My skin has been
too tight, too old, suffocating
too rough scaly calloused
you dont know my struggle
trying to rupture it
gasping from every pore
writhing sweating shaking
silently screaming.

In the dead of the night
struggling shedding moulting,
I shall emerge breathing free
young and shiny
a new me
in my new world, new skin.
in my newfound sheen,
I shall at last smile

Tomorrow's sun too will smile
on greener canopies
and verdant vistas
on gurgling streams
and sloping roofs
on shoeflowers and 'mukkootti' and 'thumba'
and on happily jobless cicadas
with their day-in day-out whirrings
and on idle summer koels
with their throats drunk from
too many sweet mangoes

Tomorrow's sun will smile
on men glistening with sweat
celebrating life
with the heady rhythms
of a thousand chendas
and caparisoned elephants
in ancient temples
under ancient banyan trees
and my ancient deities
will exult goose-pimpled
at the ancient crescendos
of the thousand drums
and I'll be goose-pimpled too
in my new young skin
with its newfound sheen.

You'll see me, maybe
in my folded-up mundu
walking freely among the paddies
or languidly swimming in the streams
I shall sing like the koel
whirr like the cicada
I shall kiss all the flowers
of my new home
and bring you its bouquet, maybe.
or maybe I shall sit still
under an ancient banyan
and pretend I'm an anthill.