T

LOOKING BACK FROM A HORSE CART

 

On the street,  a horse cart, that strange and curious residue from a past age, which sometimes and for some people hold the place for a time machine of sorts. As it passes by with its bells clanging, you become conscious of a peculiar expression on the face of its present traveller, a compounded look, o a certain pride- of somehow and suddenly having become capable of entering and reliving a 'golden' past, a glory that entire generations had to forego - mixed with it, an embarassment coming from the acute awareness of the farcical nature of the present situation- its lack of prestige,its dubious existence as a curio alongside more flamboyant means of conveyance, and the acute awareness of those gazes that would like to fix you somewhere in the past, through this nostalgic act of yours. A rare and revealing instance of the actual sighting of a Leviathan which has haunted civilizations and was then revealed.

WE DON'T WANT NO EDUCATION, WE DON'T WANT NO SELF CONTROL- HEY TEACHER, LEAVE THE KIDS ALONE!

  BUDDHAS WHEEL STARTED TURNING, AND YOU CAN MOVE WHILE YOU ARE SITTING!

CS RAJESH AND THE POETIC IMAGINARY OF A COMMON MAN

While travelling
Have you seen
The trees running backwards?
Enquires the teacher in the class.

Have not seen it yet
When we do look
We only see Malls, flats,
Mobile towers,
Huge jewellery shops,
Saree shops
And all that
Running backward-
Comes the kid's reply.
(Speed, C.S.Rajesh) 

CS Rajesh, the poet presently stays in Kochi,Kerala, and is a prominent emerging voice on the Malayalam poetry scene.. His poetry started with rhythmic structures of a reciteable variety, often with certain dominating and simple patterns, done as a part of a roaming young poets activist fervour, (Endosulphan poems) brought out as cds. Soon, as a poet who roamed around in the villages in the area ranging from Kochi to Trivandrum  reciting his poetry, he moved on to structurally and politically more exciting forms and patterns, often in blank verse, talking in the language of unconscious deep structures, political subversions, quirky linguistic play and turnabouts. Poems like "The dog who bites' subtly turns around the majoritarian imaginary of KG Sankarapillai's 'Bengal' ,in which the dog is entrusted with obedient domestic tasks like barking at thieves, etc., mainly done at the behest of its so called 'masters'. It tries to see the master himself as a dog who bites 'tress'passers and is loyal to his clan background, slowly on the way to turn themselves back to snarling hounds, but obviously without tooth (pandan naayude pallinu souryam pande pole bhalikkunnilla..), or maybe even as a burden to the family of wild dogs which enjoy their lives and rejects the chain and slavery altogether. This complex status of the animal return of man, of the snarl of feudal authority towards the people, marks the plights of a killer age, as in Binu Pallippad's poetry, where the light of a cigarette butt suggests subtle threats and tensions of a troubled life ,that a person like the 'Invisible man' (Ralph Ellison)easily recognizes.
Many of his characters and situations parody the complex interplay of caste and class, often in overtly secular situations like processions of party workers, where the enthusiasm to voice a slogan against caste is suddenly slackened by the activist's  realization that a love affair is fledgling between a family member of his own and another lower caste party workers grandson(Slogan). Another similar twist is related to the large scale mechanization of various works in the paddy fields, responding to which the poet adds: If there were to be machines for doing the postering and flagstaff erecting, the old man in the colony will also have been able to reach his home early(Machine).
Against these large and inhuman structures of humiliation and canonisation, he ventures on a journey of love, picking his words and situations from everyday experiences, reflecting on them with a subtle pride and defiance, telling the world as to how he loves it and expecting it to respond, though at times desperate about its nonchalance. Sometimes it is a painful and distant memory, at others an intimate glance or expectation.
"On the palmtree
 Full of nests
 Where is hers?

Of the one who had
With a single song
Made the darkness
Blossom into morn.

She who wouldn't lower
Herself to my shoe flower plant
Though I had tried hard
To call her with my different tone.

Who by not singing
May turn my tomorrow
Into a harsh mid-summer noon.

On this palmtree
Full of nests
One is hers.
(Voices)
In another instance (Journey) the words resonate something of the charm of  Chinese "clody ' poetry
" You
In a little while look at me,
In a little while look at the cloud
I feel that
When you look at me, you are very far;
When you look at the cloud, you are very near. "
-(Far and near, Gei Cheng)

"After having
Seen her off on the train
He returns
On an autorikshaw.

That is:
He is now
On that train
And she
Travelling in the auto.
-(C.S.Rajesh, Journey)

One of the poems that Rajesh playfully calls 'Umbris' (tiny poems) which in a few lines capture the concentrated energies of a perceptive soul, frolicking with the language to articulate a shift in positions, in the gazes, the continuation of wayward thoughts. At another instance it is a Latin American poem that critiques the use of the figure of the dove as an emblem of peace that is called to mind, but this time also with an original recouping of peace as fundamentally built upon the labour of ordinary folks/ crows sometimes pointing towards their exclusion from the pedestals of our 'peace prizes' and 'prized peace'.

" We don't really know
What those doves
Do for assuring peace to you.

We crows
Those who
At least do eat up the waste
That you throw at each other
In the night
Before you meet each other in the morning
And start fighting.

On earth
There is no country that wouldn't
Face rioting
If we were to decide that
From tomorrow on-wards
We will not clean up any waste.

Yet as to why it is that you
Always hold only them doves
As the symbols of peace-
And why do you repeatedly
Release them into the skies
That I could never make any sense of!
 -(Rajesh, The bird of peace.)

In another poem, Rajesh subtly points to the lack or under representation of subordinated people or castes in political leadership- a political procession to him appears like a large serpant with a white hood (leaders) and dark hind parts. Another decisive twist in  his poetry is where he looks at the sparse audience and largely upper caste/elite crowd on the stage, taking a polemical aim at the political game of all the  three fronts. Th Olympic logo, then rolls aside a bit to reveal an aporia of our sporting and gaming, of under representation of lower castes, minorities, or women in various fields.. The death of Buddha at the hands of Ram and Manu, children of Yashodhara, is referred to us the tragic event that had ended egalitarianism in the brahminic world- (What is the reason for only the fatherless kids being  left outside in the rain?)..He scoffs at the  'One who laughs when somebody asks his  name , adding his surname(caste) innocently, as if they had asked( Out of Syllabus).

Blossoming a bit away and later from the modernist episteme and epoch, these encounters of language are moderated by a levelling and egalitarian courage, speaking truth in a parrhesiastic manner, directly to power, to political hierarchies and envisioning an evolvement of the imaginary beyond hegemonic understanding.

ये सूरज आपका है

ये मेरा दोस्त है
प्राची उसका नाम
बिनोय है मैं
अब का या पहले का ?
क्या करूँ मैं ?
इतना साल से
दिल मैं रहेगा तो
दिल को क्या होगा ?
प्यार को क्या ?
मिलना मुश्किल है तो
कैसे मिलन ?
पता नहीं उनको भी ऎसा है तो
क्या होगा?कैसे?
छोड़के गया वहाँ से
जिस जगह मुछको भगाया
वहां से गया वो भी
अब तो क्या करूँ ?
उसको कैसे मिलूँ ?
ये मेरा प्राची
कहाँ है वो ?
रास्ता पे ये फूल ज्यादा नहीं धा मेरा
अब तो बारिष गिरता है
मोरे आया पेड़ में
फिर भी नहीं मिलेगा तो
आगे कैसे नाचूँ?
कैसे आऊं फूल 
पहाड़ मे जंगल में
और हमारा दिल मे ?
बच्ची कहाँ है उसका?
क्या करूँ वो?
क्या नाम है उसका?
और क्या तेरा?
बेट्टा को क्या हुवा ?
केस उनको मिलूँ -
और तुम को ?
आजाओ मेरा सात
बैदो
समय है हमको
बात करो कुछ
नहीं हे तो कैसा ?
ये सूरज आपका है
और मेरा भि
मोर का आवाज़
आते है दूर से
पता नहीं की ये भाषा
ढीक है या नहीँ
फिर भी हम भी
आवाज़ देता है
कैसे करूँ ये प्यार?

SGPOI- RADICAL GOVERNANCE AT ITS ZENITH AND DOWN UNDER

(A SHORT STORY)

While watching the movie series Lucia by some Cuban sexpert, I, for one thing was disgusted at the prospect of political correctness, which for the ordinary man would mean an endless queing up  and mechanical reproduction in the assembly line and the beverage circuit, or maybe something akin to a ‘reporting at the L.C office syndrome’ to get your coconuts plucked. My coconuts are due to be plucked, say at a regular interval of 30-40 days, which may vary, say, during the monsoons and winter, and so it could just be enough for the plucker who with his new devices could handle it in no time (since I have just two coconut trees in my yard, of which one has still not yielded fruit, to keep it in mind and turn up around that time and make it happen.). This would just be an arrangement of convenience between me or somebody at home and the plucker, since this is also almost an impersonal business, though it could also maybe thought of as a social ordeal.

But what frustrates me with Lucia, which my friend Pradeep on the contrary, finds interesting, is the fact that the party feminists have to give my girlfriends year long instructions, since every time I try to take one,  Mr.Power Butt from the Edith Butler League(Performance Theory) will immediately have to be contacted, and upon which he would arrive with his tele-prompter, ready scripts , Grotto(!)vskyian devices of absolute poverty, and sexpertise to give practical and theoretical orientation to the culpable sexual partner, instructing her in the ‘common problems and solutions to problems related to sex’, as per the available manuals, which are all differently conceived as per your location, office, economic status, residential status and so on. The party has, no doubt, by now got a very efficient and smoothly functioning team of sexperts, feminists, psychiatrists, and teachers who give instructions, and it is supposed to be very efficient, but every time they get ahead with the process, I would be unable to meet this girl friend, with whom I am still barely acquainted, and their work ultimately seems to take too long, that I feel too frustrated and start looking for someone else, and in the meanwhile she may develop a more personal attachment to the Power Butt, engagement expert or somebody and would need a longer period to get out of it, and then after the ordeal, seems to be no more interested in me. So I move on as fast as I can to seek another acquaintance to go with me, and since the initial process of instructions has not been completed, am supposed to restart again, submit my request at the L.C.Office, which they will soon process, meanwhile my new girl friend finds it easier to seek certain arrangements with the sexpert, so that we can continue our conversation as the lovers alongside the classes, albeit discreetly, but this is severely objected as undemocratic and selfish by the Power Butt, who, in the meanwhile had raped her, to give her some expertise in the question of rape, subjected her to torture and me to public humiliation, pimped her and ultimately forced her to drop me since I am an acute case of ‘loveless arrogance’, perversity, autocratic behavior and so on. Since there seemed to be some differences between the sexpert and Power Butt on these counts, I could, probably, and if I want to,  appeal to the panel, or to one side, though the results of these deliberations could only be conjunctural. Meanwhile, they would advice both of us to go in for some other fast affair, which could be done while the things are sorted out.  Totally frustrated and in need of a companion, one would try a bit, keeping the colour code, body shape, class aspect etc. in mind, but since ‘moota marriages’ or casual sex is not allowed for vagrants ,immigrants, outside the institution, and to persons of ‘intermittent’ residence, one can only hope for it after, say three years of continuous residence. I have no plans to reside somewhere for such long periods, would like to move about, and need some company and to satisfy my emotional, intellectual and sexual needs, but such cases are treated generally in the category called the ‘exceptional’, which is scorned at generally and is not very well received by the panel since it leads to vagabondage. This problem, the intractability of one’s sexuality, is generally thought of as beyond instruction, grab somebody, or join the panel, after which you will no more need to seek on your own for a girl friend, or someone you love, since the regular supply of prospective lovers to be instructed has to be catered to.

‘You wouldn’t believe it, but I have not taken a lover for ages now, since we in the panel have to give regular practical and theoretical instructions, and still I survive without much grumbling”, the Power Butt, one day told me, admitting that socially love was intractable, and even beyond comprehension.

“You never wait enough” , he once told me, and to me it seemed to be both true and false, since most of my life was spent in such waiting, though I have to admit that in frustration, I have moved on to new lovers, after waiting a bit, in the hope that somewhere an affair can come true.

Another aspect, that such vagabondage results in, is that you never really can manage to land up an affair, because when you are into it at a place, there is a que, of already prospective lovers waiting ahead of you, but the indecision in the sorting out, makes you lose patience, and the teleprompter makes you run hither and tither, so that you soon get absolutely frustrated and move on. But then, since I am usually short on cash since my Power Butt maintains a parallel account in my name in the bank operating with his own devices among bank officials to siphon off whatever comes to me, and cash-strapped, I am on the run most of the time, seeking some space, love, cash or whatever. Power Butt is also very helpful, since he was once my father in law or something, sending me a new one from among his infinite number of kids every once in a while, upon which I have to call trauma-care, which he is always ready to supply, since he also runs the pharmacy and hospital businesses.

I refuse to submit to medicine (‘You need to be ill-treated!’ He would quip, as if it meant that I have to undergo psychiatric treatment, from which I had escaped with Allah’s grace.) and try to push off, but the panel is still there with new experts whom you have to tackle everywhere you go, and Power Butts all pervasive family, with their Blue fox- wagons.

I try to finally push off from a cliff or something, but the security instructs me that you are not supposed to climb up there, and though I just wanted to tell him that I just wanted to take the plunge down, since it seemed to be uncivil to divulge such juicy secrets about one’s personal life. I was no good at secrecy also, since the prompter with his editing and theater skills usually play my thoughts out far and wide, and since god had made it so, couldn’t even keep anything personal or secret in my mind, even if I were to wish so.

When I have a show at a gallery, or work in my studio, or am travelling, I would want to meet somebody there, have conversations, maybe, some love, sex or whatever, but this couldn’t happen, because I am either too open, or closed.

It would have been proper to grab at or pull someone close, but with other people around, and without a mind to compete, I am back to the painful fringe, like a dear, scalded in the wilder fires.

Sometimes I give out a wild call, make a wide rush, and then fall back, perspiring, because I can see that the teleprompter plays it out well to instruct that I am not very useful to somebody, not successful, or maybe too old, or frustrating, not taking to sex and so on.

This aberration, this not being satisfied, having resolved not to take to sexually aggressive attitudes, to leave space and initiative to the other person and so on, this rubbish called misogyny which one wanted to discard, this gender trap that one need to break- my my! a dizzying cocktail of morbidity and ‘high thinking!.. I frisk off, and go to bed, hoping that I may gain some sleep.

2

On the bus, Janaki sits in front of me and throws me a side-ward glance. I bent over and ask her, “Is this a bed-for d or Fargo?”

“Not just dining but also diving in, or driving in, as the mood goes, or comes.”

“Oh …oh… my my!! The ball is in your court, so deliver it, or hook it, chew or masticate, as you choose.”

“The choice is Don –e- Mallika and the coffers are full. Can I dine on your thighs, as cannibals do- for I am the last cannibal, on a cannon ball run , and since my canines are not fit for human flesh eating, I have to survive on sex,  and Lola has left me for a porn star, though I am a porn-star and mass generator in my own right. Can I come with you, dear?”

“Do you click-well?” she asked.

“ Not with my canines, dear, with a camera, yes. But the photo shoot is scheduled for another day, and the dining for yet another, so that I can enjoy some of your sex jokes and innuendos.”

“ Would you mind new company in- between?”

“Ya, with the thighs, that goes well, and any way I am always new, like you are, and had positioned myself in –between long back, though on the ground, they are two distinct positions, and the goal keeper is on leave, or in a bad mood. Can you still deliver?”

“The pick up van is ready sir, and a cruiser blade that was broken has been set right. What would you prefer, a weeks off in the wilds, or an overnight gallery visit?”

“A gallery visit, dear.. For I was expected to show there and am going to stay on for a few months, until the crab that has caught me between my thighs can be relieved, and new milk can cleanse the throat a bit so that I can venture into the softer tones.”

“True for both of us, dear.. For you must have heard me crying ho(a)rse, while I should have picked an arse, or a butt, but the system used to allow only butts, and I wanted freedom to prevail and so chose to take only calf till a balance accrues to my bank account, and the world is set right, and let alone for its own devices, while we enjoy our flights.”

“My dear Benoy, we all want your calves to enjoy, and joy is willing to share some.. as for David, the Frickens and Furionickens are dining together, and as for moors or roots or anchors, he is without any, terribly footloose, fucking his crew on the boat, and with new women clients and cruisers, easing out a bit.”

“ My dear, I am thrilled at the prospect, and the throb is showing up. Hope you will rush here before it grows cold, since the girlery is open, forgive me my spelling in this heat!” 

“I hope you would do away with history and sociology for a bit, concentrate on the politics of the thighs, and venture into fresh and undiscovered details, newly occurring, when the lingerie is on, and the lingering stops. The snakes will dance together now, man and woman, woman and woman, or man and man as it goes about, and the nutty coconut trees and arecanut trees will go nuts, with some cash (and no caste) to spare- Phew…!”

“We are on the way, the taps are running and soon the river will be back in shape, since hard water has been replaced by hard -ons, and no hardship is  welcome anymore.”

“As for those ships and sips, I couldn’t be too bothered, unless they do cruise, and don’t make you cry off into the night.”

“The milk is running from my breasts, and the fragrance is yours as well as mine , as a jasmine revolution is about to be completed, when we push ourselves into each other, and gel together, and know our softs and our hards, repeatedly till time make us swing apart.”

“ Oh my Mallika, your work is ready and so is mine, so we will no more part until it is convenient for us to, and we can ask someone in, in our spare time, when we are not too hard against each other!”

“ The crow pheasant is here, and Maz-ham has talked to the dogs, who may return to their thickets, as foxes are want to. So come on, before the wind fails, and make us seem like windbags, though I am not averse to the song in the wind, I would prefer it to move us and not tie us down in a bag.”

“That is done, dear. And one can already start humming the mallu song “Kunadnnoore kundanmaare kandeekka…’ as we are at it., If you are not mindfull, dear.’

“My mind is already full, and can’t take it much longer. So the body has to be shaken up and exhausted in play, rubbing, fondling and kissing till more space is available, and I can throw some of my stuff, to make for more of the body than just the brain. Oh… not to mention the licking, fucking, adoring and devouring. Vasisht is lingering around and has to go, because he may have to get his blade repaired, or accounts set right, but I expect you anytime now, so that he can see by himself as to what is to be done!”

“Oh… that is Linein that you quote. He was from Russia with love? No that is Ian Blaming- and that is cheap stuff- bollywood. We are from the wilds around here, and are gypsies. We were wondering whether you would accept our calling ourself so. Otherwise we may have to take to another name, which suits you, like Car-men or somethin’. And I am a woman.”

“You must be Trombadis, and not gypsies, Gypsies generally have to come from India, Transylvania or so on, should see Italian trans-avante garde and Toni Gotleave, and we eat nothing but meat. We dance well, sing all day and drink our fill.”

“ We don’t really know whether we can be called gypsies, and as you said, we are Trobadies, not Ram badies at all, but we find the use of the term complicated, and since we don’t by and large own cars (not that we are altogether averse to it), to call us Carmen seems to be abusive. So, since you are into it, how can we call ourselves?”

The girl in the yellow apparel had a dry face, and sat crouching like an open flower, Purvi/Paschimi/Panchami (?) not minding him too much.

“How much ??”

“We are open about it, we weigh you proper and decide, sometimes it is free of charge, when the other person needs it and can’t pay, sometimes a bit expensive, because we need money and people treat us like dirt when we are with them. I need you and may pay also, because you need something- that is how we are, as judicious as could be, without causing undue harm to the other person while we are together.

But as to how we should be named, whatever you may say, we may use a term that fits us and the occasion and may not bother about correctness. My designs are good for me and doesn’t disturb because of a certain caring and attachment that I have to the people around me. But the real question is whether we are equal in our love, equal and human, even animal. I am no robot and wouldn’t want myself to be programmed, so take care, we shall meet another day, there is the mela that is about to start, and you are expecting someone.”

“This kiss that my lips have been holding for you has started turning sour, my dear- since by some ill fate it hasn’t touched another’s for a while now, and the harshness is about to come, I hope you can reach me on time, before it goes up in fire. My eyes, that usually is with a certain respect, starts to have points that could pierce, my thoughts refuse to leave you and walk away for even a short moment, everything becomes connected to that id, that delight in you, in the other, in doubling this craving of mine, in making it many times as bold. You have taken me through many lives before giving it to me, this touch that I so deserve, this clasping, this clacking of teeth against teeth, the wetness of a pink probing tongue that speaks many languages, the need for you against me , the softness to which the bones give shape, the spectacles that I will remove with a kiss so loud that nobody will fail to hear it, and still so soft and velvet.”

“I refuse to give in, and not live on one’s own terms, I am indulgent, almost hopelessly so, thinking that a moment will give you to me, a moment for rejoicing, beyond boundaries, frontier stuff. The mosquitoes in the gallery have crowded over his head, evening is breaking, and my heart is buzzling with their tune.”

“Don’t sing that tune again, dear one, their thirst is lowering, and we are about there, have patience, things are getting into perfect rhythm, the black sun is friendly and co-operative, and the frauds that had riddled us for long are being exposed and even the culprits that had brought us to the verge are rejoicing, because they now know that there was nothing more thrilling than this trip, this fresh water that can cure, this libidinal connection that can see us through. Please hurry, my dear, before the darkness calls, or when it does, I have another journey to make.

“Purvi or Panchi can take you home tonight and sleep with you, but you will have to give her a massage, and see how she has faired in the meanwhile and you know Shagjan’s trip. We are surprised that here also, the sun had to be refixed, because the wheel was stuck a bit. But when the sun is in its orbit, and the wheel turning, love can no more be denied, and pleasure flows without a pause. So when you come, it is the right time to come, my dear.”

 “Mallika waits for me still, with the kids, and we have all a trip together, since the turn has come and the family tree has more branches and roots, so that we are all one large family, with prospects innumerable. The trips that we take are our own and in everyone, by God’s will, there is a treasure trove. From lip to lip, by word of mouth, from crotch to crotch, a light passes, as we feel the free flow in our veins, blood redeemed and recirculated.”

“As always, I am hopeful, dear!”

Dr.E.M.STALE’S PILL FOR EVERYTHING

                                                                          

Dr. EM Stale works for his patients overnight
How else could they be patients, any way.
He puts his hardwater in your tub
To make you healthy, wealthy and mice.
His expert advices on culture
And treatment of earwax with hot lead
Were heady preparations for infinite pleasure
(Nobody really cares for a Masochists pleasure
As he would do, and in what excesses!).
He has a pill for the right penis size,
The correct ovation and what not.

He despices money
And so lives in abject poverty
Stacking away his emeralds and stones
All around the globe.
 He may have felled somebody
With a rock
But nobody calls him Rockfeller.

His smithy may have brains to burn off
But nobody calls him a Smith
And 1984 has nothing to do with him.
Wherever you go
You can find him in a new shape
Selling a syringe to an addict
Like peddlers do.

He used to be in office everywhere
Though in the dark
He can only figure as a vicious serpant
He who stutters
And rails about how revolutions can be done in.
His magic is white, and so was his sun
Used to torturous heat or the biting snow.

It was he who had taught the world how to die
And to do so profitably for others.
Ho/spit/all-s were named after him
Though people knew that they only made
People sick
He respected others so much so that
You can expect them  to disappear the very next day.
If he killed a god on the street
He was sure to make good profit out of it
Even calling himself godly, and turning to be a priest.

The moon that he would like to topple
The country that he would like to top
Dr, Strangelove or Caligari may have known him
But as to his own kids
It was never so sure.

One day at ten foot bridge
Under which he was playing bridge
Along with a python that had floated dead
He found himself floating dead
And thought it good riddance.

PARADISE AGAIN.

SINCE DEATH ITSELF WAS AN EFFECT OF THE MURDER OF BUDDHA THE SUN GOD (RAVAN), BY THE REGIME INSTITUTED BY VISHNU(YAMA- THE ONE WHO STOPS ) AFTER HE MURDERED BUDDHA. RAM, THE SON BORN IN siddhartha's wife YASHODA (Yashodhara) to Anaximander (ALEXANDER- Dasharath(one with ten chariots)) and Buddhas own son manu together with vasisht and brahma murdered Buddha and tried to gain his powers by eating his meat ( the duck who lays golden eggs), but on his death there was infinite distress and disorder in the world, the spiritual leaders of the time tried to find a way out of this disaster and together tried to somehow contain the problems that occured in the indus valley and all around the world.After this, at the behest of ram ,the priests tried to contain the resultant destruction through rituals and magic, trying to create an alternate sun god at Modera, but since the regime of the world is based on the principles of egalitarianism which come from god, and as he is the only one who can rejuvenate and redeem the world, he can be replaced by no other, this created destruction and infinite turmoil, and an exodus. On that occassion buddha appeared to the world and said so-

 "I do not wish to be in this world which out of conceit and competition and a craving for power would try to murder god even if he were his own father and protector, because i have been harrassed no end by ram and his lot, abused so thoroughly, and humiliated so much that i could no more take it, and hence conceded to my own destruction or removal from this world for a period of time, and i allow ram to rule on in the world for a period of time according to his devices, since it is this that he desires, and since he thinks that he is better equipped than me to do this, and i agree to return to the world only if his rule creates a situation of corruption and degeneracy which could lead to a total destruction of the world, Since i have found that with his evil devicesl of mental telepathy, misinformation and cunning he had been able to convince my own people to act against me, and hence destroy my desire to cohabit with them. And since it would be impossible for him to rule the world , without god's help, i promise to delegate to him some of my powers like the power to know the thoughts in another person's mind. I expect you to act in the capacity of god as a just, truthful and benevolent person, eschewing all violence, and mindfull of the opinions of all people, since when a buddha comes to be murdered the world is bound to suffer and since as you can see the indus valley has been destroyed, resulting in murder and mayhem, exodus and total confusion, and as god i do not want this world to be destroyed. i will comeback only when by your own devices you have made your rule unjust, morally corrupt and intolerable. And when such an occassion occurs, you will no more be called god, but shall be recognized as satan, the son of god who wanted him to be destroyed, and thereby destroyed the earthly paradise and created a hell for his own people.And then God will redeem the world and put the world back in its place, as the paradise , regained for all time."

SIXER

When with charisma
And charismatic
You hit the ball beyond a boundary
The willows trembled
And the whispers ended
With jovious shouting
The six sirs
In the field
Knighted by Romans
Turned to romance
And boons aplenty
With mill of the floes among them
And keepers and fielders
Finding it difficult to let go
And the slips no more slipped
Belly dancing was allowed
The tummy grew trim
And the one who kept the wicket
Could do nothing but let go
As it flew hard and wild
And sped into orbit
Every bit in orbit
This black sun
That Michael was holding
And Lloyd stuttered,
Un moored, and in swing with the lord
The bugles blared and the googles glared
Under the Saas and Bahu tree
That lost ban-yan
And started its flight
In the dark sun
That Roberts enjoyed
And Richards  and Malcom
Gazed with ease at
As it flew through the wind
Growing ever faster in the new sky
Since everyone stood for the common wealth..

തരംഗിണിയോ പ്രവാഹിനിയോ രേവതി?

യതി മദ്ധ്യത്തില്‍ നിന്നഴിച്ച
അഴിഞ്ഞഴിഞ്ഞാടുന്ന
ആണ്‍-പെണ്‍പാമ്പുകളായവരില്‍
നിന്ന് തരംഗദൈര്‍ഘ്യമുള്ള ഗണനായികയാമൊരുവള്‍
(ചിലരുടെ നോട്ടത്തില്‍ ഗണിക)
തന്‍റെ കാമത്തെ വീണ്ടെടുത്ത്
തരംഗരൂപമാര്‍ജ്ജിച്ചപ്പോഴാണ്
പ്രവാഹിനി ഉണര്‍ന്നതും
തരംഗിണി നഷ്ടമാക്കിയ
തരംഗദൈര്‍ഘ്യങ്ങള്‍ നേടി രേവതിയിലും
ശരി വിളംബുകാരുടെ
അതിരുകാട്ടുന്ന മലകളും വിളംബങ്ങളും കടന്ന്
പെണ്ണഴകുകള്‍
പൂവിട്ടു വിടര്‍ന്നതും
കവിത പരന്നൊഴുകിയതും.
മീന്‍റെ വാലുള്ളവര്‍
പൂവാലന്മാരായി മാറിയതും
ഏതമ്മയും കുഞ്ഞാവുന്ന
തുണിയഴിച്ചാടുന്ന
ഉടലഴകുകള്‍ രൂപപ്പെട്ടതും.