK"

(Translated by Vijayalakshmi Murthy)

this time, when i went
to meet Death at his place,
he showed signs of weakness.
he was watching a cricket match
relaxing in his arm chair, legs stretched.
yawns kept rolling
in slow progression
towards the boundary.

'are you well?’ i ventured.
'nothing wrong,’ said he.

stammering, i quizzed him:
which one do you fear most?
allopathy, ayurveda, or
homeopathy?

dear wilson,
have you observed sachin
facing the ***** of shane warne?
brian lara, wasim akram?
chris gail, brett lee?

i was thrown into confusion.

death admitted, unwillingly,
that like vivian richards
confronted narendra hirwani,
he was laid low by the
secret herb
of an old tribal man!

aaha! the panacea
became then
a spin ball!
(aaha…Nothing official about it!)

i forgot to ask
how our people
smuggled away by him
were faring now.

he forgot to comment
“you will see for yourself
when you face it.”