Mulling over a poem,
While awaiting cigarettes
At the grocery,
The one from Kasargod asked

Is your women here?

I got startled for a moment,
Wondering whether he saw
Everyone inside me

O grocery person from Kasargod,
Who labels the many inside a single female by one word,

Leave me there,
You go into my poem….


*In Malabar, in ordinary parlance, they say “women” when they mean one woman.
I confronted this way of speaking more after reaching the Gulf.

Was getting ready
To interview
Someone
Who goes to and from the office
Daily in an ambulance

All questions
About death
Were interrupted by life

So I changed track
And ferreted about for questions on life
Then death too barged in

About an ordinary vehicle becoming an Ambulance,
About an ambulance becoming
An ordinary vehicle

A casual end,
As if there is no homework needed
For the world’s most boring interview.