The shadow that moves near the sun-blanched banks
White flowers here and there
in the mist that spreads in the far-off mountains
Night seemed to be standing under the lush green foliage
left alone in the middle of the open fields,
to pass the daytime.
The flash of the wings
that are opened for the flight
The flash of the blue water
that splashes across
The flash in the oil that slips and slides down
the bas-relief on the stone
The stone’s smell
Smell, flowers
Smell, the dust in the dry wind
Smell, grime-saturated clothes
Smell, a rusting away bicycle.
In between
She who stretches her hands towards faces
The one who hangs the bead-necklace from the other hand
Under the grimy sculpture of the tower,
the ones who rejoin the wings of a butterfly torn in the storm
The saree that fell into the Vaigai(1) flutters and frolics
and spreads out white clothes against the wind
Corn-ear
Teak-flowers
The white of the drying up field
The Sangam (2) that flowered on earth
lies white.
Tree
Face
The hands that planted and watered
The fallen granite columns
sleep blackening in sunlight
Paint a mural
The scene of an intimate battle
The arrows painted as flowers
The chained elephant
The perfect white of the tusk
The figure around which sculpted adornments are fixed
The infantry poured out in the picture overflow the confines.
The woman who draws the rangoli
The woman who adds colours
The woman who looks at her destined courtyard
If there is a female-companion on the left, another one to the right too
they painted exactly, bringing up the tally.
One growing eloquent about the toppled flower-basket
Another talking about Shiva’s direction
Under the grimy sculpture of the tower,
the ones who rejoin the wings of a butterfly torn in the storm
The shadow that moves near the sun-blanched banks
White flowers here and there in the mist that spreads
Night seemed to be standing under the lush green foliage
left alone in the middle of the open fields,
to pass the daytime.
Translated from Malayalam by A.J.Thomas.
Notes: 1.Vaigai is the river that flows through the city of
2.’Sangam’is a golden period in Tamil Literature and culture that flowered and flourished at least in three different phases over several millennia, the third and last of which is said to have been between 500 BC and 200 AD, when the works to which we refer as ‘Sangam Literature’ were written. The seat of this Sangam was
Interview
(Poetry bared)
Sir, you often say that a sex worker is to be considered like any other worker?
Yes, I do.
Sir, is there anyone of your relatives working in this trade?
No. As they are all engaged in some other trades, none of them have adopted this as a trade.
Your daughter?
She is doing a course for MCA in
How is she in writing?
I am paying attention to her writing. I select books for her to read (laughs).
You are supposed to be a modernist. And yet, why this spittoon?
I am a complete traditionalist when it comes to wearing a mundu, chewing paan, and using this spittoon to spit into.
Good that it is a steel spittoon. Wouldn’t it have corroded away, had it been an aluminium one?
Even steel will turn black after sometime. There’s nothing to beat bronze.
What about medical aid to sex workers?
They are all to be issued with watch-cards, which a doctor has to certify weekly, after check-up.
But, wouldn’t diseases such as AIDS be contracted with a single contact?
Such people would have to be rehabilitated and kept indoors, ensuring that they do not venture out even once, and ministered to till their death.
The Naxalites too had contributed to society in an equal measure. What about their rehabilitation?
The work done by NGOs in that area is laudable.
How is it that you have a clear stand about every issue, Sir?
I don’t know (laughs).
Okay, Sir.
Thank you.
Two welts
Lips
worn
by the abrasion
of the kiss
Sobbing
and coloured fire-red
by the scalding drops dripping
from the brimming eyes
Between the lips that quivered and parted
teeth shone white
The lamp-cast shadow that fell on its face
has a skewered vision.
Desire is raised upwards
with indrawn cheeks.
The effulgence of the shooting star
that reflected on the quaking drop
and faded, still lingers
This is all that could be captured
before the shadows moved from
the oblong whose sides were
wrought by the lightning flash.
Translated from Malayalam by A.J.Thomas.
Instruments
It would seem
the vadivaal(1)
is filled with remorse
seeing it lying down
after the deed is done
covering its shining blade
with red, oozing misery.
The gun isn’t like that
It lies by the side of the one who committed suicide
like his own baby.
One feels
it would instantly spring up
and look up to its father’s face.
Translated from Malayalam by A.J.Thomas.
Vadivaal: A slim sword that is concealed in a baton or walking stick; the baton or the stick is designed as the scabbard.
Vessels that Break
fell down from my hands and broke
So it came to pass
that there was only the sky
to be lifted up in my two hands
Seeing that many
believed that I was praying, “Allah”.
Translated from Malayalam by A.J.Thomas.
Life
mixed with lemon yellow
and water-melon crimson.
On earth
Vacated mansions
Scattered laughter
The dirty beseeching of the staircases
The porridge of flies.
The church
Grumbling glance
Ash
in the mouth that opened to pray.
Wind
Plants
Fish that dream
about the curry-dish
The backwater said to the sea:
O wanderer
You haven’t yet learned
to live in the resounding
interior monologues…
Translated from Malayalam by A.J.Thomas.
