overarching newborn smiles
yellow sun on green leaves
greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
oasis of the summertime

the promise of a dozen flowers
to monkeys of golden branches
summer's sins would be redeemed
by salted raw mango slices

the albums of the memories
echoes of a simpler past
I'm crazily hung on its arms
and cuddling the longed leaves

the scent of summer mangoes
pulls us closer to the seed
when eye closes for a dream
for the emerald is like a magnet.

the rooftop of boyhood-life
shines among fallen leaves
the treasure hunt for another bite
with bees,and monkeys;crazy sunlit,

the stories of my old granny
emerge the flavored palette
within mother queen's dishes~
the golden salty slices

the taste of magnifera indica
connects the lands of our subcontinent
The secular religion of our nations
the lesson is not complicated,

the gift of Indian summer
wrapped among jade leaves
decadent whiff and scent,
loops me into time travel,
to youth, when all was well;

the last slice of the seasonal bite
portraits of unheard prattle
of mighty trunk and the poet
under the shades of nature's battle.

It takes me back
It pulls me close
To itself, I cannot leave
ln my dreams
While I dose
The summer scent of mango tree

I remember well
When we were young
My friend and I hung on its arms,
Cuddling the leaves.
Now remain
Just memories, echoes of a simpler past

The flowers promised
June was close
Summer's sins would be redeemed
By the childhood paradise
Salted raw mango slice

Overarching newborn smiles
Yellow sun on green leaves
Greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
Oasis of the summertime

I remember picking them up
From the rooftop of boyhood-life
Our winged friends came, bees, monkeys too
Attempting another bite

Fond, fond memories
Mother used to cut and bring us mangoes
While I tasted the golden slice
My granny told me stories of
The tree, it stood there when they built this house
When she was eight or nine

This fruit, this taste
Connects this land
Magnifera indica
The secular deity of the mango nation
You cannot begin to understand

The gift of Indian summer
My childhood wrapped in emerald leaves
The whiff, the scent, I transcend
Time;go to an age when all was well
Or at the least, to me it seemed

As I'm taking a bite of this season's last mango
As the golden drops stick to my pubescent stache
I remember a conversation I had

The mango tree
It talked to me
No, I'm not crazy
It was the mango tree

Little things in life
Leave something
Oh!so many memories

I had only contempt for him.
An Amul baby, all the way.
I made fun of him
At newsrooms and in debates.

One such day,
I was at my best
Finding faults and laughing my heart out
At the expense of that Amul baby.

All of a sudden
A voice from nowhere
Pulled me down to earth,
And said thus.

You made fun of me, didn’t you?
You called me an Amul baby
That baby who gave its toothless smile
And made baby noises to its grandma,
Did you hear the sound of bullets
That punctured its soul?
When it ran, calling out to its father,
Did you find blood splattering on its little dress,
From a body that was blown to smithereens
Like a chain of firecrackers?

That voice was
Dripping water on me,
Blown, burnt and scattered as I was.

My blistered contempt
Has a lingering slight irritation now.

#Rahul Gandhi
#RG
#kuzhurwilson
#poetry
#india

सत्य हैं तो हैं क्या
अगर हैं तो हैं कहा

क्या सत्य नश्वर हैं
सत्य के क्या स्वर हैं

क्या सबका सत्य एक हैं
या सत्य भिन्न,अनेक हैं

क्या सत्य हमेशा वही रहेगा
या समय के साथ पल-पल बदलेगा

किसका सत्य सत्य हैं
क्या कोई भी सत्य सत्य हैं?

Pots, pans and plates
Pots, pans

And the larder
A ghost house
Trembling

The larder
Stocked with oats and rice
Pots

And when it is time to cook
And then the gas stove is lit for
A feast

Pots, pans and plates
- Rows of jars line
The windowsill

Preserves, chutneys, jams
Preserves, chutneys
- and mango atchar

That reminds me
Of India
Oh! Lord Gandhi!

Never by a house far from the school
I've learnt in these 17 years
Mine one's quite far
It's good though
Least they say so
Anyways

As bell rings to dismiss our tardy souls
I run and hop on the van
Bigger boys crack crude, sexist joke on the way back home
I sit silently
Revolting within
Wonder if they'll change
Whatever

The van stops unexpectedly, punctured,
On a crossroad, I'm on my own now
I walk towards an auto
He says 15
I sit in the one which costs a rupee less
Great savings!

In front of me is an old, poor man
Blind I presume(not the driver)
I wonder how he gets by
Somehow, definitely
I wonder how they live

Next me sits a boy of same age
Staring at the formulae
In preparation for his engineering exams
Since he was
I glance at his doodles
Sad
Whether he'll pass I wonder
Whether he wants to....
Nevertheless

I stop at the park near my home
That's the farthest they'll go
He checks the coins diligently and vrooms away
I amble
Beneath the summer sky
They cut a tree for the cable
They always do
I guess that's more important

Posters of manifestos
Of various parties lie round
Selling dreams
To those who'll buy

***** stenches as I near the street
A Mercedes goes by
I look round
Ignoring the girl begging
Like everyone else
'They'll buy drugs'
My mom says
'So what?'
I wonder some days
Anyhow

The lanky mad dog
Who's nobody's
Never will be anybody's
Welcomes me
As I open the gate

The rest of the day's less eventful
Internal turmoils
Seem vainer
In the daylight

We get by
Somehow
Hanging on a thread
Of unfulfilled dreams

Everyone strives
For something better
All don't get it
But..
Nonetheless

They had nothing to give
To their motherland
Except their mortal lives
So they gave it cheerfully
Without a second thought
To see her wrinkled smile

These road on which we stand today
Were built upon layers of stone
And skulls of warriors great
This freedom wasn’t free
Of cost. Their debt we must pay.
Each and every day.

Two brothers fought
None won
Both lost
Freedom exacted a dear cost

As the clock struck twelve
On that August day
From heaven the martyrs cried
Their dream
Their struggle
For which they died
Was finally realized

The dawn was breaking
It was history in making
The charkha of time had turned
After so many years
A nation was waking
Up