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K Balachandran Apr 2019
1.
Tip toeing spring, hoists her electrifying colors again,
All round, with the attendent scents and sounds sublime!
I find myself mulling over the words my dad uttered,
Etched deep in my psyche, when we were still tiny tots!

"It's each one of us that makes them do it,
The birds on these trees around us, sing"

He made it mysterious, but it rang a bell, revealed things,
We realized each little deed of us, did impact the world.
I see the honeybees in the beehive are a cosmos themselves,
Their hum, cosmic  "Aum" reminds :'You are the universe'
2.
Mom goes out and fills all water containers to the full,
She does this every now and then, very dutifully, I can see
We watch with content, birds making a bee line to each
Fly down and drink water to their fill, day in and day out.
My sister goes around the courtyard sprinkling grains,
In plenty, for all the birds regular and new to our farm.
She keeps crumbs, grains, seeds left overs in open containers
At the places they freequent, convenient for avians to partake.
What we in this farm has to offer, whenever they are here.
All for love , exept for the hope of sonorous moments they gift!
3.
On the patio, all of us sit, together,  our inner ears open,
As if to listen a serenade, just for us,under the open skies,
The pure silence in the begining, gets sweeter by the minute,
The calves run out of the cow pen mirthfully springing
Seeking their mothers' udder, as they graze out on the green.
The mynahs, together in a tone, affectionate, begin
To chat, about the delights they find in our farmsted, I guess.
The bulbuls and sparrows in a similer mood, quickly join in,
Sing aloud the paeans, perrhaps, who knows, all of us.
Nothing new to us, just routine, followed each season.
Yet we sit as if it's a first, soaking in it's incessent rain,
Moments ethereal, full of nature's soulful music!
Melting in a meditative trance we take it all in,
Oh! how sublime is your music, that envalop us like light.
4.
Big jack fruits, ripened on  tall leafy trees,
Exude a dainty scent, most appitizing, it wafts in the air
Hoards of grey squrrirals, it attracts, noisily they descend
As dextrous they are in food finding expeditions on trees ,
Studiously they drill open the big pulpy fruit that hangs heavily,
Skillfully from all sides, as if seking a grand prize hidden in.
Happy chirps, tweets and songs of early birds become
More ecstatic and loud, as time goes by and more join in.
They flit around us, as if to greet and cheer us, becoming bold
As we huddle together feeling closer than ever in their presence.
Our eyes wide open, gleaming bright, hearts full of light,
5.
Grandma who briskly walked past ninety summers,
Happy tears glistenening in her eyes,
Now starts to sing, a lark on her wings..we are overwhelmed!
Transcending joys of many kind, we felt the magic,
Beyond the limits of mind to an intense spot,
A feeling as if we all are gently  holding hands,
Floating on the air, sans wings...
Then again I hear the chant, the words my dad uttered,
Who'd never come back again to put us under his spell.
"Spread love around, you'll be fine and the world"
Every bird joined in the chorus, as if to hail his golden words.
Memories from a childhood spent in a farmstead, speak...
Kuzhur Wilson Jan 2016
I was returning
Home
Yesterday
Along the walkway
Through the paddy field
All set for reaping.

As usual
It was dusk
You know
I don’t go
To the paddy field
Except in the evenings

An evening
Of a day
Suffused with
Sighs, monotony
And unpleasant jobs.

In the middle of
The daily
Skyward incantations
“Whom do I have
To claim as my own”
Got bored
Thinking about
The number of times
I have been doing the same.

You know
That boredom
Makes me miserable

Facing
That ripened paddy field
I lighted yet another cigarette

For a moment
Had plans
To set
The crowless
Heaps of hay
On fire

Imagined
A cigarette
Resembling a bundle of hay

Suddenly
You walk
In front of me

Trance like
Unaware of paddy stalks
Chatting to you
Or the two homebound mynahs
Passing comments at you

A leaf of the coconut tree
Sang a song
About you

You weren’t listening
Or seeing anything

You were the swiftness
Of a deer
Leaping
From one life to another

You were walking
The world expelled
Out of you.

Amidst the tenth puff
In the interval of a sigh
I saw you approaching me
You didn’t talk to me
Or show signs of seeing me
You are about to pass me now
And quite unlike you
You had your hair, ******* and face draped
By a shawl
No, that shawl
Was not violet in color

I hadn’t seen
Such a
Forlorn
And distressed walk
In any of my
Past lives

I realized that
You were crying
While walking
I saw
The seeds of your tears
Fall and germinate
In the walkway of the field
I feared
It would grow
Into a forest

You are leaving
Without a backward glance

My melancholy
Where did you go
Yesterday
Leaving me
All alone?



translator  : Shyma P
P Venugopal Jan 2016
Quiet, the bamboo grove—
from each drooping leaf-tip hangs
a drooping dewdrop...

The same footprints,
coming and going, coming and going,
along the long trek path,
changing shape,
uniformly...

Naked feet tapping down the steps,
I halt—the pond in dawn-chill haze...

Mynahs a dozen—
hop, hop, hop, pick...hop, hop, pick—
dewdrops on wet grass...

And in the visitor’s room,
the chair tilted at this angle,
I see,
reflected on the window pane,
the entire stretch of an empty corridor—

Surely, a great omen!
The cuckoo with its red beaded eyes feasted upon the red seeds from the champaka tree
While the crow waited for its turn
A couple of parrots
And  baby mynahs too
All of them live in peace and harmony
Sharing from the same tree
Last monsoons the Champak tree
Was all abloom
The breeze lightly swayed the branches
The heady fragrance wafted through the air

The monsoon showers
this year
Wilted away the flowers
too soon

Less is more, I do believe
As the blooms wilted away too soon
Now the tree laden with fruits, ripe and red
Inviting birds of many species
Mornings are especially beautiful
Waking up to chirps and tweets
Of many a mynahs, bulbuls and
purple-yellow sunbirds

This morning as I watched them feast
To my surprise
There was, Indian grey hornbill
Beautiful and majestic as it can be

— The End —