Beneath the gulmohar tree
In flamboyant love
A tale of our desires
Coloring each other
A bright vermillion
Under his crimson spread
Shaded in blissful haven.

Reaching for his branches
Clasping, holding
Climbing, swinging
Chasing, laughing
Under a bright shower of scarlet petals
Of hearts and heat, of love and life
Blooms of a scorching Indian summer.

In flames, his vibrant burning crown
His canopy, flaunting festive tangerine blossoms
Crinkled teasing petals
One upright
Of quaint innocence in white
Splashed with  feisty passion's red
Celebrating and anticipating
In celebration of us, our love
Anticipating rain..
As his branches reach high for promising dark clouds.

Serenading with the music of the monsoons
Moist leaves of the gulmohar glisten
With wind and water, in gentle rhythm
Raindrops nestle for a moment
Before sliding, slipping
On damp, satiated earth
Strewn bright with scattered orange petals
Of the gulmohar
Drenched and soaked like us.

Lost in his thoughts
With her eyes closed
Waking up from her fancy
By the call of a pigeon
With a message from him
Conveying to meet him
Near the river side
Of the Gulmohar tree
Hearing the trumpet of
The evening conch

With an acceptable smile
Ready in his favourite
Shining peach fruit dress
Wide eyes with black kajal
Long black hair decorated
With magical fragrance
Of buds of jasmine flowers
Colourful bangles filling
Her soft wheatish hands
With musical bands

Sitting under the flame tree
Decorated with beautiful
Orange-red Gulmohar petals
Waiting for her beloved
Lasting the wait till dawn
But never did he come
Flowing kajal with her tears
Turning her to black cheeks
Back to her despondency
Like a broken soul

Comes again the pigeon
With a message on its body
Written by human blood
Dear, move on in your life
I am, no more in this life
Jasmines giving an odour
Bangles becoming colourless
Kajal, blurring her vision
Falling down on the floor
With her eyes closing !

the sun hid behind the clouds
causing the 9am sky to be a dusty blue
with rays of sun peeking through every now and then
it was mid-winter and the air was crisp
it smelt of the new year, full of hopes and dreams, love and life
the two of them were found sitting at a little table at a room-large restaurant
in the crowded, busy city center
she wore a pale yellow shalwaar kameez
with a light brown pashmina shawl draped around her narrow shoulders
to protect her from the frosty wind which blew back her dupatta
he still had sleepy eyes and unmade bed hair
she'd dragged him out of bed a little too early
it had been a long night, and it had taken a lot of strength to leave his blanket in the early morning hours
but looking at her eccentric face right now made him realize he'd leave anything to be with her right now
she asked him what he wanted to eat
and he was pulled out of the trance, staring into her green-brown eyes reflecting in the morning sun
"jo tum kaho" he smiled that little side smile at her, letting her order for him
the smile she had fallen in love with on the very first day
8 months ago, in the middle of summer when fate intervened and crossed their paths
she called the waiter and ordered two cups of chai and asked him to bring her parathas straight off the stove
"and keep them coming!" she yelled after the waiter who walked a few steps away to the tiny corner kitchen wide enough for a single man, maybe two
"keep them coming?" he looked at her, a little skeptical
"trust me on this one" she smiled widely at him, "if you can't eat them, i will"
that made him laugh, he knew she wouldn't be able to handle more than two
but he just smiled & nodded, anything she wanted, anything she desired, he couldn't help but grant her
she kicked off her khussas and scrunched her knees on the plastic garden chair
closing her eyes and inhaling the winter air
he looked at her and thought to himself
she is my breath of fresh air
and somehow, call it a sixth sense, she noticed his eyes on her
"kya dekh rahey **?" she pouted her lips
"bus...tumhey" he laughed
she hid her face in her dupatta
"stop it!" she giggled
he leaned over the table and pulled her dupatta away, lowering his voice as he said
"you're beautiful"
she caught her breath, lost in his mahogany eyes- strong, protective, loving
the waiter interrupted them, placing their order on infront of them
"yay. khaana's here! she yelled
to be honest, she was thankful it had come
she felt embarrassed by the grip his gaze had on her
and she was a little hungry too
she reached for a paratha, immediately pulling away and ****** her fingers
"it's too garam" she made a face
he split the paratha, unflinching, and gave her half
"i'm still stronger than you." she said
"i know." he made a kissy face at her
she wanted to reach over and kiss his pouting lips
but she she pretended as if she as unconcerned and began her food
a paratha and a cup of chai later she put her hands on her stomach
"i'm full"
he looked at the three parathas infront of them, the waiter bringing the fourth as per the order
he shook his head
"tum bhi na."
he told the waiter to parcel the rest of the food as he took the last sip of chai
the caffeine worked its way through his body and he stretched away the sleep
"you're full? chalo, okay, i had planned on ordering gulaab jamuns for dessert. i guess i'll have to eat them alone."
her mouth opened in shock, then, realizing he was joking, she smiled cheekily
"i always have space for a gulaab jamun or two."
he laughed, wondering how she managed to make him fall deeper in love with her as the moments passed
they sat under the shade of the gulmohar tree and ate their dessert in silence
taking in the beauty of the weather, of the city, of each other, of the moment
and as the sun reached for the sky, higher and higher
she reached for his hand
gentle, kind, warm
her touch sent a buzz through his body
"i love you" she whispered
he could only stare at her delicate pink lips as she spoke
realizing he had found within her an everlasting future
he smiled at the thought
he'd never thought he'd fall in love with such a silly, gulaab jamun-loving girl
but now, it seemed like she was the only star in his night sky
his shooting star
his hope
**his love.

It poured a heavenly rain today
The roads washed anew
Little streams danced and slid down the alleys to the music rains play

The Gulmohar petals in orange red hues
Lay strewn on the pavement grey
Perched atop the green leaves
Glorious they looked in the warm sun rays

A walk in the evening mellowed rains
The tiny raindrops fell gently upon my face And raincoat peach
Luminous  under the street lamps
Silvery Rain-beams dance

Was it just a gulmohar tree?
or did it mean more?
will it be remembered for its shade,
or for the beautiful flowers it bore?
will it stand just as a memory,
hidden in some remote corner of the mind?
or will it remain alive forever
like a couplet
against the blows of time.
-Rakshinda

Draped in bridal red
Amidst widowed landscapes she stands
With her veil swaying gently in the breeze
And blossoms tinkling at her feet
Fractured light decorates her
Revealing rubies hiding in her tresses
She brings forth her veil
Shading weary scorched souls
An oasis
Amidst desolate desert sands
The forest fire rages
Against fate which brought upon us this drought
Rekindling hope
Of new birth and mercy
And rages
Until it's time for gentle showers and soothing greens
Then tired
Sleeps until the end of spring

Yesterday
Was in the ecstasy
Of realizing that
We were
Those two
On earth
Who liked bitter gourd curry
Cooked with coconut milk ….

Remember?
Think it was
In the sixth life.
We were
Two nascent bitter guards
On the pandal
Spread in the northern corner
Of the farmland
Belonging to a grandmother
In a village in Mississippi
Who used to attend to the orchards
Sitting in a wheelchair.

We had
Watched earth
And peeked
At the sky
Hanging from the same stalk
The scar left
From your tight clasp on my thigh
Scared
After spotting a double tailed pest
Is still there.

The pleasure of that pain
Makes me tearful now.

I am like the faces
In the house of deceased
Sobbing
At times  
Bursting into tears
The next moment
Holding back
After a while.

Sometimes
I am all the faces
In the house of the dead
Tears have
Nothing to do with them.

Sometimes
The wedding house
Will laugh and laugh
Till its cheeks hurt.

Just like you.

My dear bitter guard,
When will we
Go back to that
Pandal in Mississippi
Where we had pulsated
From a single stalk?

Aren’t we the ones
To offer obsequies
To that grandmother
Who looked after us
With pots
Of wholehearted love?



Translator - Shyma P


Shyma P : Works in Payyanur College, Payyanur. Translator and film critic. Has translated poems and articles in Malayalam Literary Survey, The Oxford India Anthology of Malayalam Dalit Literature, online magazines like Gulmohar, Readleaf Poetry as well as scripts and subtitles for short films.

already awaiting
another summer,

in great stillness,
to spread out over

the pruned grass and
mingle with the gentle

sway of the flowering
gulmohars...

Hear the gentle summer breeze
Whisking through gulmohar leaves
In the music of wind chimes
Tinkling songs of summer time
Feel her quiet on the skin
Filling hearts imaginings
See her as the blossoms dance
In the cusp of dawn's romance
In saplings that take a bow
In wind blown hair tousled now
Petals touched by her stir
Silken soft in gossamer
Light and dark shadows play
On shrubs of green bunched bouquet
While butterflies and bees sup
Drink nectar from sun's molten cup

Kadam yaadon ke ghere mein
Mera jab bhi kabhi padta
Woh aalam yaad aata tha
Woh aangan yaad aata tha

Woh dopahar mein gulmohar
Pe chadna yaad aata tha
Gulaabon, phal wa phoolon ka
Mehekna yaad aata tha...

Subah koyal ki ku ku ka
Woh shor o gul tha yaad aata
Agasi par tanhayi ka
Woh kona yaad aata tha

Har ek pal ki kahani thi
Woh dastaanon ka har lamha
Us chaukhat ka har ek paththar
Har zarra yaad aata tha

Falak par hi to hota hai
Tasawwur e irum aksar
Sama ki sar Zameen par tha
Jo "Firdaus" yaad aata tha

Padosi ka sulook e khair
Woh rishta yaad aata tha
Padosi ka hi phir hum par
Nishaana yaad aata tha

Woh kaalapan woh sannata
Woh buu e Raakh ka uthna
Mere armanon ke ghar ka
Jalana yaad aata tha

'Ain' ashq ab behta hai to kya
Mita to yeh nahi sakta
Khalish e qalb ka woh pal
Jo aksar yaad aata tha....

summer afternoon  
drifting into vision
gulmohar bloom

summer evening
does the breeze
dance or the tree?

summer bath
the shiver in
collected water

summer twilight
ma shops for
bigger buckets

summer dawn
music spills into
empty buckets

summer dusk
water tanker cuts
a snore into two

summer rain
*outstretched palm
barred window

Stay well, table, inviting me
to sit by your side, sipping tea,

stay warm, books, wrapped warm
in your covers, steeped in Spirit,

stay well, koel, sing the same way
every stuttering morning that
comes lisping in the winds
and the tongues of the swallows

stay well, gulmohar, ever
alive in a glow of blooms
warming bare the summer heart

stay well, pens, ever meditating
this way, conjuring up
all the stories I tell in verse

stay well, my droid phone,
go on, recharge yourself in your
morning asana tied to the mains

stay well, web, where I plug in
and broadcast my thoughts
and receive blessings and grace

the evening shadows of my psyche
stretch out  towards you
at the days end i await your arrival
when the world begins to stir
toward home or to the tavern
and the evening lamps sing
i seek you out
to walk alongside me
on my quiet path
with gulmohar carpets
and dusky branches
watching over us.
tarry awhile, walk slow
lest the moment flies by too fast
what else is there left to do
but share this nameless bond?

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
   09.01.2013
  Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish,

The stars come out slowly at night and tell me about a girl,
With eyes like the azure skies and hair like the grapevine twirl;
The flowing breeze avers the story of a woman with skin milky pure,
She smiles a saccharine smile it says, with an aura of tease and allure;
The clouds spill a secret on me; they rain their coolest waters,
You must find her they insist; she is one of God’s most beautiful daughters;

The chirping of the birds in the trees attracts me as if a message they are trying to send:
She lives in an Elysian palace beyond the horizon; is it there that my search will end;
In the cadence of the tides, I can vaguely hear a persistent, earnest request,
You must seek the flower of the flowers; you must seek the treasure chest;

She walks like falling leaves on a spring afternoon, when there's no summer zephyr,
Every step forward is an august swirl, her every grace is a tempting desire,
The bees dance to an inaudible tune, her they forever try to define,
The queen bee gives up thinking she must be an exquisite calligraphy, so very divine;
The Gulmohar tree grins, jealous of her flawless figure, unable to castigate her, he speaks:
‘She shines ivory white in a darkened cavern, as if formed by joining stalactite and stalagmite peaks’;
Stepping out of the shower of falling stars, dripping wet in a blinding light, her silhouette the night tries to disclose,
She looks like a freshly picked rose bud each time, lined with droplets of dew, her callow figure, half open half closed;

The Pyramids of Egypt narrate to me the day when God was in the mood to paint,
Cleopatra died of envy that day they say, and Aphrodite lost all her pride and became a saint;
It was the day when she was created, when God became an artisan without a cause,
Creating her, he lost his ardor; working on the astral canvass he removed all her flaws;
He gave her the candor of a little child when handed for the first time in the arms of its mother,
He gave her the eloquence of speech a nightingale has and the sensation like a tranquil pigeon feather;
She got the canter of the reindeers; she got the touch like spreading wildfire,
She got the brightest aureole; she got the love hidden in God’s deepest mire;

The rivers made me swear, this arcane knowledge to myself I must keep,
The mountains made me avow, that till I find her there is no food, no water, and no sleep;
The nature cajoled me into looking for this apocryphal woman and to this day I search,
I have capitulated my heart to her and she teases at me from her heavenly perch;
Looking askance at me, she calls, find me o' lover she says,
I know she’s worth it, that’s why I still roam in winding ways….
I know she’s worth it, that’s why I still roam in winding ways….

Each couple is stopped on the way
this March spring hour
with the city attired at its best
with gulmohar and flame of the forest
in mad bloom of yellow and red
and the hand touches each head
adorned with the season's flower

blessed be your love
blessed be your luck

and most of them yielded
to the blessings of the ******!

Friday                                                           ­                11:45a.m
Earth's oldest band: Thunder was having a concert on clouds
And raindrops wearing anklets
danced in her verandah
The wayward wind tickeled the branches
of Gulmohar tree,
And the newborn leaves wondered who it was?
There she was...in the warmth of moment
listening to the untold stories of faraway lands.

A distant gulmohar in full bloom calls the helpless insomniac bird to rest on it's ****** blossom,a miraculous tree with no roots,sprouting out of the ocean so vast,sky ahead without visible end,yet flies the bird to the horizon.
Why do you fly therewards?I ask,says the humble bird to me,this 'i' is only a part of the whole me,a flock riveting with love and life itself,I go to me.
My human tongue tells the bird,a certain end awaits his fall.says the ethereal being to me,I know not what may befall,but I hear sweet voice of one I seek and that have I made my call.

THOSE PRECIOUS LITTLE THINGS!
Dear friends, our very life and existence being transient and ephemeral, I have learnt to love those little things which provides me pleasure and happiness! Hope you like this short reflective poem. With best wishes, – Raj Nandy, New Delhi, 21 JAN. 2023.


THOSE PRECIOUS LITTLE THINGS!
Little things of life I have learnt to love and
enjoy.
Rays of the radiant sun streaming through
the window of my study;
Along with a glimpse of the radiant blue sky,
Dew drops on a blade of grass shimmering
in the early morning light.
Even a beam of the golden moon is enough,
To make me heave a nostalgic sigh!
Yet for some, enough is never enough,
As they try to cling on to those ducats,
Which slipped through miser Shylock’s
fingers when he died!    (see photo)

Butterflies multi-colored wings,
Parrot feather of emerald green,
The sight of a Gulmohar tree in bloom
ablaze with tinges of yellow and red, -
Are enough, and my day gets made!
And so are those pearly drops of tears
shed from your doe-eyed eyes,
shall suffice,
To bid me farewell on my demise!
                           -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

Contextual. I don't
get that much-I ask. How difficult
it was to remain like gulmohar

A collision course will meet you
tomorrow.You were a step forward.
I was held back to know the truth.

You were always orange
and red. I want to remain a human being.
I tell explicitly. You were Agni.

Delonix regia

MUNIYA

One Summer day of May
Gulmohar, bright and gay
Red blossoms hugging her
Embracing the tiny visitor
Feathered, brown coloured
Small sized, sparkling eyed
Gregarious and melodious
Muniya, the bird vivacious.

She merrily flew in and out
With twigs, figs in her snout
Framing her cosy little nest
By putting in the very best
She laid eggs, pearly white
Sentiments intensely bright
Mystic Muniya motivated
Elated, she daily incubated.

That noon, warm oppressively
All birds screamed aggresively
Slender satan climbed devilishly
Muniya fought back vigourously
Birds pecked the foe ferociously
Serpent slithered surreptitiously
Gulping the eggs remorselessly
All unborn perished noiselessly.

Muniya wailed loudly, bitterly
Her world shattered suddenly
Pain, loss penetrating the soul
Depressing, difficult to console
Emotions enveloping the avian
Her unborn drifted into oblivion  
Misty eyed, she fled mournfully
Misty eyed, I prayed soulfully.

One fine bright summer day of May
To my surprise on my verandah lay
Muniya, her eggs in salubrious nest
Fervent feelings felt, of fest, of zest
Venturing in and out gregariously
Savouring sprouts, seeds ravenously
Muniya nourishing new beginnings
Making new innings, new winnings.

@ Preeti Pathak