ചിക്കാഗോ പ്രസംഗം

വിശുദ്ധ പശുവിനെ  കറന്നിട്ടുള്ളവരില്‍
വിവേകാന്ദനെ പോലെ മറ്റൊരാളില്ല.
വലിയ പ്രാസംഗികനായിരുന്നു അദ്യേം
എങ്കിലും ഇന്നു വായിച്ചു നോക്കുമ്പോള്‍
“ശവം തീനീകളേ” എന്നു സായ്വന്മാരെ
വിളിച്ചതാണ് മാര്‍ക്കിടാനിരുന്ന  ജഡ്ജിയദ്ദേഹത്തിനു
“ക്ഷ” പിടിച്ചതെന്ന കാര്യത്തില്‍ സംശയത്തിനു
വകയില്ല.
(ബാക്കിയുള്ളതൊക്കെ ഒരു വകയാണ്!)

കേരളയില്‍ അദ്യേം കണ്ട ഭ്രാന്താലയത്തിനു സമം
മറ്റൊന്ന് അക്കാലത്തോ ഇക്കാലത്തോ
വേറെങ്ങും കാണാനും ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നിട്ടില്ല്യ
(വടക്കേയിന്ത്യയിലെങ്ങും ഇമ്മാതിരി ഭ്രാന്ത്
കണ്ടിട്ടേയില്ലാത്രേ!).

നാട്ടിലെ ശവംതീനീകളെക്കുറിച്ചു
വലിയ മതിപ്പുള്ളയാളുമായിരുന്നു കേട്ടോ,
നവോത്ഥാനത്തിനു പുള്ളിയാണ്
മോട്ടോറു പിടിപ്പിച്ചതെന്നും
ചിലരെല്ലാം പറഞ്ഞു കേള്‍ക്കുന്നുണ്ട്.
എട്ടുകാലി മമ്മൂഞ്ഞ്
ഒരു ബഷീര്‍ കഥാപാത്രമല്ല!  

THE 'COMING OUT' OF THE PATIDAR

And so the Patidar
Came out
From behind his veil
And the caste body
Of nationalist politics
Stood revealed
Since he could
No more trust 'others'
To carry his shit.

We don't ask you to carry our shit
But do try carrying your own
For some more time
Before you ask for reservations
It is good training
And would do you good.

And we used to wonder
About  their so called liberalism
When they were shouting and hollering
About the veil.
And now we know
That it was their own!

Ambedkar's wheel had turned
And no fire and storm
Could stop the Patidar
On his way out!

ത്രിശങ്കു

“കേട്ടതൊക്കെ നുണയാണണ്ണാ”
ത്രിശങ്കു പറഞ്ഞു
രാജര്‍ഷിയെന്നെ സ്വര്‍ഗ്ഗത്തിലെത്തിക്കാം
എന്നുറപ്പു തന്നതും
പി. എസ്. എല്‍. വിയില്‍
ഞാനങ്ങോട്ടു പോയതുമൊക്കെ
നേര്  തന്നെ.
ഒരു ദിവസം ഞാനവിടെ കഴിഞ്ഞ
കാര്യം മാത്രം
ആരും പറയാറില്ല.
ഉള്ളതു പറഞ്ഞാല്‍
തൈര്‍ സാദവും പൊങ്കലും കഴിച്ചു മടുത്തിട്ട്
ഞാനിറങ്ങിപ്പോന്നതൊന്നും ചാനലുകളിൽ  വന്നില്ല.

അവിടെ അഗ്രഹാരങ്ങള്‍ പണിത്
കോലം വരയ്ക്കാനോരു പെണ്ണിനെയും  ഏര്‍പ്പാടാക്കി
ന്യൂ ജേഴ്സിയിലേക്കും കാലിഫോര്‍ണ്ണിയയിലേക്കും
(കാലികളുള്ളിടത്തേ ഞങ്ങള്‍ പോകൂ.)
പോയ പ്രധാനപ്പെട്ട അയ്യങ്കാര്‍വാള്‍
പണിതിട്ടിരുന്ന ഹോം സ്റ്റേകളിൽ ഒന്നില്‍
ജാംനഗറുകാരനൊരു ഭട്ടാണെന്നും
ശാകാഹാരിയാണെന്നും പറഞ്ഞാണ്
ഞാന്‍ മുറിയെടുത്തതും.

നമ്മളല്പം കഴിക്കുന്ന കൂട്ടത്തിലാണെന്ന കാര്യം
ഓര്മ്മയുണ്ടല്ലോ?
ടച്ചിങ്സിന്  അല്പം പശുവിറച്ചി വേണമെന്നതും.
ഇതൊന്നുമില്ലാത്ത ഒരു സ്ഥലത്തെ
പരസിയ കമ്പനിക്കാരന്‍
എങ്ങിനെ  പേരിട്ടു വിളിച്ചാലെന്ത്
ഒരു മാതിരിയാളുകളൊന്നും
അവിടെയെങ്ങും നില്ക്കില്ല.

അല്ലെങ്കിലും എന്റെ പേരില്‍
സ്വന്തമായി ഞാനോരു സ്ഥാപനം
നടത്തുന്നുണ്ടെന്ന് നീങ്ങളൊക്കെ
അറിയട്ടെ എന്നു കരുതി
ഒരു കഥയുണ്ടാക്കി
വാട്സാപ്പില്‍ പോസ്ടിയെന്നേയുള്ളൂ.

തലതിരിഞ്ഞവന്‍മാര്‍ക്കും വേണമല്ലോ
ഒരു പറുദീസ.
(കൂടുതല്‍ വിവരങ്ങള്‍ക്ക്
ത്രിശങ്കു സ്വര്‍ഗ്ഗം.ഓര്‍ഗ് എന്ന
ഞങ്ങളുടെ വെബ്സൈറ്റ് സന്ദര്‍ശിക്കുക!.)

“നമ്മളും” നാടോടികളും

ബിനോയ്.പി.ജെ


എങ്ങുമേ നാടോടികള്‍ കാണുന്ന മട്ടില്‍ നമ്മള്‍
സൂര്യനെ കണ്ടിട്ടില്ലാ,
വെയില്‍ക്കുത്തേറ്റിട്ടില്ലാ.
വിയര്‍പ്പിലൊലിച്ചുപോം സൌവര്‍ണ്ണമാലിന്യങ്ങള്‍
പച്ചയായ്ത്തീര്‍ക്കും മട്ടില്‍ ഉടലില്‍ വസിച്ചില്ലാ.
നമ്മിലെ ‘നാടോടികള്‍’, നമുക്കു പരിചിതര്‍
സുമുഖര്‍, സുചരിതര്‍, ‘കളങ്ക’മേശാതുള്ളോര്‍,
ഏതു ദിക്കിലും പോവാന്‍
യാത്രാരേഖകള്‍ കൈയിലുള്ളോര്‍.
ബസ്സില്‍ നിന്നാരും നമ്മേയിറക്കിത്തല്ലുന്നില്ലാ
നാട്ടുകാരോടിക്കൂടി കൈത്തിളപ്പാറ്റുന്നില്ലാ
എങ്കിലും നാടോടിയായ് ‘ത്തിളങ്ങാന്‍’
നമുക്കില്ലാ മടി, കൂട്ടത്തിലതും കൂടി പോരട്ടേ
പേരായ്, പെരുമയ്ക്കുള്ള വഴിയതായ്ത്തീര്‍ന്നെങ്കിലോ?

“ഗ്രാമ്യമാം മോഹത്തെ നീയൊട്ടുമേയറിഞ്ഞീലാ
നിന്നിലെ  മൃഗത്തെ നീയെങ്ങുമേ സന്ധിച്ചില്ലാ
യന്ത്രമായ്ത്തീരാന്‍ വെമ്പും മുഷ്യാ, നീയെന്തിന്‍െ
പേരിനെയെടുത്തും കൊണ്ടെളുപ്പം മണ്ടീടുന്നൂ?
നിൻ മുതല്‍ നിന്റേതെന്നു തീര്‍ച്ചയായുറപ്പിച്ചാല്‍
നിന്റെ നാടെന്റേതല്ലെ-
ന്നുറക്കെപ്പറഞ്ഞെന്നാല്‍
എന്റെ നാടെവിടെന്റെ നാട്ടിലെ സാറന്മാരേ?
പനിച്ചുവിറച്ചാലും പോകുവാനിടമില്ലാ
തുള്ളവര്‍ ഞങ്ങള്‍ക്കുള്ള മുതലും കാണ്‍മാനില്ലാ.
കള്ളന്മാ,രാരാണവ തട്ടിയെടുത്തവര്‍?
കള്ളന്മാരെന്നു വിളിച്ചെങ്ങളേയോടിക്കുന്നോര്‍?”

ഇത്രയും പറഞ്ഞവര്‍ തിരികെ നടക്കുമ്പോള്‍
തിരികെയെത്തുന്നൂ നമ്മള്‍ നമ്മിലെ യാഥാര്‍ത്ഥ്യത്തില്‍!

TO THE CLERIC

I went to the cleric
And asked for a cigar
He said he didn't have one
And was very courteuos
And told me where to get it.

"But sir,"
I would have liked to ask
"I don't have the money,
And thought that I could get it here."

SMOKING

I TRIED GANJA
But it rarely clicked
I tried cigarettes
neither did they
AND SO I SMOKED A SALMON
AND ATE A MUSHROOM FOR TASTE.

DEATH OF THE AUTHOR

Recently i went to see
The death of the author
I saw him sitting 
In the midst of a bookstack
On every book 
I found his name printed
And i came out and never went back,
For I have seen better ruses
Though I am nothing
But a seed for the desert soil.

അഹങ്കാരം

അഹങ്കാരം

അടുത്തിടെ ഞാൻ അഹങ്കാരത്തെ കാണാൻ പോയി
അവിടെ അഹം കാരത്തോടൊപ്പം 
ഇരിക്കുന്നത് കണ്ടു.
ഇതിലേതു നീയെടുക്കും
എന്ന് കാരം എന്നോട് ചോദിച്ചു
രണ്ടും വേണ്ട എന്നല്ലേ എനിക്ക് പറയാനാവൂ
എന്റെ പേര് മറ്റൊന്നല്ലേ.

MISSING

HE HAD A NAME THIS SIDE,
 AS 'PRIOR TO SOMEONE'
AND SUPERIOR TO ALL OTHERS,
WHO WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE WON SOME DEBATE WITH THE BUDDHISTS
THOUGH NO ONE REALLY KNOWS
WHAT THIS DISCOURSE WAS ABOUT 
OR AS TO HOW HE HAD WON 
OVER A WIDE SPREAD COMMUNITY 
IN AN AGE
WHEN COMMUNICATION AND TRAVEL WERE SLOW
THE DOCUMENTS AND TEXTS OF A THRIVING CIVILIZATION 
WHICH WERE NO MORE TO BE FOUND IN THIS LAND
WHERE IT WAS BORN
AND OF WHICH WE KNOW
A LOT WERE BURNED AND DESTROYED BY GUNADDHIA AND HIS KLAN.
MUST HAVE GONE INTO HIDING FOR SOME TIME NOW
BUT THE FISH THREW HIM OUT OF THE OCEAN
AND THE WAVES COULD NO MORE FIND HIM.
BECAUSE HE TRIED PUSHING HIS FIST
IN EVERY BUDDHAS MOUTH, WHICHEVER WAY HE WENT!

SHIT TALK

I DO KNOW THE SPELLING OF ARROGANCE.
Where is it in the dictionary?
Is it near fragrance?
But I have heard ragtime
And I know a fag
And I have some time to waste
And so I am wasting it, do you so mind?
Neither arrows nor guns
I don't know any
And have no family tree
And am born to anyone and to every one
SO IS IT BAD, THAT I CALL OUT TO GOD?
But I know where I come from
And I respect it
So it doesn’t matter that I shat in the open
Do they laugh at me for having done so?
For I know that there is not an inch on earth
That has not been shat on
And everywhere a bone would come up
Which I use it to beat the milk out of the palm
Can I drink toddy, and can I mix it?
Ok , they saved us, so god save them!
Invest in hearts and not in money, for I am the queen of hearts!
Invest in love, and if you ever feel like killing
Kill your hatred because even it deserves a honourable death.
Why are there armies and why are there guns
Why do we sell them, and why do we buy?
Take the idols to the nearest museum
And let it rest there
Because we could see it there
And remember the terror, and the error.
Because I carry my shit in my stomach
And don’t ask somebody
To carry it for me.
And the hand with a chisel
And Maya
Who was there and not there
Why did they burn the forest
To kill a rat
Because so it was known that the rat would burrow the world around
And find out a way.
Thanks be to God, and thanks be to you
Since you are also there
To build up this world!
Because the rat knew Ganesh
And his surgeon, the house painter
With what stuff does he pick his tooth?

CHAIRMAN TAO SPEAKS!

CHAIRMAN TAO SPEAKS!

So I became the Chairman
And the chair was all gone
So that I could become man again
And women, and in- between!
So the bus that came
After the last bus (Siren!!!!!)
Took all on board!

ചില അവതാരങ്ങൾ

കാലടിയിലെ സൂര്യന്‍
അസ്തമിച്ചില്ലേ 
അതൊരു സൂര്യനായിരുന്നുവോ
അതോ ചന്ദ്രനോ 
അതോ വലിയൊരു പൂജ്യമോ?
മാബലി നാട്ടില്‍ വന്നൊരു വാമനന്‍
തുല്യത പഠിപ്പിച്ചത്രേ!

WRITER'S BLOCK

WRITER'S BLOCK

HOW WONDERFUL IS THE WRITER'S BLOCK
WHERE THEY SLICE MUTTON
AND EAT A PAPAYA OR TWO.
I DIP MY BRUSH
IN THE BUCKET
AND SETS OUT TO WRITE A LINE
AND I SEE THAT IT IS ALL WATER
AND WHAT CAN I WRITE?

THE MUSIC- UNCHAINED

Oh, they would say
He doesn't know music
A raga when it is played out,
And  talks about music
And he only 'believes'!
But he still insists because he knows that
God's music is in every one
And he doesn't take the structure that somebody put there
To be God's stricture
And nobody has exclusive rights to that!

Oh, he had listened to ragtime and jazz
And he knew Adorno's strictures
And Hobsbowm's attitude to Jazz
And Brecht's making Armstrong sing
And had a debate with Miles Davis's round sound
Without an attitude in it.

There is music in Hendrix's belching
At his death
Buddy Guy would have called him a buddy
Because he listen's
Even if they say that he doesn't 'know'.
He said there were miles to go before he wakes
And Miles to come, with a broader smile!
He couldn't introduce you to Flamenco
But a Flamingo did reach out to him.
He had stolen a little music from every one
Because he didn't know the cooking
And still wanted to end up with a ketchup
In the end.
Then one day the Universe opened its music
To him
And from a drip and from a drop
Came a new day
That had unchained its swing
And he no more wanted to recognize
Because God's music is everywhere
And it doesn't fear
Crossing the ocean
Or walking on the waves.
And the song that left Kuttappan's lips
Had climbed and looked for a new shore
From this hill to that
And had looked to where the sirens
Were singing for who was coming.
He met a voice he couldn't recognize
And said Salaam, and became a friend.
And he asked himself with Dylan
"How many ears must one person have
Before he can hear people cry?"
The sad voice of Begum Akhtar
Sang to happy ears and said listen
There is such a thing like sadness
In this world
And Runa Laila
Had a mast calendar for the year
So he knew that the fisher-folk
Had heard water,wind and the sand
And had listened to the Fish and the Fisk
And they went to him
Because the time had come-
Are we adequate music, or less?
I don't see any difference
Except where it is chained!
Doesn't the bird chirp for you
And the kettle boil
Doesn't the pot sweat for you
Doesn't the plastic burn
Doesn't the cloud sing its hymn
And a chant reaches you from nowhere.
I met Debussy and he was busy
So I went down the lane
And met with John Lane
On the street
We shook hands
Because we were still shaking
And then the Lord came in-between
And sent for Ford
Is he in Ox-Ford
And am I but an Ox?

Sun Ra sat at the piano and played
You have to face the music
So the lizard had crawled down
And listened to the floor
And the dust had whirled up
And a movement was made,
For Paradise had come
And officers found rhythm
And a band had played in a school ground
For all to hear!
And in Rasputin
Boney M seeking a preacher and a teacher
Who had drunk the poison of life
And was still sane.
So you are a church girl
And you are a cheer girl
And you still be together
And be with ox!

There was a movement in Susie
when she listened to the chorus and became a 'Thumbi'
And when it was lost
She didn't know what to invoke
And a voice came through the wind to Basheer's ears
And Robeson was there and Bessie was there
With a Sufi soul
And Safiya took me to the beach and sang for me
"Let human beings love each other
And make a church in their hearts
And allow all castes to enter it"
And I bowed
For I knew that there was music in her
And  what a wonderfull world
By Louis who was no doubt' Arm-strong'
And lung strong played out
And so was it in the telegraph operators
And the Rickshaw pullers
Since a voice asked them
"Kaun desh hai jana"
And the Earth song came by
And the trees whistled or him.
From the Baul to Dibango
From the ringing of the conductor's bell
And a Siberian cranes graceful flight
From  'Manasinte kithabile' to 'Naya paisayillaa'
He didn't set for himself a pyramid of  musical caste
From the apex of which everything else
Seemed far off and immaterial.
They wouldn't let a Gift be
Because openness had polluted him
But he took him along.
A  Gond's song reverberates in his heart
And he could see Rajkumar innovating his verse
While he sang.
Binu was there with him with his flute
That searched out
And the other flute that came from Bastar
Could play itself without him blowing
The whining of the dogs had comedown
And the bell rang
With a music from the street
And the windmill circulated a tune
Through the alleyways
Where Tracy Chapman
was 'Talkin' Bout a Revolution'
And A coconut woman was calling out
Najmal opened a window
And a Gypsy feet kept dancing to the tune of Violin.

At David Hall where the nations sang their songs
To Rafael Lozano-Hemmer
We listened
And knew that there was more to nations
Than national songs allowed
Than nationalism and xenophobia
And that you can't go to music
Always through structures and strictures
Since West is not the world
Neither is it in the East
Neither in the North-
In the South maybe!
For they had a song for Rabana
And Sahodaran's song
Had placed Maabali in every heart
Alongside an equality
which still had an e- quality and a New-gen swing
And would listen to the International
And Brecht singing Mackie the knife
And Victor Jara singing
'Te Recuerdo Amanda'
Which then blended
With Kochukunju Upadeshi's song
And a brown girl
Danced with Dhanush in the street
To a tune of Anirudh or Harris Jayaraj
Danced to a gypsy Django
And the moody blue note
Of Ornette Coleman had just passed by
And Fateh Ali Khan sang Allah Hoo Allah hoo
Because the song of power was muted
And John Cage had broken a few cages for me
And the movements of the people
Asked themselves where they were going
Since the four doors are open
And anybody could enter
And the wind circulates in Appachan's abode!

വറുക്കലും പൊരിക്കലും

കണക്കപ്പിള്ളയ്ക്കെന്താ വറുത്താലും പൊരിച്ചാലും-
കണക്കു നോക്കുന്നോര്‍ക്കു മാത്രം ഇതൊക്കെ മതിയെന്നുണ്ടോ?

GOD'S MEN

When we become 'goodmen'
The Godmen earn profits
And Prophets are derided
And the poor are thrown
Into the ditch.
That is why
I would like to say
Every one of us
Are God's men, women, bisexuals, gays,
Lesbians, transsexuals, transvestists or whatever.
And if you know them
closely enough
You can see that all that this goodness
tries to do is to push a banana into god's mouth,
and in the mouths of the downtrodden.
There are no heroes and villians
In this world
Everybody is so so
But you find them galore
In the literature
Of the binary pundits,
and in the movies
where they find it every where.
And I say it,
Myself, a Godman!

ഇംഗ്ളീഷ് പേഷ്യന്റ്

അടുത്തകാലത്ത് ഒബാമയുടേയും ബ്രിട്ടീഷ് രാജ്ഞിയുടേയും
ശൌചാലയദൃശ്യങ്ങള്‍ ഫോട്ടോഷോപ്പിലൂടെ
ലോകം കണ്ടതോടെ വിക്ടോറിയാ രാജ്ഞി സ്വന്തം
ശവകുടീരത്തിലെഴുന്നേറ്റിരുന്നു കയ്യടിച്ചു ചിരിച്ചു.
അക്കാലത്തെ ഫോട്ടോഷോപ്പ് എന്നെക്കുറിച്ചു പ്രചരിപ്പിച്ച നുണകള്‍ മൂലം
ഇക്കാലത്തെനിക്ക്  കേള്‍ക്കേണ്ടി വന്ന പഴിയെക്കുറിച്ചാലോചിക്കുമ്പോള്‍
ഈ തിരുത്ത് മനോഹരമായിരിക്കുന്നു!
എനിക്കൊരു  അഭ്യര്‍ത്ഥന  കൂടിയുണ്ട്:
വരുന്ന തെരഞ്ഞെടുപ്പില്‍
എന്നെ പ്രതി ലൈംഗിക നഷ്ടമുഭവിക്കേണ്ടി വന്ന
ഇംഗ്ളീഷ് പേഷ്യന്റ്സിനു  വേണ്ടി ചില സീറ്റുകള്‍
 നീക്കി വെക്കുകയും
വേണ്ട ദുരിതാശ്യാസ സംവിധാനങ്ങള്‍
ഏര്‍പ്പെടുത്തുകയും ചെയ്യുന്ന കാര്യം പരിഗണിക്കേണ്ടതാണ്.

തച്ചന്റെ മകനും മയനും

 

മയനെ  വാസ്തു പഠിപ്പിക്കാന്‍ വന്ന
തമ്പുരാന്‍ പറഞ്ഞു:
പുതിയകാലത്തിന്റെ കല
ദാ, ഇതു പോലെയാണ്-
ചില മാതൃകാ ദമ്പതികളെ ചൂണ്ടിക്കാട്ടുകയും ചെയ്തു.
പിന്നെ ആ തച്ചന്റെ മകനുമായുള്ള നിന്റെയാ കൂട്ടുകെട്ട്
ഒട്ടും ശരിയല്ല കേട്ടോ
എന്നുപദേശിക്കുകയും ചെയതു.
അതൊക്കെ ലാറ്റക്സിന്റെ  ഓരോ ഉറകളല്ലേ?

ഒരു ശില്പത്തിനിടയില്‍ നിന്ന്
വലിയ ആലോചനയൊന്നും കൂടാതെ
മയന്‍ പറഞ്ഞു:
ഉറകളൊക്കെ ഞാനുപയോഗിക്കാറുണ്ട്
വിത മാത്രമല്ല, കൊയ്ത്തും ഞങ്ങളുടെ പണിയാണല്ലോ
അതു കൊണ്ട്
ചില ഉറകളൊക്കെ വേണം
വാളൊക്കെ ഇടയ്ക്കൊന്ന് ഉറയിലിടുകയും വേണ്ടേ?
പിന്നെയെന്താ, ഞാനീ  മറാഠാ നാടകമൊന്നും കണ്ടിട്ടുള്ളവനല്ല
അമ്പലങ്ങള്‍ അലങ്കരിച്ചു നടന്നിട്ടുമില്ല.
പിന്നെങ്ങിനെ  ഞാന്‍ അതുപോലെ പടച്ചു വെക്കും?
ആ നിലവറയുടെ താക്കോലൊന്നു താ,
ഞാനതെല്ലാമൊന്നു നോക്കി പഠിക്കട്ടെ
തെറ്റൊക്കെ പഠിച്ചാലല്ലേ
ശരിയും തെറ്റും തിരിച്ചറിയാന്‍ പറ്റൂ?
ഇരിക്കണമെന്നു പറയാനാണെങ്കില്‍
ആസനത്തിന്  ഇവിടെ സിംഹങ്ങളെ വളര്‍ത്തുന്നുമില്ല.
പിന്നെ, തച്ചന്റെ മകനുമായുള്ള എന്റെ ബന്ധം:
ഞങ്ങള്‍ തച്ചന്മാര്‍ അതേക്കുറിച്ചൊക്കെ ഒന്നാലോചിക്കട്ടെ!.

അടുത്ത വീട്ടിലെ മച്ചിൽ നിന്നും
 തച്ചന്റെ മുട്ടുയർന്നു
ഏതുവീട്ടിലും അവന്റെ പണി
നടക്കുമെന്നുറപ്പായി
ചില വായകളിലൊക്കെ അല്പം
മലം രുചിച്ചതൊഴിച്ചാൽ
വേറെ വലിയ ദുരന്തമൊന്നും
സംഭവിച്ചതുമില്ല.

Jah love: Shibu Natesan And the Spirit(s) of Bob Marley.

                  Benoy.P.J

In Shibu Natesan’s painting of Bob Marley, “Jah Love” (Oil on canvas, 2005) Marley appears to be seated on a chair which seem to be close to the wall, in between four women church singers draped  in four  different colours, each  attired in matching clothes, shoes and gloves of a particular colour. 

Shibu Natesan, Self portrait

On the back wall, there are the framed portraits of Haile Selasie –I  towards the right of the Marley image and of Marcus Garvey on the left  reminding one of the stage in Santa Barbara, in 1979. Though Marley is positioned as seated on the chair, it is obvious both by his size and the placement of his legs somewhat to the middle of the floor in the  painting, that  the figure of Marley exists as placed in a somewhat illusionistic  and ambiguous space. The Reggae singer faces towards us in an almost iconic arrangement, larger than and somewhat to the front of the two women in the back, one clad in yellow and the other in green. If the painting were to follow a strict ‘photo realism’ the image of Bob would have been placed in the background and all the four women would be in front of him, since he is seated on a chair placed behind them, and his body would have looked somewhat smaller, compared to that of the women in the back. But to Shibu, who is subtly aware of the flow of Marley’s  geopolitics,  in an iconic representation of Marley he could not be represented in this manner. Because Marley himself was and is an active force in music, in emancipatory geo-politics, and religion, he could not be represented as being seated on a chair in the background. It was not the fixity ascribed to his identity, but the movement between spaces and towards an egalitarian beyond in the people everywhere, that had characterized this singer’s oeuvre. To Shibu, the question then was how to represent him as an active force and agent provocateur  so that in touching him an active line of force could be evoked (a move similar to the one evoked in Ram Kinkar Baij’s images of the Santhals, where the Santhals are no more objects of pity but active forces in movement.).  Hence comes this positioning as if on a chair in the background, which doesn’t seat him squarely on the chair but evokes him as something of a spirit (that too not a spirit tied down) that hovers  in a space above and beyond the chair, half seated (crossed hands – also invoking a cross of another kind)and half dancing. A cross between the white man and the black woman(parentage)  and between different musical genres, placed on a cross that has the four women as its edges, above which Marley hovers,  and itself is connected to another cross- this time formed between the legacies of Haile Selasie-I(1892-1975)

Haile Selasie .

 the  Ethiopian king,  spiritual and political leader, the force behind a positive vibration- Rastaman vibration- and Marcus Garvey(1887- 1940)

(In a photograph taken by James Van Der Zee), orator and proponent of black nationalism, Pan- Africanism, and a person who had inspired Nation of Islam and Rastafarianism, and the two women in the back ground, one dressed in yellow attire (which could be auto- referential to Shibu –the yellow of the Sree Narayana tribe(?)) and one in green(Islam?). Red, green and yellow are the colours of the Ethiopian flag. While the women in the foreground have books in their hands( a Black Bible, a Red Book) the woman clad in yellow, even while keeping her hand in a similar position may be seen as touching Haile Selasie’s image with hers, and the woman in green appears to be either reading from a smaller book (the green book- a force behind much of the anti-colonial and nationalistic upsurges in Africa and the Arab world(?)) , from Garvey or from a beyond. In spite of the differences in the covers they may all be reading the same book –the Old Testament, which was the sacred text for Rastafarians also. The work is a contemporary take on the “Adoration of the Lamb” (1432) by the Van Eyk brothers in the Ghent  altarpiece.’ 

Detail of The Adoration of the Lamb from The Ghent Altarpiece


The Adoration of the lamb’ is a work that was based on the ‘Revelation of John’ which may be considered as a futuristic  part of the Holy Bible where a future event is predicted, namely, the second coming of Christ. The arrangement in Van Eyk brother’s painting has been described in these words:  

 

“Central panel of the most famous work of art by the Van Eyck brothers.

On the foreground to the left, a procession of figures from the Old Testament. Prophets are holding books and some patriarchs are carrying attributes of Jewish feasts. Apostles kneel to the right. Behind them, the Church authorities. Between the groups, a fountain - symbol of eternal life.

Angels adore the lamb. Four of them carry symbols from the Passion: the cross, the spear used to pierce the side of Christ, the spear that held the sponge with vinegar, and the pillar of the flagellation. The blood is caught in a grail.

The groups approaching from the background are, on the left, martyrs, and, on the right, virgins. The pigeon in the top of the painting represents the Holy Spirit, shining light on all who are gathered.”  *

In his painting, Shibu adopts the basic composition of Van Eyk’s image, this time to mark the positioning of Bob Marley in music, as a Prophet, a new voice that was uncompromisingly egalitarian and anti- authoritarian.   By virtue of his ambiguous positioning Marley hovers above all these different crosses of egalitarian and liberating forces through his music and life, and thus has become, in this painting, an icon of equality, justice, freedom, end of slavery and a different universalism. The words are crystal clear in this: “Emancipate yourself from mental slavery”. A new agency, and a new song. A music sensitive to the fact that the music of God is in everyone, and refuses to play to the tastes of connoisseurial authority and its petrified academism (Brahminism) that refuses to acknowledge the common man as a creator/listener/ viewer of art .

While Marley faces us, the women singers have their faces turned towards the left side of the painting, towards something else, something that we still do not know, but something that is still there. The floor is composed of black and white (a little muddied with a slight tinge of ochre yellow, to be more exact, bringing to mind Genet’s description of whiteness in his play ‘Blacks’.) floor tilings. While Bob keeps his feet in a black space (Black egalitarian politics) the feet of the women are mostly in the white ones or in somewhat ambiguous positions, where they also cast their shadows. This is the particular relation that Bob Marley’s position has tried to address, since as a person of mixed parentage, he had insights into the ways in which both systems worked, and he had opted for the black square as his own location. At the same time he knew that there was something in sexuality and gender that had connected black women to the other ‘races’, and to other women, since he was also aware of his mother’s position and the mixed legacies of his own music. This could also have been a reference to Black faith, which was ultimately something that could form the backbone of another kind of universalism, a faith  in God and humanity, and in politics that came from the face of adversity and could only be deep. Since he was well aware that it were the black and marginal folks of the world that had kept this faith alive, his musical voice propounded this faith everywhere and for everybody without a tinge of self doubt. Since the ‘women’s question’ was also one that was asked constantly by white folks to implicate black men(lynching), he was aware that it was a complicated issue. To deny this question simply would be to avoid the murky areas of the relationship between races, and since he knew that this would be unacceptable to black women, he tried to endorse it with all his will, while at the same time pointing towards the different side that black women’s politics had to take, in its double edged presence in faith, gender, race and class. As a spiritual leader who had taken along with him an African trajectory of submerged  spiritual knowledges, and as a king who had instituted equal rights and justice constitutionally in his country, Haile Selasie had inspired the Jamaicans, especially Rasta men, and Bob Marley celebrated this indigenous model over all models of Universalism that were tainted by slavery, racism and colonialism.

“Stepping on the shoulder, on the breast

And stepping on this branch and that branch….”

Thus goes the lines of a native song in Malayalam held in popular memory as sung by C.J. Kuttappan a well known Dalit singer.

                                C.J.KUTTAPPAN


 The Bob Marley of Shibu’s painting is a person of this strategy and subtle tread, one who hovers over his black square, but also moves on through the white and coloured spaces, because the point, once you are able to stand somewhere (identity) is to move on, and to find ways to do so. Having stood somewhere, as a ‘Black man’ of mixed race parents, and a womanist (No woman, no cry) himself, Marley was also aware of the fact that to stand, you have to step on the space where you stand, and to step there with a certain irreverence, because ultimately the irreverence, or the spirit of freedom that touches you as the enunciating subject is also one that needs movement, and to move on you need to step in and on several spaces. To step on the ‘shoulder’- which in Malayalam is associated with fraternity (to put arms around someone’s shoulder, to climb on ones shoulder etc.) and on the breast (at once a space connected to motherhood , feminine difference and sexuality) and further on one branch and the other one (Where the ‘branch’ is the branch of a tree , to climb which you will have to step alternately on one branch after the other. This branch, then is also a space, a space of knowledge upon which you step, when you ‘hope, step and jump’.). Stepping on the shoulder or breast, like any person who has handled kids would know, is not simply an attempt at belittling fraternity, but a fundamental trait of knowledge, because knowledge is always a movement and it refuses to stand alone or to always stand in the same place, and is, like a fidgety kid always stepping around and climbing up everywhere, including on to its mother’s body, dancing to an unknown music that permeates its soul. This irreverence brings to my mind the story of Mr.M.J.Pandit, a dalit of central Kerala who was a follower and aide to Mr.P.J.Sabharaj, a spiritual and community leader of all sorts of social and political outcastes and most marginalized sections who had lived in a space well beyond the legally accepted. 

DCUF

Bhramarshikal Sabharaj Thirumenikal was a grate organizer of adi Dravidian from India born in 1926 oct 2 at Kottayam in Kerala. His father was grate poykayil Johanan and his mother was Marampadathu Mariyam. He always believed in Poykayil appachan’s songs,speech and adi Dravidian policy for the revolution of depressed people.

P.J. SABHARAJ

Sabharaj himself was supposed to be an illegitimate son of Poykayil Appachan, and had around him people who were totally outside the sphere of ‘legitimacy’. As a leader, he had valiantly fought for these people, being ‘illegitimate’ himself in so far as legitimacy goes within the conceptions of a ‘criminal’ justice system. As a preacher, singer and crusader of this ‘liminal’ space, M.J.Pandit used to adorn himself with the title ‘Rev. M.J.Pandit’. Since it was a known fact that he was a person who had left the service of the church behind as a preacher to seek the solidarity  and fraternity of the most marginalized, people were want to ask him about the title, to which he would reply laughing: “No man. That ‘Rev.’ doesn’t stand for ‘Reverent’. No way. It stands for ‘Revolutionary’.” And Mr. Pandit knew that (The name ‘Pandit’ itself was chosen as a sarcastic diatribe against Brahminism.) God was, in spite of all attempts at misguiding the people to the contrary, a true Revolutionary. And in another song coming from the subaltern anti- caste movement, we have two contradictory notions about god: One of a ‘Lord that turns the stone inside you’ and the other about a ‘Lord (Brahmin) that circumambulates around a piece of rock.”

The idea of ‘stepping’ in these various spaces, as the native song reveals, also brings up the question of several other varieties of ‘stepping’ : stepping on someone’s toe, stepping on the head of early egalitarianism(Vamana), stepping on bad blood(Kaaliya),on  Poothana(illegitimate mother),on  Karna (illegitimate fraternity), on ordinary people (down trodden). In reply to these comes The Wailer’s and Peter Tosh’s voice- ‘I am a steppin’ razor…’, an open challenge, a courageous call to action. Marley knew that the true calling of God lay in his basic notion of equality, justice, liberty and fraternity, and hence he called out for that from Jamaica (Equal rights and justice..) and that call was taken up by people from all around the world. As a person born and brought up in the immediate surroundings of the historic sites of Kerala’s anti-caste spiritual resurgence, Shibu could easily find solace in the musical traditions of Africans and Afro- Americans and to him the music of Bob Marley was the mascot of a world presence to which he could return without any inhibition. As an artist, he had done several portraits of Bob Marley all through his career, and to put it in another way, one could say that as an artist trained in print- making, it won’t be excessive to say that Shibu Nateshan is adept at the art of making a correct impression.

PROPHETS TOUCH CLAY BECAUSE IT WOULD MAKE THEM GLAD. AND THE BRAHMIN WOULD RUN OFF TILL HE SHEDS HIS TWINE, BECAUSE CLAY WILL POLLUTE HIM, WHAT SHIT !!

ഒരു രാമനെയാരു മര്യാദ പഠിപ്പിക്കും?

ഒരു രാമനെയാരു മര്യാദ പഠിപ്പിക്കും?

എങ്ങാണ്ടൂന്നൊരു രാമന്‍
ഞങ്ങളെ മര്യാദ പഠിപ്പിക്കാന്‍ വന്നു.
ഒരു മര്യാദയുമില്ലാത്ത രാമന്‍
തന്നെ വേണോ മര്യാദ പഠിപ്പിക്കാന്‍?
സീതയുടെ അടുക്കളയില്‍
രാമന്റെ കഞ്ഞി വേവില്ല
രാമന്റെ അടുക്കളയില്‍
സീതയ്ക്കുള്ള കഞ്ഞിവെന്തില്ല.
പൊന്നു കണ്ടു മഞ്ഞളിച്ച്
പൊന്നായപെണ്ണിനെപ്പോലും
കാട്ടിലയയ്ക്കുന്നവന്‍ രാമന്‍
പഴിചാരാനെപ്പോഴും
ഒരലക്കുകാരനെ കെണ്ടെത്തും
അലക്കുകാരന്‍ തന്നെ കേള്‍ക്കണോ പഴി?
ശംബൂകന്റെ തപസ്സിനെ
ഭയത്താലെ നേരിട്ടവന്‍ രാമന്‍
തലയെടുപ്പുള്ള ബാലിയെ
കൊല്ലുവാനമ്പയച്ചവന്‍
കേള്‍ക്കണോ തത്വ വിചാരം?
കൊടുത്താലിരട്ടി കിട്ടുന്നേടത്ത്
ഒളിയമ്പെയ്യുക ഉത്തമം!
ബാലിയുടെ പെണ്ണിനെ സുഗ്രീവന്നു കൊടുത്തതോ?
അവളോടു ചോദിച്ചോ കാര്യം?
ചില മര്യാദകളങ്ങനെ!!
എന്തിനുമേതിനും ഹനുമാനെ
തിരഞ്ഞു നടന്നിട്ടെന്താ കാര്യം?
വാലുള്ളതു രാമനല്ലേ-
വര്‍മ്മയല്ലേ, വാര്യരല്ലേ?
കിടന്നു കൊടുത്താലിതിലപ്പുറം
കിടയ്ക്കും രാമനിൽ നിന്ന്!
മിത്രമല്ലാത്തവന്‍ രാമന്‍
വിശ്വാമിത്രന്റെ യാഗത്തില്‍-
എത്രപുകയെരിഞ്ഞാലും
വീഴാതെ വരുമോ, തീട്ടം?
ശൂര്‍പ്പണഖയ്ക്കെന്താ കുറ്റം
കാണാന്‍ ചേലെത്രയുള്ളവള്‍
എന്താ സ്റൈലു പോരെന്നുണ്ടോ?
ചേലയുരിയാന്‍ തമ്പുരാന്‍ വന്നാല്‍
പൂറുകാട്ടിക്കൊടുക്കണോ?
വാളുകൊണ്ടറുത്തതൊക്കെ
തിരികെ വെക്കാന്‍ വാളിന്നാമോ?
മുറിച്ചാല്‍ മുലകൂടിച്ചേരും
മുറിച്ച മൂക്കും ചേരും
ശൂര്‍പ്പണഖ പറയുമ്പോള്‍
രാമന്റെ കഥ തീരും.
രാമനും പഠിക്കട്ടെ ചില മര്യാദകലിങ്ങനെ
ഇത്രയൊക്കെപ്പോരേ,
രാമായണം?
എഴുത്തില്ലത്തച്ഛനാവാൻ
കോട്ട് തയ്ച്ചു നടക്കുന്നോര്‍!

SOME TIMES I TALK

Some times I talk to the bourgeoisie

For brahminism I do not like

Sometimes I talk to the working class

For capitalism, I do not like

Some times I talk to the native

For colonialism, I do not like

Sometimes I meet with Nandubhai

For  pompousness, I do not like

Sometimes I give you a kiss

Because kisses melt ice

And boil me no end.

Sometimes I talk  to Mr.Babu

Because I don’t like officialese

And won’t beat a race.

Sometimes I go to a sermon

And eat a plate of minnows,

A cruel act, I beg your pardon!

Some times I stop at Sivagiri

And call out to a friend,

Am I impatient, dear one

Or in-patient, Doctor!

Oh, you there! Still one and not many?

Sometimes I talk to a grandma

Because she do sing her teethless song

And her wrinkles open like roses

That will never die.

Sometimes I play with kids

And search for the son of God

And would come to know that all of us were-

Oh, what confusion!

Some times I talk to a sinner, isn’t it a sin?

Sometimes I see a shadow

With a long tail, is it rama or mara

How would I know?

Because coins have many sides

And this one shows just one.

I don’t like rama, but if it were rama

And If he were a queen

I wouldn’t still bother

Because I don’t like fraud

Maybe Sita knows better!

I put it there and I wonder-

Was it put right?

There I see her

Are you not Rama?

That is just right

But you keep your tail from under me

And from under Bali, for he is such a one!

Why not let Sita go, and marry your Hanuman, at least, he is such a man!

A hunter knows to close a dogs mouth

But waits for the sign

And a fool creeps up from behind thinking it all his doing

And wisdom walks through alleyways

And you have never walked there.

And wisdom walks through weaver’s lanes

Looking out for Kabir.

And wisdom walks in Braillet’s ways

For she did know a craft

So what if a witch calls you to bed, wouldn’t you better go?

Why shouldn’t Rama wash for us, though not to settle a score.

Oh you traveler of the forests, where is ayyappa?

Oh, he sleeps in Shabari’s hut, isn’t it a crime

And he sleeps in Vavar’s house, Isn’t it a crime

Oh,  sits like Janu’s old uncle, oh what a poor guy?

Why were you in that shit house so long?

Oh they trapped me in that place and told that they would feed me gold

And they shat all around me

And I wouldn’t  still eat a crumb.

And they went to East fort, which still was in the west

And they smoked their incenses and showed off their licences

And put a pot on women’s backs

As if she didn’t know!

And they smoked the city pot

Till they boiled in their pots

And she, every which way they searched

Was no more to be seen!

And she met with Mohammed

A painter to the core.

Sometimes I talk to the politician

Because network is bad elsewhere

And I know that either way, the world doesn’t care.

Because women have kissed me with their fire

My ire is all but gone,

And you Hanu,  who  gave me a kiss,

Because you know me

For a guy who never saw

A tail where there was none

And was all respect to Bali

Whom Rama wouldn’t meet

‘cause he was frightened no end

To put up a fight

Your bedtime hero

Who never sulks!

I knew him for zero

Every whichever way he went!

A NOTE FROM A REACTIONARY PREACHER

Benoy.P.J

I don’t accept immanence because it is a big word

I don’t  separate my theology

From my philosophy

And I am no theologian

Neither am I a philosopher.

I don’t sit in my shithouse

And shit on common people

I try to clean their shit

Everywhere and everytime

Even when they have shat on me.

I don’t like immanence

Because it hides slavery

In every word

And I think that I am autonomous enough

Because God has given it to me.

I don’t separate my music from my art

And my art from philosophy

Because I know that

Boundaries were not made by God

But by Power, and I know that power is no God,

And I try to shit on it every whichever way I can.

I know

I am not so well equipped

Because many folks have told me so

But I do whatever I can

Every whichever way I can.

And I think that God knows

A coin

Even when they say

It has only one side,

And I know it too, I know it, I know it now.

And the birds know it

Because they would sit on my chest

Even when friends have dropped me

Like hot iron.

Yes, I am hot, I see some porn

And I do masturbate.

And I deal in art

And get ‘profits’

Though I don’t fill my lockers with shit

Since I have none.

THE DONKEY

BENOY.P.J

The donkey has been thought of as a brainless animal

The donkey, that had carried Jesus on his back!

The donkey has been thought of as one who brays

Because the world had closed its ears to its music

The donkey would carry a sack of sand

To the hill top, while no horse would venture to go

It would carry a wayfarer without a crown

And it dangles its organ and cries out its frustration

An animal of the street side, why should it loiter in stables?

I SLAM

I SLAM CERTAIN THINGS.

I SLAM THE DOOR ON HIERARCHY/ HEIR ARCHY

I SLAM IBLIS FOR HIS DENIAL OF MAN.

I SLAM EXPLOITATION

I SLAM INEQUALITY.

I SLAM RACISM.

I SLAM SLAVERY

I SLAM NATIONALISM.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF PLEASURE.

I SLAM PREJUDICE.

I SLAM HATRED.

I SLAM THE OPPRESSION OF WOMEN.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF DIVORCE RIGHTS

I SLAM THE SANCTIONS ON WIDOW REMARRIAGE

I SLAM NUCLEAR FAMILIES FOR THEIR DENIAL OF THE SOCIAL.

I SLAM THE RESTRICTIONS ON CARNAL LOVE

I SLAM GENDER PREVILEGES

I SLAM THE PENALIZATION OF SEXUAL DIFFERENCE

I SLAM CASTE.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF GOD.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF LOVE.

I SLAM HEGEMONY.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF DIVERSITY.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF THOUGHT

I SLAM IDOLATORY.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF ART.

I SLAM THE DENIAL OF PARADISE.

I SLAM INJUSTICE OF EVERY KIND.

SO I AM ISLAM.

“ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍, ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍!”

“ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍, ചെന്നായ്ക്ക"ളെന്ന്
ഉച്ചത്തില്‍ ഓരിയിടുന്ന ചില മനുഷ്യരെ
നാമെല്ലാം കാണാറുണ്ട്.
അവരുടെ യോജിച്ചുള്ള ചിലപ്പു കേള്‍ക്കുമ്പോള്‍
ചിലപ്പോള്‍ അവരോടൊപ്പം കൂടുവാന്‍
നമ്മള്‍ക്കും തോന്നിപ്പോവും.
പറുദീസയിലേക്കുള്ള ദൂരം താണ്ടുവാന്‍
ചിലപ്പോള്‍ നമ്മള്‍ക്കവര്‍ ഒരു പായ് വഞ്ചി
ഒരുക്കിത്തരുകപോലും ചെയ്യും.
ചിലപ്പോഴവര്‍ നീണ്ട നാവുകാട്ടി
താടികാട്ടി
ചിരിച്ചുകൊണ്ടു നമ്മെ ഗുദഭോഗം ചെയ്യും.
ഒരമ്മയുടെ വയറ്റില്‍ നിന്ന്
ഡോക്ടറുടെ സഹായമില്ലാതെ കുഞ്ഞിനെ  പുറത്തെടുത്ത്
ശൂലത്തില്‍ കുത്തിനിര്ത്തും
റാസിന്റേയോ ദാണ്ഡിയായുടെ ചില ചുവടുകള്‍ വെച്ചുകൊണ്ടുതന്നെ.

ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍, ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍!
എന്നോരിയിടുന്ന ചില മനുഷ്യരെ
നമ്മളെല്ലാം കാണുന്നുണ്ട്.
അയല്‍വാസിയില്‍ സാത്താനെകണ്ട്
ഉറക്കംകെട്ടുപോവുകയോ
ഒരശരീരിയേറ്റ് അസ്തപ്രജ്ഞരാവുകയോ
ചെയ്തതുമാവാം.
ഭയത്തിന്റെ ചില വെള്ളപ്പാച്ചിലുകളില്‍
അവരൊലിച്ചുപോവുന്നതു കണ്ടു
കൈകൊട്ടിക്കളിക്കുന്ന ചില ആത്തേമാരേയും കണ്ടിട്ടുണ്ട്.
സംഗീതത്തിലേക്കു നീട്ടിയെറിഞ്ഞ
ചില തന്ത്രികളില്‍
വിരലോടിക്കുവാനുള്ള അവരുടെ കാത്തിരിപ്പ്
എന്നു തീരുമോ ആവോ?
പല പരിതസ്ഥിതിക്കാരുടെയിടയില്‍
ഒരു വ്യവസ്ഥിതിക്കാരനായ
അദ്ദേഹത്തിന്റെ നാവ്
പതിവില്ലാത്ത ഏതോ നിറം  കാണിക്കുന്നു.
ഇന്‍വെര്‍ട്ടറുകള്‍ക്കു കീഴില്‍
മൂടിവെച്ച ഇരുട്ട്
എപ്പോള്‍ പുറത്തുവരുമോ ആവോ?
ഇരുട്ടും വെളിച്ചവും തമ്മില്‍ കലരുന്ന
ഒരു സായംകാല ആകാശം നിറംമാറി മങ്ങുന്നത്
ഒച്ചുകള്‍ക്കു നിറം മാറുന്നത്
പല്ലികള്‍ ഇണചേരുന്നത്
പട്ടി കൂടുവിട്ടു മണ്ടുന്നത്
കത്തിച്ചുപിടിച്ച നിലവിളക്കുമായി
പ്രധാന മന്ത്രി പൂമുഖത്തെത്തുന്നത്
"ദീപം... ദീപം" എന്നു കയ്യടിച്ചുകൊണ്ട്
ബെസ്റ്റ്  ബേക്കറിയില്‍ വെന്ത ഇറച്ചിയുടെ
ചെറിയ ഒരു കഷണം ആരോ ചവയ്ക്കുന്നത്-
എല്ലാം “ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍, ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍!”
എന്ന വായ്ത്താരിയോടൊപ്പം കേള്‍ക്കുമാറാകണം.
നാട്ടിലെ പാവം ചെന്നായ്ക്കള്‍ക്കിനീ
മുഖംപൊത്താതെയെങ്ങിനെ നടക്കാനാവും?
പൈപ്പിലെ പൊട്ടിയൊഴുകുന്ന വെള്ളത്തില്‍ മുങ്ങിപ്പോയ കാറിനൊപ്പം
ഒരുമ്മയും ഒരു ചാട്ടവാറും എനിക്കും തന്നേക്കൂ
റെയില്‍പ്പാതകളിലൂടെ തെന്നിനീങ്ങുന്ന ഒരൊട്ടകത്തേയും
ചുരുങ്ങിയത് ഒരു കൈലേസെങ്കിലും.