I KNEW MY MOM

She crawled towards me,
as though she knew.

On two hands and legs
she looked so cute.

The musk smell between my breasts
and the smell of milk, she knew.

When she was adament
she knew I would stoop to carry her.

And when she fell
she knew I would hold her by her hands.

I would loose my temper
and she would smile at me.

She would cry
and I would break.

Then I realised
she already knew her MOM

Again the Beginning

I looked into the mirror,
And found myself looking parched.
I, covet for water and air.

The waters I looked into,
Are still and lifeless
And the air, foul.

I’m waiting for a magic wand
Or a wizard to come my way
With inspiration and all.

Then I looked at the clear black eyes
The naive one in my arms
She is the bright tomorrow, I see

Amongst all struggles,
Disappointments
She will bind us together,
Me and my life.

Frivolous Winds

They were their all the time,
Around me, beside me.
But I noticed them less.

Like friends they buzzed,
beside me.
Like enemies they rampaged too.

But sometimes they sooth,
Your pains away.
A mild touch of ecstasy.

They make the trees sway.
The waters repel,
And desiccate the tears running down the cheeks of a hungry child.

They come with news,
Both good and bad alike.
Some call them “winds of change”

My wind is like a ghost,
Reminds me of my lover’s touch.
Playing on my hair and my skin.

Frivolous they are,
Like lovers at bay
They kiss and enjoy being caressed.

The Guerilla Maestro (Dedicated to Che Guevara)

The Guerilla maestro,
Was shot 4 times.
He writhed in pain,
Yet didn’t open his mouth to shout.

He bit down
his wrist, to suppress the pain.
And screamed,
For more to come his way.

They put 5 more bullets
In his shoulder and head.
That made the fighter stop,
A huge mistake it was, they realized.

9 bullets it took,
To put a man to sleep.
Yet they didn’t stop,
They amputated his arm, for investigation.

Candor and parity
He fought for, till the end.
“It is not interpretation of the world we require.
It is transformation,” he said.

They found similarity
Between him and Christ.
The images almost a look alike.
When placed in the laundry house of the Vallegrande hospital.

He too was tricked, cheated and betrayed
The end so similar.
To that of Christ
One was kissed by his partisan and the other by his war ally.

The Son of God
Was rejected by his own.
The guerilla maestro
Was repudiated by the people he fought for.

Death came to both.
Alike and yet.
Death was itself petrified,
Thinking whom he had to ascend on.

I TOOK MY SHADOW FOR A WALK

She was my cohort
(My best of friends)
I sang soliloquies to her.
(And she was my silent listener)

We are bound together,
And it is nature’s well.

Sometimes I followed her,
Other times, she followed me.

When she was tall, slim and beautiful
I wished I was she.

She reassured me out rightly,
When I endured a bad hair-do-day

She stood by me in my tribulations
Fighting the heat of the day.

At night, she rested at my feet,
Cozy and snuggled.

Some asked me
“Who is your best friend?”
I did say,
“Who else would it be???”

We saw the sun rise together,
The beacon colour the sky.

The mallow coloured itself
Pink and blue, in front of our eyes.

Together we drank the cup of splendor,
Of rivers, hills and mountains alike.

“Who could savor nature thus?”
Better than you and I

Me and my shadow.

An Ant’s Glory

I saw an ant
Climb up the wall,
With a small morsel of bread.

Petite in size and six legged,
He seemed busy in his task.

He struggled to lift it,
Hold it between his mouth,
And even tried to push it.

But the morsel of bread
Showed no effort to budge.

He had no plans to take leave
Of his unfinished job.

He labored hard to carry
The minute piece of bread
Half way up the wall.

He stopped to breath
A second. Afraid his meal would fall off.

He pushed and nudged
Feeling no remorse
Towards his goal, his home.

Success by his side,
I saw him look back, down the wall
The struggle was worth it, he smiled…

“The need of a Servant”

Cajoling myself to wake up
At 9am in the morning,
I wait for my lady;
Lady of great help.

Clad in a sari,
Moving in an extremely fast pace
She comes into my home
At 9:30am every morning.

I can hear the dishes fly,
The clothes being wrenched,
Thadum, thadum
Are the different noises I hear.

She must be angry,
Or pissed off;
I wonder.
As long as my work gets done.

She moves around the house
Like a rabbit in haste.
Not a paper moved,
Not a rack moved, yet cleaned.

By two hours,
Work is done.
And off she goes
Turning just to say “kallambarai”

Callous Deeds

Who was responsible,
of putting me there?

In my mother’s womb
Like a seed on a plant’
I lay in silence.

I was conceived,
In the nights of torment.
Vultures preying around for feed.

There were screams and requiem
Of wailing women
For all of their children were killed.

I heard them all
In silence, yell and screech
For blood torn and spilt.

Calm I lay in silence,
Afraid to let know
Of my being.

Flushed down a toilet,
Or stubbed out like a cigar,
My being will be.

Ho! How inhumane can they be?
Blood for blood they take
Eye for an eye.

I pity that woman, who carried me,
To the end she fought.
Her struggle, in vain.

Lay in silence
Dead!!!
On the footpath by the road.

The last heartbeat frail,
To death I sleep
No fear in me no more……

HONOUR KILLING

They caught me by my hair,
dragged me to the wilderness
I was beaten and slippered
all because I was in love.

In my ear I could hear my husband,
Scream and howl in pain.
they stripped him of his clothes,
And dragged him to the west.

Blood for honour they asked,
all because of love.
How many will you kill
in the name of caste and creed?

How many will you torture
in the name of family honour?
There are a few things
that hate boundaries.
How will your powers stand against them?

So kill, drag, slipper us
Burn us alive.
Let your honour and pride live longer,
and let your near and dear die.