Was driving
To shivaraathri manappuram [1]
With idichakkas [2]
To meet you
One day.

Enroute
To a vow made one life
The two chakka dumpkins
Their smug demeanor
Drove me to chuckles.
Like guys  
On a global tour  
They  
Waved buddies bubye
Babbled on
To the jackfruit trees
On the boulevard
Singing “salaama salaama…”
The jackfruit rap
Boisterously.
I was beside myself
With laughter.
The exertion
Exhausted my cheeks
I stopped near a shop
For a cigarette
Saw there,
Two packets
Of fried chakka chips
Among other snacks.
My chakka dumpkins
For you
Overwhelmed them
They broke into tears
They recalled
Their haughty ride
In a car once
Singing salama
A festering past
That throbbed with
The agony  
Of getting torn to shreds
Of getting fried crisp
In boiling oil.
The chakka dumpkins
Were dumbstruck
They stopped singing
And began to cry
Looking upon their sisters
Sister, you have forgotten me!
An utterance from Khasak
Muffled the scene.
Sad at their plight
I held them close
My chakka dumpkins
For you
Forget it honey
Forget it dear
I patted them
Trying to stop their tears.
The chakka fries
And my darlings
Continued weeping
And wailing.
I smoked a cigarette
Went to them
And whispered in their ears
That I am consigning them
To you.
They laughed innocently
Showing their gums
They bid adieu to
The sisters
Promising
They would meet next life
I felt like
Laughing
And crying.
Laughing
And crying
I sang

Salama, salama
Salama….


Translation  : Shyma P

Good night, bonne nuit
Oyasamina sai, buenos noches,
Lala salama, wan an,
Spokoinyui noche, gute nacht,
Lila tov
Wherever you rest your
Head tonight
We are all one family
Let’s hold tight
and fill the world with
Dreams of Harmony
tonight.
No matter what words we use to say… goodnight…

My baby sings to me sometimes

A gift of wind from her lungs. Giving up the thing they love the most.

She explains to me “Mpenzi, wakati mwingine inabidi tujitoe sadaka”

Meaning “My love, sometimes we have to sacrifice”

I know the tale more than most. My mother was a sun too in love with the stars so she gave us some of her bright and sat on the throne of the moon, watching us shine on the midnight of her skin.

My baby sings to me sometimes

Songs about trees, but not the brown of the branches but the dark of her roots, the basin of her belly where her pride comes from. Just like that of her mother and her mother before her.

“Umekula leo?” “Have you eaten today?”, “because it is the nature of my hands to care for your body, and the nature of my heart to care for your soul”.

My baby sings to me sometimes

She hums “lala salama” like a ritual to chase away night mares.

She whispers “nakupenda” like she doesn't trust her lips to say what her heart means.

And she sings, like only queens do, like only dreams do.

My love, I have gathered your voice in the desert of my favourite memories, and yours is the background music to everything good that has ever happened to me.

So sell me your whisper, and hum me a song about stars and midnight and moons that used to be suns. And I will pay the price, I will peel the skin from my secrets and show you all the parts of me where I hide God.

Because  wakati mwingine inabidi tujitoe sadaka, but most times we don’t.

Maha salama

You cried.
I did not want to hurt you
But I wanted you to cry.
I left you alone to wipe away the tears.
Otherwise,
I would have kissed them away.

When you returned to the room,
You seemed lost,
Searching for the lost thing
Or a thing to replace the lost thing
Why?
You hugged me
I did not want to hurt anyone
But I wanted you to hug me
I felt your body in my arms
The strap of your bra
So many times I looked at your lips

But I am not the man I was -
I am me.
I had pull myself out of a deep pool
A pool of despondency
A pool of emptiness
A pool of Loneliness.
Have you been there?

I used to fear that one day I would run out of words.
That I would put pen to paper and spill expired honey too sticky to lift,
But now I know there's still a thousand ways to say your name
I know S can be a silk bridge like Lala salama or bright like sunrise or asante
So today when I say babe
Let your ear convince your heart that it is not broken
I have tried and failed a thousand times to write a poem about butterflies, french fries and you
But if the past year has taught me anything it's that relationships cannot just float on two lungs sacrificing oxygen for a kiss
And no matter how much you fit between my ribs I still have to rip open my skin to let you in
So I don't promise butterflies anymore, but I promise to give you the universe, with all the good and bad that comes with it
And if I cannot be there know that I will always be here, so don't be afraid to fall
I trust the earth to spin fast enough to send me your way every so often
Let me be your wave and you will be the rocky shore, tempting sea levels like me to rise.
Let me hide my fears in the space between your eyelashes and watch you blink beautiful.
So as you watch me stumble in the dark searching for where the tunnel starts, having faith that I will remain the boy of your dreams and become the man of your prayers. Know that I remember all the places I buried my smile and all the times you've gone grave robbing.

She whispered in my ears all her broken dreams
And I stood there, afraid. I did not move.
She held me and she tore her fingers on my broken edges and as I tried to run away she
Pulled me closer and watched the blood in some sort of fascination.
Nothing scared her.

So I stood there watching the blood fall in red soundless drops and mix with her tears
By her feet. She was angry at her tears.
Because women don’t cry.
She wouldn’t let me free myself from her grip and I said I did not want her to bleed any more
But she would have none of it.
She wants a man that will wipe her tears, she said-
Tears are the blood of the unseen wounds
And such are the wounds we need most protection from.

So I stood there, holding her. I tried not to move.
I hoped that standing still would keep her hands from bleeding more but she ran her hands all over my jagged edges. She said that it was a metaphor. That it should mean something.
But she kept crying and I fought myself off of her. I fetched her water to clean her wounds but she laughed and pushed it aside.
Play some music instead, she said.
The wounds I must clean are unseen-
Only angels can fight demons
Only beauty can erase the ugly
And only light can ***** out the darkness.

So I played her some music.

And then I stood there watching her move her head along to that
Lala Salama song
Like certain worlds had been hidden in its words.
She danced until the song was over and still she danced to the silence
Her eyes closed and her head always shaking. Always.

When she was done she asked me what I had seen
and I told her that I had seen her dance and that I had seen
her close her eyes and that I had seen her sing along silently.

She jumped at me. She was angry.
These are not the things you were supposed to see, she said.
These are not the words you were supposed to say.
And she opened the door and walked out.

Now I listen to that song.
Maybe I shall hear what it is I was supposed to be listening for.