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Is it your face that I see
As the shutters on my eyes
Heavy with morning slumber
Lazy, groaning open slight
Is it peacock feather I see
Swaying ginger in dawn air
The shiny black curls modest
Virile, tingle and titillate
Is it flute seeking your lips
Ductile move those finger tips
Blowing rhythms in holy splendour
Instilling mirth, dispelling fear
Is it sparkle of stone-etched rings
Or the glint of your aurous bangles
Maybe it is the glimmer of amulet
Lost in servile love, I adulate
Basking in your blue radiance
I remember stories of dalliance
Myths and legends of a divine form
Smirking, luring never forlorn
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Divine, I'm fine
You I made mine
In your love
I wallow, Into me
It seeps infusing
Divine
Energy, grace
In your embrace
Stems the sweet
Smell of success
As my steps
falter in diffidence
Reach out and
you make me steady
You my almighty
Me you console
Me you hold
I am bold
In your love
I wallow, Into me
It seeps infusing
Divine
Energy, grace
In your embrace
Stems the sweet
Smell of success
As my steps
falter in diffidence
Reach out and
you make me steady
You my almighty
Me you console
Me you hold
I am bold
Divine, I whine
When I feel blue
To you I rue
Would it cease
Quell my unease
Of a misdeed
You I unheed
Now to repent
To you I vent
Dearest Lord
My honour
My word
No more I err
In your belief
I survive
This life I have
You my only relief
Absolve me
Of misery
Of greed
Of this breed
Her almighty
Is the truth
Is the peace
She is at ease
To you I rue
Would it cease
Quell my unease
Of a misdeed
You I unheed
Now to repent
To you I vent
Dearest Lord
My honour
My word
No more I err
In your belief
I survive
This life I have
You my only relief
Absolve me
Of misery
Of greed
Of this breed
Her almighty
Is the truth
Is the peace
She is at ease
The polythene post
There was much to say. To formulate words that would fall on ears unseen to the mortal world. Words that would beg for a vocal response. A smile unblurred, a frown well-contoured. How would I ever tell him, the story of my escapades in school? How would I ever know what he thought of his little emboldened girl ogling the finer versions of the male species? How would I ever see the appreciative slant of his eyebrows as I gracefully mingled limbs to conjure the most exquisitive of classical repertoires?
I wondered whether he just knew? Was he omniscient like God himself that he did not need me to tell him? Was he watching when I thought he was not? These were the questions rankling my thought devices.
I gazed at the portrait on the wall. I run hither-thither and the eyes follow me. I hide behind a couch and peer through a gap. He still sees me.
Would he answer me if I asked? Maybe I could write a letter. But I had to post it somewhere and give it an address. I knew the place but did not know the exact address. I decided I would take a chance. I ran to my shelf, produced a notebook and tore off two sheets of lined paper.
Selecting the royal blue ink pen I used in school, I set myself pouring my heart out. That I had finally made it among the top five in the class, that I had scored a 39 out of 40 in Mathematics, that I had been rejected for the elocution contest and was sore about it, that my best friend had started speaking to me again, that I still went to dance class though I had to go by bus instead of taxi (how I hated it), that I still ate a lot of rice and was fat, that mother had started going to office and so when I came back from school she wouldn't be there to feed me, and last and not least I still suckled at my fingers and was scared my teeth would protrude and make me really ugly! I wrote willingly and shamelessly, transforming feelings into words, which smudged as tears and ink mingled.
After it was done, I perused the written carnage cringing as every blatant revelation evoked shame and fear.
But he had to know. Now to post it! I thought of just flinging it out of the window. But then there lurked a possibility of someone reading it. I couldn't let that happen. I returned to my shelf and rummaged through my water colour collection looking for black.
Having found it, I chose the fattest brush possible and set about shabbily painting my letter. The intention was to hide the words, so the letter now looked like a black canvas, a visible blank but behind which lurked the murk of my being.
Selecting an envelope I inserted the letter and deposited it inside a blue polythene bag. Then I attached a piece of string to it and flinged it outside the balcony.
Thankfully the wind was strong and it carried the bag high into the wide blue sky. I squinted at the unfathomable expanse above till just a speck is visible. It was safe. It would reach him that day itself.
So thinking I scooted off from the scene.
To my father,
Subhash Chandran
Heaven, Sky, c/o God.
I wondered whether he just knew? Was he omniscient like God himself that he did not need me to tell him? Was he watching when I thought he was not? These were the questions rankling my thought devices.
I gazed at the portrait on the wall. I run hither-thither and the eyes follow me. I hide behind a couch and peer through a gap. He still sees me.
Would he answer me if I asked? Maybe I could write a letter. But I had to post it somewhere and give it an address. I knew the place but did not know the exact address. I decided I would take a chance. I ran to my shelf, produced a notebook and tore off two sheets of lined paper.
Selecting the royal blue ink pen I used in school, I set myself pouring my heart out. That I had finally made it among the top five in the class, that I had scored a 39 out of 40 in Mathematics, that I had been rejected for the elocution contest and was sore about it, that my best friend had started speaking to me again, that I still went to dance class though I had to go by bus instead of taxi (how I hated it), that I still ate a lot of rice and was fat, that mother had started going to office and so when I came back from school she wouldn't be there to feed me, and last and not least I still suckled at my fingers and was scared my teeth would protrude and make me really ugly! I wrote willingly and shamelessly, transforming feelings into words, which smudged as tears and ink mingled.
After it was done, I perused the written carnage cringing as every blatant revelation evoked shame and fear.
But he had to know. Now to post it! I thought of just flinging it out of the window. But then there lurked a possibility of someone reading it. I couldn't let that happen. I returned to my shelf and rummaged through my water colour collection looking for black.
Having found it, I chose the fattest brush possible and set about shabbily painting my letter. The intention was to hide the words, so the letter now looked like a black canvas, a visible blank but behind which lurked the murk of my being.
Selecting an envelope I inserted the letter and deposited it inside a blue polythene bag. Then I attached a piece of string to it and flinged it outside the balcony.
Thankfully the wind was strong and it carried the bag high into the wide blue sky. I squinted at the unfathomable expanse above till just a speck is visible. It was safe. It would reach him that day itself.
So thinking I scooted off from the scene.
To my father,
Subhash Chandran
Heaven, Sky, c/o God.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The final view
A tight knot formed in my stomach as I tried to grapple with the reality. I would be really leaving my home. The only home I ever knew and had. Though simple and austere, this was where I had found warmth, comfort and when I concentrated, there even in the remotest corner I could see lurking the smiling, compassionate image that beamed down upon me. An image that fails to wipe itself off my memory. An image that even after 17 years of separation still lingers vividly in my mind. An image that I crave to stifle with my hug, smother with my kisses, pin down to the earth and crush with the weight of my being.
How could this be happening to me, I wondered as my eyes smarted, hot tears welling up at will. Was it not enough that I had to contend with an irreplaceable absence from my life? Now I had to leave the only abode where I still felt the presence, where every nook and corner conjured up images of another life of a past nestled in comfort, snug in love, embedded in security.
Peering out of the window, I espied the lone verdant relief on the road. The final view.
I hopped on to the bed, resting my head on his pillow. Picking up a magazine I began to skim through in his style. I was he. I breathed hard, gulping in the still air. Was it imagination or did a familiar perfurme wafting through the mournful air tingle my nose?
I looked around. I decided, I became strong. Take me out of my home, but could you take my home out of me? Victory grinned at me as I simpered back. I would carry him with me to my new dwelling. I would place him there, hold him there, bore him with my poor jokes, fret him with my silly worries, inundate him with my myriad queries and lie to him when in the wrong. That's what I would do and suddenly my world became bright. My happy past would water my uncertain future. I would love him till death. My father, who left me to occupy God's acre when I was 11.
But I never lost him. He still lives with me!
How could this be happening to me, I wondered as my eyes smarted, hot tears welling up at will. Was it not enough that I had to contend with an irreplaceable absence from my life? Now I had to leave the only abode where I still felt the presence, where every nook and corner conjured up images of another life of a past nestled in comfort, snug in love, embedded in security.
Peering out of the window, I espied the lone verdant relief on the road. The final view.
I hopped on to the bed, resting my head on his pillow. Picking up a magazine I began to skim through in his style. I was he. I breathed hard, gulping in the still air. Was it imagination or did a familiar perfurme wafting through the mournful air tingle my nose?
I looked around. I decided, I became strong. Take me out of my home, but could you take my home out of me? Victory grinned at me as I simpered back. I would carry him with me to my new dwelling. I would place him there, hold him there, bore him with my poor jokes, fret him with my silly worries, inundate him with my myriad queries and lie to him when in the wrong. That's what I would do and suddenly my world became bright. My happy past would water my uncertain future. I would love him till death. My father, who left me to occupy God's acre when I was 11.
But I never lost him. He still lives with me!
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