THE SOVIET ONION

 

 

 

Recently I heard this debate

On the web

Where somebody

(A young guy no doubt)

Was going on and on

About the ‘Soviet Onion’

I didn’t really know

Whether to correct him

Or to laugh scornfully

And let the peeling go on and on

With wet eyes.

So there we are again

Talking about driving a troika

Or dancing it

With wet eyes, smiling.

 

FENCES

The bird sat on carefully conserved

silence

As if its feathers may break the eggs.

It's beaks a dull yellow

Sharp chisel to carve its young.

The yards had grown beyond measure

Walls or fences 

to keep everything in place

overgrown with fresh vines and buds

waving in the air.

THE OTHER DAY

 The morning was as it used to be

drizzling, a running nose

Birds flew about, expectant

Sun started rising

A wind blew the curtains

Spattering dry leaves all-about

The whistle of pressure cookers

And the whir of grinding and washing.

Clothes condemned to hanging

Doves pecking at unseen grain

The call reaching up to the skies 

From a nearby mosque.

Clouds hanging low

As if in mourning

The alternating scents of opening flowers

And cooking fish.

Someone in the shower-

water streaming down.

BIRTH DAY

 

 

Your birthday is not

The day you are born

But a memory

Of the anniversary of your birth.

So we celebrate our birth anniversary

But call it the ‘birth day’

Language gives you

That freedom, maybe.

ASKING FOR A FULLSKY

 

 

When women struggle

For half the sky

It is the conception in confinement

But the slogan forgets

The fact that every being

Is the owner to a full sky

So let us ask for a full sky

Woman , men, and every one

Half the sky may still be

Partial confinement,

And that is not enough.

PILGRIMS OF PROGRESS

 

 

Coming late after progress

After its story was played out

Its wars all lost

A pilgrim still

Searching in its

Big citadels

For its holy tales and spaces

Its machinery outdated

Clothes tattered,

Things have passed on into

A Post- Age

Yet the horses make their

Appearance

Vying for some safe spaces

No space seem to be safe

With this pandemic

Or perhaps

All spaces are.

Its theories, technology and rhetoric

Didn’t sustain

Progress left its folk tales and fairy tales

Sleuths, policing, fashions

Engineers, television

Every thing gives way to more sophistication

The pilgrims of progress all waiting

For things to pass.

 

 

അയയില്‍ തൂങ്ങിയ വസ്ത്രങ്ങള്‍

 

ഡബിള്‍ കോട്ടു മെത്തവിരിപ്പ് ഉണങ്ങിയിട്ടുണ്ട്

ജീന്‍സിനല്പം നനവു കൂടിയുണ്ട്

അടിപ്പാവാടകളും അപ്പടി തന്നെ.

അരയിലോ ഉടലിലോ ഒക്കെ വഴികള്‍ പിന്നേയുമുണ്ട

കനത്തവെയിലായതു കൊണ്ട്

 അതിവേഗം ഉണങ്ങിക്കിട്ടും.

അടിവസ്ത്രങ്ങളില്‍ ചിലതൊക്കെ തണലില്‍

കിടന്ന് ഉണങ്ങുന്നു

ചെറിയതണലില്‍ ആണെങ്കിലും

ഈ ഉണക്കില്‍ എടുത്താല്‍ മതി.

തുണികള്‍ അയയില്‍ തൂങ്ങുംപോലെ

തുമ്പികള്‍  അവയെ ചുറ്റി പാറി നടന്നോളും

മനുഷ്യര്‍ക്കു തൂങ്ങാന്‍ ഫാനുകളോ ഊഞ്ഞാലുകളോ

സമാനതകള്‍ അത്രയ്ക്കൊക്കെ കൊണ്ടു നിര്‍ത്തിയേക്കാം.

മരച്ചില്ലകളോ ഒക്കെയുണ്ട്.