ATTUKAL PONGALA

Tomorrow, yet another mass hysteria
in my home town, induced by saffron
clad fanatics, a million women take the
streets and burn mud pots filled with
nivedyams of sharkara payasam; amidst the
cacophony of conch shells and nadaswarams,
the holy fire is passed on from the sanctum
sanctorum of the temple, down the roads to
kilometres and kilometres of dazed women,
waiting with misplaced devotion in scorching
sun, a drama reminiscent of some pre-historic
tribal ritual, while this mother of all pongalas
helps sow divisive seeds of fundamentalism in
the fragile minds of a secular nation’s citizens!
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21/02/08                                      R Jayachandran

DID YOU HEAR THE TIGRIS WEEP?
              
                   Part I

Today, Tigris wept
Silently for her proud son
Defiant in the face of death
He stood with bound hands
Before his captors, like Porus
Before Alexander the great.

But, the ‘Born Again’ upstart
In the White House
Is not magnanimous like Alexander
He did not win any wars
Marching in front of his armies
Like the great king.

Hiding behind the tears of
American widows and orphans
And missiles and deadly bombs
His wars are won by the blood
Of dead women and children
And the sick and the defenseless.

They matter little, Asian lives!
Poor, poor, collateral damages!!
In shock and awe stood Christ
As Tigris wept a silent rage, for
Saddam, brave heart,
Victim of the Anti-Christ, Bush.


                Part II

When Victor’s vengeance
Sans justice condemned him
To the gallows, in a trail………
Held in Iraq with a
Made in the USA verdict
Three dead defense lawyers
And two presiding Judges removed
For playing fair and square……….

He stood with head held high
Looking very presidential
Saddam, it was then that you were
Truly President, not just of Iraq
But of the whole of the third world
And all the subjugated peoples of the world
Brave death has made you immortal
And your enemies inglorious!!!

As they tightened the noose around you
Oh, Mesopotamian, did you hear the
Desolate wail of a woman coming from afar
Across several centuries, for all the dead of
Iraq and Palestine, Vietnam, Hiroshima
And Nagasaki…………………………………..,
The list is long and never ending, all
Victims of an evil empire’s blood and oil lust!!

She knows that some day soon, her son must return
To pay for the sins of all the pseudo Christians
Who swear by him while they kill
She knows that he must again be crucified
To save them from their sins
Oh, Saddam did you hear a mother’s
Cry coming down from the Golgotha?
President, did you hear the Tigris weep?
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                                                                     R Jayachandran

"Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future"
Oscar Wilde
Saints have no future. Better be a sinner!

FIRE

The kiss that you gave years ago
still lingers as a surreal dream.
You ask me now, what's so special
about that kiss; which you'd long
forgotten. Chapter in life – discarded
as you moved on, I know ! But
fragrant memories of our first kiss
returns to haunt me oft. Even in
dreams, the freshness of yielding
lips stoke hot passion's fire that
remembers the hardening of your
nipples under my touch. Only it's not
lust any more, for embers of love now
compete with passion's fire in the heart.

R Jayachandran 25/03/2011

FANTASY

Suddenly a fragrance came
wafting across distances as
though no barriers exist between us.

I long for your presence
knowing the futility of
yearnings, yet wanting to crush

a weary face on your sweet bosom
and circle arms around the waist line
that perpetually distracts.

I long for all this and much
more and it is not just to plant
hot kisses on soft yielding lips!

Tonight, I'll toss sleepless the whole
night through longing to glimpse that
voluptuous cleavage at least in dreams!

24/09/2011 R Jayachandran

RAPE VICTIM

Your stately structure, sculpted by that
Master Craftsman's skillful art........

Was it set upon the earth in all its
seductive glory, to tantalize, titillate,
men's sensual instincts beyond fantasy's
boundless limits? Or was it ordained that
your undiluted female charm be deployed
to haunt me alone, even in dreams?

For yesterday, I pressed my dry lips
on your blue veins again in my dreams!

Yesterday, I savoured the bitter- sweet
flavour of those intoxicating lips …....
yesterday I inhaled the sensual fumes
of your voluptuous bosom...............
yesterday I felt the silky comfort of
your female tresses as you lay on my chest
yesterday my hasty hands enjoyed the
smooth curvature of those womanly hips
yesterday your lotus- smooth thighs yielded
to the wild thrusts of my throbbing desire.

Yesterday when my ecstasy finally pinned
down yours, your legs entwined me like
a clinging creeper for a moment that held
like eternity; then you let go slowly and
I heard you sigh contently as you rolled
over to receive one last kiss on the nape
of your slender neck.

If you come to me today with a prudish
mind set in that crisp cotton sari., I'll
RAPE YOU!!!!!!!!!
But tell me frankly, who's the victim?
You or me?
R Jayachandran

TO YOU MY LOVE

Taunt me not, just intoxicate me
with dew drops from honeyed lips,
allow me to bury this lover's face
in delicate fragrance of silky tresses,
lightly squeeze those haughty breasts,
feel contours of your sculpted frame,
plumb depths of an ever familiar ocean,
wake ecstasy from it's deepest slumber,
let manhood run amok, then burst into
your womanhood like an angry volcano
just once more my love ! I can lie dormant
afterwards for ages, to rise again when
we are reborn in another age. It's not
lust my love, but an yearning for the
perfumed memory of a love we shared
aeons ago. Don't you remember my love?
Love was not a four letter word those
carefree days under the evening shadows
of 'Howwa' beach.

17/09/10 R Jayachandran