Welcome 2011!

I feel terribly sad when each year leaves. I hate departures.
2011, I didn't  mind to welcome you, but now,  I find it hard to part you - we shared many stories.
I would certainly miss you, even when you didn't shower me any good fortune.
But, Each day you gave me hope.
You made me survive the tides.
You made me leap.
You made me go.
Now when you're minutes away to bid adieu, I'd like to plant a farewell kiss.
Mate, you gave me many moments. I will remember you.
No, I won't let you go. You're invited  to a private space where I breed memories.  Get in. Welcome.
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King size

[ Overheard a talk between two strangers somewhere.]

Person 1: [Irritated] ‘What do you know about Royalty? Living life King size?

Person 2: ‘Nothing much, hmm…, may have something to do with embellished palaces, red carpets, gold crowns or 'King size' foolishness beyond compare.’

Person 1: ‘Aargh!… filthy, do you guys come from clay? Man, it is all about blue blood! It is divinity, the pedigree of having an influential family way back from the days of your ancestors.’

Person 2: ‘Oh! Is that divinity making you a moron who sits and eats your grand dad’s sweat?’

Person 1: ‘How gross? Uncalled. Condescending. Do you know your family line? I can draw my family tree. Do you know the name of your great grandfather’s grand father? Simply can me.’

Person 2: ‘Yeah, even I can. My great grandfather’s grandfather’s grandfather was an ape. His son’s son’s son’s son was a Monkey King who had an even bigger mighty friend; who single-handedly burnt an entire nation torching by his tail…’

Person 1: ‘Gosh! Leave it. Give me a cigar.’

Person 2: ‘King size?’
Both of them laugh.
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എന്റെ പ്രണയം .

അതിരുക്കള്‍ ഇല്ലാത്ത  ഇരുട്ടിനെ പ്രണയിച്ച   നക്ഴത്രവും, ഉന്മാദിയായ കാറ്റിനെ പ്രണയിച്ച മഴമെഘവും, മഞ്ഞിന്‍ കണത്തെ പ്രണയിച്ച പുല്‍തലപ്പും, ഒളപരപ്പിനെ പ്രണയിച്ച നിറനിലാവും,  ഇന്ധിവരത്തെ കൊതിച്ച എന്റെ പ്രണയം പോലെ  തന്നെയായിരുന്നു. അറിയാതെ അടുതു. ദിശ മാറി വീശി. അനുനിമിഷം അലിഞ്ഞുകൊണ്ടിരുന്നു. അടുകുന്നതിനു മുന്നേ അകന്നു. വിരിയുനതിനു മുന്‍പേ അടര്‍ത്തി...

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Bloody blue!

Blue entices me as a sky, seduces as an eye, and intrigues as a sea.  Blue has become my new keenness to live. I’m obsessed to blue. Blue are my sleepless nights, filthy dreams and vagabond desires. Blue is my impatience running through the veins. Blue filters my restlessness, helpless sighs and the hopes carried within. Love was a blue pearl which I lost as an ear-stud. Blue haunts me. Blue flogs me. Blue provokes me to live. Bloody blue!
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Dark Plight.

Dark clouds expand the sea towards the sky.

Rain intensifies the morbid dusk.

Shore is silent. Waves went meek.

I’m narrowed down to a lifeless mannequin,

staring to a lone boatman faraway in the sea.

I'd fallen to a deep dark plight.

[Silence]

I did travel to my old misty dreams where – I was not alone,

Where I’d a shoulder to lean back, a countenance to fix my glue,

a smile to hold dear,

a happiness to be with, and;

sweetness of a wet lip that ignited a fire to live my all hopes.

When I turn back –

I miss my liveliness to be cheerful.

I miss a path which always had taken me to an unforced grin.

I miss a spring where two hearts pounded to be the same.

I miss a season of oneness.

[Silence]

Sea turned dark.

Sky turned dark.

Road back home turned dark.

I closed my eyes, I turned my vision dark.
I want to sleep with a deeper dark plight.
.

I want my surprise to shine.

How long should I be impatient?

Plain pain is seeping through;

Emotions are waiting to be exploded,

Nightmares have to be hand-cuffed,

Expectations have to be plucked away.

In the dream,

Yellow-black snake turned into a dragon-fly; and it flew into my eyes.

Hush puppies harmlessly bit my ankle.

I slept with a lady in a puffy red gown – I kissed her breast;

When I touched her hips, I saw the world revolve.

Nervousness is killing my nights,

Silence is eating my thoughts,

I’m being tied to my shoes buried deep down in the mud.

I want my surprise to shine; somewhere in (my) pale blank sky.

Help. Someone please, uproot me. Throw away.

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മുടി ടെന്‍ഷന്‍!

മുടിയില്ലാതവന് മുടിയില്ലാത്തതിന്റെ ടെന്‍ഷന്‍,

മുടിയുള്ളവന് മുടി കൊഴിയുന്നതിന്റെ ടെന്‍ഷന്‍,

മുടി കൊഴിയാതവന് മുടി നരക്കുന്നതിന്റെ ടെന്‍ഷന്‍! 

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Happy B'day Mia.

Mia could get high by a mere thought of her favourite Black Dog Scotch Whisky. She liked mint flavoured cigarettes too. Puffing out a large plume of smoke onto my face, Mia once said: “I want to free from all clutches of this world, I don’t want to live a typical [Catholic] woman who ultimately fall slave to her husband. I don’t want to wash anyone’s underwear. I want to let loose my self, I want to nullify my existence, and I want to fly!”

I was beaming at her quick changing expressions, which was in a way, animated along momentary frowns well poised with her talk. Seeing my eyes gluing to hers, she took a second puff and said: “But, you’re a pain in my ass. And you pervert don’t look at me like that!”

She loved to be alone. She loved loneliness.

She last called me on her Birthday one year back from her home; she told that she would be moving to Glasgow soon. I waited her call on her this birthday; but I didn’t get any. I’m sure that she’d be brewing her own happiness in a place she is close to her two most likes – Scotch and Loneliness.

Happy B'day Mia. [ Sorry, that I couldn't post it on the same day. ]
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Have you lived the day?

A day smiles; a day cries. A day can be a beach carnival or a requiem in a grave. Amen. Someone is born. Someone is dead. A day is the whisper you hear in your ears, a flicker you see before your eyes until you don’t; a day is a breath you can’t hold dear. You can’t define your day, but you can certainly live up to. Live being you as far as you can, if there is a tomorrow you can say – Yesterday I lived the day!
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Monsoon is Greening Here!

The colour of Monsoon is green. When Monsoon invades with its lunatic wind and fierce supremacy all my senses get drenched, it conjures me to be in its magical delight till I see the blue sky once again. Until then my colour is green, my happiness is green, and my dreams illuminate in green. I get displaced from reality.

These days, other than the green slimy frogs which croak-sitting on the newly shaped red mud heaps-I see every image in green. I see the vegetation around me in never ever seen freshest green shades– may it be the creepers or the soul cleansed thick-wood trees which stand soaked; welcoming their sprouting infant leaves. Green is more greeny now…

I see green in its all exquisite splendour. I see newer greens in the grass, shrubs, and the moss. I see the fresh green in drenched guava leaves, mango trees and in the papaya orchards. I see the green a little more greener- similar to a green which you would probably imagine if I ask you to think of a virgin rain forest in a far off island not necessarily named after an emerald.

The relentless Monsoon always awakes my most surrealistic dreams in green. I saw a dream in which I was in a paddy field, which was a whimsical green expanse stretching far to a lake flowing by the side of a mountain- which made me impatient to explore my newly popped up desire to see the shade of green in my foreseen meadow of dreams across- seen in distance.

I saw a woman who had a familiar face, even though I couldn’t recognise who she was, as I instantly fall into a trance seeing her or might got trapped in her enchanting charm that let my vision go blurry. Yet I could feel she was young and beautiful as every man would dream to be with in a rainy night and beyond. 

She was draped in a green saree (I’m least surprised, as it is frequent in the fantasies of all Indian men). She was walking towards me, but not in the mandatory slow motion as it would require in a dream sequence of an Indian film. She was holding a large plantain leaf over her head; in the sky, clouds were shaping up behind her. She was nearing to me looking straight into my eyes to which I stood frozen skipping a beat or two of mine. What else you need to visualise a typical cuddled-cupid-couple-dance in rain, all set in the backdrop of green...  it’s Indian Greenery! (Shrugs)

This monsoon green is more greener! Green is the colour of longing.  Green is the colour of hope. Green is colour of the distance which separates me and my desires. The Green is once again pushing me to go behind my dreams – greenhuedreams! Green soothes me now above all caresses. It’s a wicked monsoon and it’s greening here!

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വീണ്ടും മഴയോടൊപ്പം...

വീണ്ടും മഴ.

മഴയോടൊപ്പം ഇന്നലെയും, ഇന്നും, നാളെയും...

ഇന്നലെ. 

മഴ തിമിര്‍ത് പെയുമ്പോഴും മഴയ്ക് ഒരു നിശബ്ധത ഉണ്ടായിരിന്നു. 

ഇടമുറിയാതെ പെയുന്ന മഴയുടെ ശ്രുതിയിലലിഞ്ഞു ഞാന്‍ പതിയെ വഴുതിവീഴുന്നത് പൂര്‍ണമായ നിശബ്ധതയിലെക്  ആയിരുന്നു.

ഇവിടെയും  തനിച്ചൊരിടം തരാതെ പ്രണയിനി, നീ തന്നെയായിരുന്നു എന്നും അരികില്‍.

അന്ന് നനവിന്റെ സുഖമുള്ള ഒരു കാറ്റ് നമ്മളെ ഒരുമിപിച്ചിരുന്നു.
നമ്മള്‍ മഴയില്‍ ലയിച്ചിരുന്നു.

ഇന്ന്.

മറവിയിലാണ്ടുപോയ  പ്രണയവും, പ്രണയാഭിനെശവും, 

നിന്നെ മാത്രം പുണരാന്‍ കൊതിച്ചചിരുന്ന  യൗവനവും, ചുംബനങ്ങളും, ഇന്നലെയുടെ താളുകളിലെക്യു തുന്നിചെര്‍ത്ത് തനിചോരിടത് ഞാന്‍ ഇരികുമ്പോള്‍, മഴ വീണ്ടും പെയ്തു.

മനസ്സില്‍ പെയ്ത മഴ എന്നെ കൂട്ടി  കൊണ്ട് പോയത് ആ പഴയ നിശബ്ധതയിലെക്  തന്നെയായിരുന്നു. അതെ  ഓര്‍മയുടെ പാതയോരത്, മഴയുടെ നനവ്‌ പറ്റി, നനഞ്ഞ മുടിയിഴകള്‍ നെറ്റിയില്‍പറ്റിച്ചു, അതെ നിര്‍വികാരമായ  നോട്ടവുമായി, എന്നിലെക്ക്  ആര്‍ത്തിരമ്പി പെയ്യാന്‍ വെമ്പുന്ന മഴകാലമായി  നീ വരുമെന്ന് എനിക്ക് ഉറപ്പായിരുന്നു.

നീ വന്നു...

നാളെ.

പ്രണയിനിയെയും, പ്രണയത്തെയും, തിരികെ തന്ന  മഴ തുടര്‍ന്നുകൊണ്ടേയിരിക്കും  എന്നും പ്രതീക്ഷിക്കുന്നു...
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(Based on today's morning dream.)

Would the Mariner reach his next Isle of Hope?

Would his dream foretell him his nearing long journey?

Would it let the Mariner toil for his first self made ship?

Would his desire help him build his ship faster than he thought?

Would it let the Mariner start his journey one day before he planned?

Would he cross the sea keeping his mind blank as ever?

Would it let the Mariner believe his woes are left behind?

Would his beliefs make his voyage a smooth affair?

Would it let the Mariner not fall prey to his languid loneliness?

Would his imaginations give birth to a Mermaid to accompany him?

Would it let the Mariner forget the gloom of his loneliness?

Would the Mermaid be his lucky Angel along?

Would it help the Mariner to ward off all sea perils?

Would all Sea-Dragons lose the fire in their mouth?

Would this help the Mariner stay unharmed in his voyage?

Would the night-sky don a deep sea-blue quilt?

Would it let the Mariner sleep safe in his boat?

Would the clouds form a long white floating roof?

Would it let the Mariner shield himself against the thumping thunder?

Would all stars blur its sheen expelling one for a reason of good?

Would it let the Mariner spot his right pole and move?

Would the tides shun the shape gaining moon?

Would it let the Mariner steer even with no shaky sways?

Would all Pirates slip into a momentary slumber?

Would it let the Mariner carry through the uninvited onslaught?

Would all winds be favourable until he dips his anchors next shore?

Would the Mariner finally have his smile?

Would he reach his next Isle of Hope any sooner?

Would the Mariner set foot on the shore in spite he will reach one day before he was expected? 

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Can, Can’t though!

I can write about rain.

I can write about sky.

I can write about a woman.

But I can’t write about all three of these together,

I’d once again fall in love.

I can’t read a thick book.
I can’t read what is beautiful, if there are many.

I can’t read women, even if there aren't many.

But I can read,

If the thick book is all about many beautiful women!

I can cry.

I can smile.

I can run.

But now I can’t cry or smile,

Both ran out!

I can’t be your opinion.

I can’t be what you love.

I can’t be your change.

But if you change your opinion,

I can be your love...

Can ….. dream?

Can ….. feel?

Can …...win?

Can’t ….. ?

(Fill in the blanks with I or You.)

Can, Can’t though!

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Sleepless Nights (2)

Fuelling my urge to catch a dream I still limp behind as a grasshopper which lost it’s identity among a clan of pride seeking self illuminating fireflies, I hope the night just get over!
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Sleepless Nights

Once I switch off the lights in my room I see thousands of crows all over my room. They illuminate in radium green. The unmoving crows begin to grow small! Growing small they become mosquito sized crows; soon they fly all over making a screeching sound much lower than the tick of my clock. They nest in my hair, they beak on my head. They kill my sleep. They turn me into an insomniac invisible crow fighter in the dark!
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Visibly Blind?

Blank- as a white paper would look.
White- immovable as frozen ice bergs would finally look.

Immovable as the day she told her consent - 'not you.'
Painful as the new day of love - 'would you?'

out of words.
out of mind.

out of all relations.

Blank. White.
or Visibly Blind?
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എന്റെ വലെന്റയ്ന്‍ 2011.

കായല്‍ കാറ്റ് ഏറ്റ് കരിമീന്‍ വറുത്തത് കഴിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ എങ്ങനെയോ കൊച്ചിയോടു ഒരു വല്ലാത്ത സ്നേഹം തോന്നും, ഇത്തിരി കുരുമുളക് പൊടി കൂടി ചേര്‍ക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ആ സ്നേഹം പോടുനനെ പ്രണയം ആയി മാറും. ;) കുരുമുളക് ചേര്‍ത്ത് കരിമീന്‍ ഉണ്ടാക്കാന്‍ ഒരു പ്രണയിനി വരും വരെ കൊച്ചി നീ എന്റെ വലെന്റയ്ന്‍! 

I miss the huge – tall tree.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

which once I thought would hit the clouds,

if it could hop a bit.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

which once glowed my face to the dreams of me, climbing to its brim; to  pluck the golden stars.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

in which once had a swarm of unknown night-birds, sung in harmony, to bring rains from far.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

on which once I thought, would build my house atop, only to see the moon a li’l closer.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

to which once I looked upon as a hope, to look beyond sky blue hues.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

which once gave me all the happiness I could have as a kid.

I miss the huge – tall tree,

to a huge-huge-tall-taller concrete rise; along with all my happiness, dreams and singing birds flew away.

I miss rain, I miss my shade, and I deeply miss the huge – tall tree.
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Helplessness. Loneliness. Impertinence.

My helplessness becomes my evergreen shade to me.

The sand through I walk becomes my only soothe to live.

The faint light of the night becomes my narrow hope to next day.

The slim crescent becomes the modish soothsayer.

My loneliness becomes my untried meditation.

The dry leaves falling to my room becomes my unsung requiem of friendship.

The wind that seeps through my broken window becomes my lady for the day.

The musty room I laze becomes my dishevelled castle of dreams.

My impertinence to bright world outside is the contempt of my forefathers.

The quaint smile which I bore is my act of shrewd discretion.

The impatience makes me a half done man.

The arrogance reduces me to a filthy ash in a tray.

Helplessness. Loneliness. Impertinence.

The threesome is taking me for a wild unexperienced stroll.

Do you have the ticket?

We often keep dreams. We love to see ourselves in a better position than we are now. We live hoping that one day we will be fine; may be the finest among the group around us. At times, we all are the same. But have you ever bought the ticket to win your dreams? wondered?

There is an old joke in Italy, It goes like this - There was a poor man who always prayed in  front of the saint to win him a lottery. Everyday he did this in front of the huge marble structure. One day the exasperated saint appeared before the man and said: “Look man, I’ll make you win the lottery, but first you buy a ticket!” The saint disappeared.

Aren’t we all awaiting our luck with no amount of effort being put into actualisation of our dreams? Aren’t we all the same? Just give a thought.
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( 'Ticket story' taken from the movie, 'EAT. PRAY.LOVE'.)