Sunday, August 16, 2020

To A Special Girl And Her Special Man

On this the special day of your life
This we wish and pray for you
That your love may stand the test of time
And grow each passing day
In success, failure, joy, and sorrow
May it endure all throughout
And as you hold your hands and together walk
The winding roads of destiny
May budding flowers of myriad hues
Dance in the breezes and welcome you.

INDEPENDENCE

I was born free, in a free country, whose poor are still ‘in dependence’.
N o longer slaves of an alien monarch, my parents’ generation gulped down
D emocracy as dessert at their midnight freedom party. A single pill panacea
E nd of all troubles and exploitations. Now let long-cherished dreams fructify
P atriotic ideals, treasured aspirations freely flower into a world of plenty,
E quality and tranquility. Alas! Reality jolts cruelly with unemployment.
N ever-ending riots, lynch mobs, floods, quakes, droughts, starvations, pandemics, and fanatics!
D emocracy’s guardians loot merrily, mercilessly dwarfing foreign plunderers!
E ndemic problems, left-overs of history, new ones created by ruling oligarchs…
N uclear India - a rising world power spawning dollar billionaires and hungry masses.
C itizen Jayachandran of the Sovereign Socialist Secular Democratic Republic of India is upset, unhappy,
E ven enraged! They gave me a stillborn Independence! And my JAI HIND a cry in the wilderness…

Devadarus Withered

You have bid a final adieu to the valley
of the 'Devadaru'* blooms
leaving behind desolate hearts
that long to hear your immortal verses sung!
Have you left to hide in the deep solitude
of the valleys lurking in the shadows of the moon?
Will you return someday to brighten lovelorn hearts
with the magic spell of those lyrical rainbow songs?

Did you immortalize these verses or have their lyrics immortalized you?

Nothing can conquer the poet, neither death nor any calamity!

In the years to come, lovers,
will yet look at the moon and whisper wistfully unto each other
"Once there was a poet who could make these whithered 'Devadarus' bloom
See how they stand like weeping widows in this windless valley now?
Look how they strain to hear the music of his golden lyrics again!"

But for now, they must mourn the passing of their bard.
And we must bleed our hearts that you are no more here with us.

A humble tribute to the famous Malayalam Poet and Lyricist Chunnakra Ramankutty who passed away recently.
https://youtu.be/FyVvag6yLj4 - Link to his famous evergreen Devadaru song.

*Devadaru is an Indian medicinal plant regarded by some as divine. Cedrus deodara (Himalayan cedar).

I’m Sorry Hibakusha

A 'Little Boy' fell from the sky bursting vengeance on your world,
engulfing horrendous crime in a mushroom cloud…

Spewing death, destruction on a scale unknown to the aggressor even…

'Fat Man’s' killer - orgy followed driving home the threat to rain fire from skies
the likes of which the world has never seen.

An empire’s crumbling resistance subdued - collapsed!

Did pride bow before might or foolishness?
The world shall never be the same as that August morn nor safe again.

Death - the destroyer of worlds hovers perpetually in a violent mood.

Aggressor now lives in peace with the vanquished
both buddy-buddies dreading nuclear threats from others.

An apocalypse round the corner every hour or day…

Nuclear terrorism a nightmare giving shivers to governments.
The world shivers too - the price of mankind’s collective sins.

But who’ll heal your burn scars Hibakusha? Who’ll cure those inner wounds?

Who’ll hear your cries on the nights that you re-live the horrors of that August morn when death was merciful to all it kissed?

I’m sorry Hibakusha! I’m sorry!
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Note: Hibakusha is a Japanese term for the 'Explosion Affected'

Published in the anthology Voices Of Humanity(Vol.3)
in 2016 by Ardus Publications - Canada.

ANGRY GODS

Chained at birth, conditioned to believe a particular God,
yoked to dogma, branded by his sign, no questions to be asked
few dare step out, cross the Rubicon of faith,
venture beyond its boundaries guarded by demons of superstition

To explore the ifs and whys of the God construct.

His ways strange, inscrutable, a mystery!
They say God is an unfathomable paradox beyond comprehension.
Those self-styled guardians of faith!
Bodyguards of their God almighty!

Their legions many: Believe, conform, never measure, blindly obey!
Each God has his flag, religion its color, but no life its own.
Every God a prisoner of his religion.

His guards ever vigilant, weapons drawn
at slightest provocation, proclaim his wrath.
Let the others’ blood flow, if their women are raped
kids butchered to protect my faith, no issues.. so be it!

Why so much of violence if all Gods preach only love, sharing?
Are they impotent? Or is it because they are lonely,
bitter in their prison cells?

Come, let’s liberate them once and for all from religions
and set them free within ourselves!

Published in the anthology 'International Who's Who In Poetry 2012 '

The woman with the Mona Lisa smile

The loneliness of an aching heart
burdened by the despair of unshed tears
looks at the world through its grief
with the ghost of a Mona Lisa smile.

But in the shadows of that Mona Lisa smile,
unknown to those around, pain lurks
Throbbing memories of a profound loss
refusing to fade away…

Behind the veil of that Mona Lisa smile
condemned by fate she lives
her vulnerability masked by the mystique
of a God-given smile

Her only shield against a cunning world
hovering perpetually like a hungry vulture,
to scavenge on remnants of shattered dreams
buried long ago in the graveyard of hopes.

THE FISH LONGS TO SWIM IN THE SEA

The fish in the bowl stares
As it goes round and round
Flicks its tail and golden fins
Up it shoots and down it dives
Changing course now and then
Chasing an elusive dream - liberty?
Restless, alone in its restricted world
Is it trying to convey something
Will it start talking, I wonder?
Grow big and ask to be put it in a pond
And then in the river and later in the sea
Will it metamorphose into an Avatar
Rescue and carry me safely to a deserted isle
When the world comes crashing down?
Outside the dawn breaks into a pink streak
The virus continues its death prowl unabated
Clutching all and sundry it can by their throats
We have learnt to mask our fears and despair
Trapped, these lockdown blues taught me
How the fish longs to swim in the sea ...

THIS THEN IS THAT POEM

There has to be a poem
For that poet
Whose heart bleeds with sorrow
For an unknown man
Who dreading he had that COVID thing
Jumped off a hospital building
And met with a tragic fate
Before the test results came in
And declared his status negative.

There has to be a poem
For the poet who wept bitterly
And wrote a beautiful poem
For the girl who died
After she was thrown off a bus
By its conductor
Fearing she had the COVID curse.

There has to be a poem
For this poet with the goodness of soul
To spare a thought for the least of his brethren
Their bereaved families, their loved ones
And weep and write a lovely poem
For all those whose voices are crushed.

There has to be a poem for that poet
Who wrote so boldly
Even as an oblivious nation
Soaked in its venality
Suffering from a virus
Worse than COVID
Glued to its tv sets

For a minute by minute update
About the medical condition
Of a celebrity father-son duo
Who tested positive and are getting
The best of care in a super-specialty hospital
And God willing shall come out unscathed.

This then is that poem for that great Mahakavi...

A great human being
Master of verses
Painter of life
Activist of humanity
Terror of the oppressors

This is that poem for that poet
Who sings for the unsung
Who keeps writing fearlessly
For all the oppressed of this world.

This is that poem for that one of a kind poet
Who writes tirelessly, endlessly
All those powerful poems
For those who are too tired, too weak
To chisel out their tragic tales
On the walls of human arrogance.

O Murari!

Thou hast closed those bright lotus eyes
and shut me out Krishna
Yet the ghost of a peacock feathered smile
haunts thy blue lips still...
The golden flute too has fallen silent
The temple doors that slammed shut
are closed today...

Locked out in this lockdown, a strange darkness engulfs me.

Heartless slayer of demons!
You mock my despair!
How long will you keep me waiting
outside in this rain like a vagabond?
Won't you wake up from this fake slumber
and let me in my Lord?

Are you waiting for my hot tears
to seep beneath the temple doors
to flood your sanctum sanctorum?
Krishna, stop this cruel hide and seek!
Don't hide behind a virus playing Mayavi!

The mind is in tumult and the heart heavy.
In this lockdown, you have wrenched my soul
and plucked a darling sibling from me.
I cursed you for a fleeting moment,
forgetting how you had heard my pleas
not to cause him any suffering.

For years, I have come here for daily darshan
Nowhere else will I find my solace Madhava...
Forgive me for doubting you, albeit briefly
Am neither a Melpattur nor a Poonthanam
to appease thee with refined verses
Won't my tears suffice to grant me darshan?

Keshava, please wake up and allow me
to prostrate once again at thy lotus feet.

Don't let me dissolve in my sorrows.