a wasp flew a straight line
from its nest to me
cloaked in puny sunshine
it thought itself to be free
unheard was its buzzing
unseen its rainbow wings
untold was what it carried
i only felt it sting
the suspension like a drawn sword
cut through the silence within
the absence of feeling retrieved
was healed by the relief of loss
an epitaph if to be given
would affirm the infinity of the end
a promise given in portions
partitioned to satisfaction
make one see through the gloss
to the plainness within
that grieves in honour and truth
shedding tears of blood
it tastes the purest fruit
in the acceptance of its pain
lies the moral of our story

- Sneha Iyer & Vijayalakshmi Harish
   04.01.2012
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish & Sneha Iyer

a wasp flew a straight line
from its nest to me
cloaked in puny sunshine
it thought itself to be free
unheard was its buzzing
unseen its rainbow wings
untold was what it carried
i only felt it sting
the suspension like a drawn sword
cut through the silence within
the absence of feeling retrieved
was healed by the relief of loss
an epitaph if to be given
would affirm the infinity of the end
a promise given in portions
partitioned to satisfaction
make one see through the gloss
to the plainness within
that grieves in honour and truth
shedding tears of blood
it tastes the purest fruit
in the acceptance of its pain
lies the moral of our story

- Sneha Iyer & Vijayalakshmi Harish
   04.01.2012
   Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish & Sneha Iyer

Co-written with my akku Vijayalakshmi Harish :)

I swallowed her and now
She lives inside me or I live
Through her, we are alive.
I’m her friend, her teenage
And fantasies, a sixty year old-
Hair and books she ever read
Long distance phone calls
And delight matched our
Love for Sujata, Mr And Mrs Iyer
And I sat on her couch on my
Despised vacations sketching
Letters to Milena, Quabbani
And we spoke of her brothers,
Generations and cafes I went.
I’m Delhi, Bangalore and
Endless conversations-
She never met and she’s my
Lost Malayalam, postcards and
A world so familiar, a childhood.

Hold your breath and relax
I’m going to stay and listen
Till you are out of stories and
I repeat, remind and you smile.
I’ll get you melodies and 60s
Harold Robbins and Nutan,
Your weirdness and aloofness.
You don’t grow old with me
I’ll live, I promise as your fonts
Visit places you walked and
Write to you all, deep- blue
Letters, deep- blue-letters.
You are my first high-heels
Strawberry fields and music system
I’ll recite you a love story
Picture him as our classic heroes
And giggle as girls sixteen and
Seventeen. You swallowed me
And I live through you, we’re alive.

Hey 2020, you gave us Corona,
Hey 2020, you gave us Nisarga,
Hey 2020, you gave us Amphan,
Hey 2020, you gave us racism,
Hey 2020, you gave us Hanta,
Hey 2020, you gave us locusts.
2020 we realized that you are tough but my darling we are tougher.
We hope we will successfully mould you into good one.
--Jayalalita B Iyer

This quarantine teached us manythings,
Work can be done without going to office,
Importance of humans,
Food should not be wasted,
Teaching online,
How to value human beings,
Cleanliness is very important.
Yes, this quarantine teached us many Things.
--Jayalalita B Iyer

Not Black,
Not white,
Nor Brown,
If it is living being,
It matters.
Love all,
Be kind,
Be happy.
--Jayalalita B Iyer

Hey Corona!!
You made our life tough,
We cannot freely *****.
Even locusts entered our bough,
But our farmers will remove you just by plough.
You are a guff,
People got cough.
We can't touch any stuff,
Life has become rough.
But you don’t know that we are scruff,
Our brave doctors and police are enough.
Go Corona!!
--Jayalalita B Iyer

Drop by drop the drizzling started,
The sweet smell of mud started to spread around.
The cloud started to speak,
The air started to dance.
It chilled out everywhere.
Rain, Rain, Rain
You are the best season of all.
--Jayalalita B Iyer

"... in the end, all our journeys have to bring us home." -from "The Art of Stillness" by Pico Iyer

Making home
written June 19th, 2020

For some home is the place they start
The place in their hearts
That was love safety comfort
And so they spend their lives
Trying to get back there.

For others of us
That place we were born
Is something to be survived
Escaped from as soon as possible.

So we journey through life
Finding people
and places
and treasures
and memories
To build our home of.

Making for ourselves
This thing called home.