Monday, March 9, 2015

Kolam

Staircase leading to the kolam, pond
Moss-laden, slippery
Porus-bricks that looked like blocks of home-made mysurpa
And then khadhar mundu
The air threatening to assume the smells of 
the yellow Sunlight detergent and the dark-pink Lifebuouy toilet soap
A specific smell of the village.
Dark-green water with a sheet of shadow and dry falling-leaves.
They stood immersed in water
Nudging each other under the green water cover
Purposefully oblivious about the translucency of water
The slow-rapid growth of their parts 
From flat surfaces to little mounds
The waters knew clearly how much they had grown
For they felt the heaviness of the parts, with each passing year.





Pickle

Washed once, washed again, and again
Until the conspicuously accumulated 'dirt' was removed
Chopped, diced - in geometric shapes
Triangle, square, rectangle, cube
All shapes reflecting the soul of the main piece 
Yet every new geometric form threatening to claim importance
Their perpetrator thus sent them for a batch of sun-drying
Dried, wrinkled, they returned, 
Yet strong, as though they had digested the rays of the sun
Their vulnerability sent for a sun-bath
Returned with pickled-freshness
Leaving a mouth-watering taste
On the tongue, that stuck-out,
Inviting more vulnerability-
For vulnerability added to the spice 
More sun-bath, a whole new process of metamorphosis.


Sunday, March 8, 2015

570 dear

Headlights like ears, and a digital forehead-
A vehicle-kind that descended from the sets of Shankar's Urvasi Urvasi
With its wheels plying on the roads of generation 2K
As much as the song take-it-easy-policy makes you unwind,
Defeating the theory of Charles, elusive it never is.

Rahman and Ilayaraja played alike- drivers with an ear for music.
With the constant rhythm of the conductor's phrase- "ullava ullava!"(come in come in)
He is forever proud, flaunting its miraged sprawling spaciousness,
As though he owns the bus,
Taking account of every inch which was devoid of feet.

Myriad smells of toiletries from the bathrooms of software professionals
Threaten to remain fresh 
Circulating within the vents.
With music plugged in, books being read, Whatsapp screens nudged;
Virtual and real talks exchanged,
Laced with warm, familiar smiles amongst passengers.
A feeling of togetherness with the driver and his believers.
No rows assigned for "pengal" (women).
NO Gender Divide. Absolutely NONE.
Greets you with a hiss, when its doors open and close.





Saturday, February 28, 2015

Brinjal

The rotund brinjal went to the kitchen
With all the pride of an egotist.
A firm green stem atop,
And a matte-purple bottom,
Resembling the sketch of humpty-dumpty.
Ignorant about hitting its pyre
It seethed with life,
Displaying fullness.
Soon- its heart, pierced, and body burnt
Shedding tears, ego shrouded
Skin wrinkling, fullness shrinking.
Hissing with hesitation, the fat vegetable cried even more
The firm green stem remained
Only as a grip to strip the vegetable.
In all its famished benevolence,
Brinjal dear was soon food for the egotist human. 


Cusp

You know what, I know it now!
You are a cusp!
He whispered into her ears
She asked why in amazement
Shades of two
The thrill of being with two women at a time
Both satiating him equally
Like the Parijatha tree
Symbolising Rukmini and Satyabhama alike.
But Draupadi, is aided by Krishna too :
She retorted. 
And chose to remain a multi-shaded Cusp
Drinking up mirth from every glass
Living her living by the day
Forgot and remembered things per convenience
Insanely dumb, cusped-madness.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Rickshaw

They met in a night's dream
And chose to take a rickshaw ride
Their arms brushed as the rickshaw was pedalled 
Across the streets of the city
Whose air was laden with the smell of spices
Pepper, dry ginger and cardamom in particular
Their disposition was 
As modest as the mode of transport :
Little nothings were shared, and careful kisses planted 
Their fingers entwined, held tight,
Under the cloth- shelter of the rickshaw;
Stealing a look or two of each others' hidden naughtiness.
As they went past the spice city in gay abandon,
They dozed. 
From Dream to Reality.






Sunday, February 15, 2015

Girls

When their handwritings had not taken shape yet
As much as their chests hadn't;
Much before they knew what the word friend actually meant

Times when they were obliviously dressed in petticoats
Or even carelessly walked about in their red and green, particularly short PT skirts.
When they went about blowing a kiss to every red car they saw
Only to get get lucky with some favourite food of theirs back home.

They said the name of every car of their time that passed by :
Daewoo Matiz, Contessa Classic, Mitsubishi Lancer, Esteem and the likes,
Some silly fetish they had nursed to remember these names :
Lest they could even think of owning one!

Mathematics remained elusive, anything related would make them freeze in fear
They tried their best to just scrape through the exams :
By inspiring themselves with pretty stationery:
Smiley, Apsara and Natraj Pencil, Natraj and Faber Castle Eraser, Pens that had refills with incense.
Whatever they wrote would come out with a pleasant smell;
However Maths still stank for them, and vice versa!

At a time when The Hindu's Young World came out on Saturdays
The Mahabharatha on Sundays
Swabhiman, Junoon and Shanthi during the week
Their days were made, their childhood, pretty much the same!
Sunsilk shampoo came out with small pretty clips- pink, black, yellow and crimson hues
Their hair was long enough to be decked with these clips.
They went through the same drill for their hairgrowth :
Coconut oil followed by Clinic Plus or Sunsilk Shampoo.
Menstruation was almost together too-
They whispered and stayed-free...

They were together almost always,
Familiarity never bred contempt, even once.
Even as they parted from school, they kept in touch
In the most intimate manner:
Neither via phone calls, nor by meeting each other at their homes;
But through letters- they felt the sameness through their handwritings.

And then they remained elusive
Until recently when they first spoke on the phone
Not once they had realised how they sounded on the phone
How their voice had developed
What it meant to call each others' name on the phone
For they had always only met or written to each other!
They still had remained those girls of yonder in their heart
Regardless of the changes they had gone through.
For some strange reason, they looked the same.
Women of their thirties
With a shapely body and mind.