Blink. I can see.

Unable to leave my glade in the greens, I stand aloof thinking about the disappeared blue butterflies. Coiled and recoiled inside a silky cocoon-learning to shrink before my birth– I lived as the tiniest of moth which never learned to fly. Before night sparkling blue butterflies had vanished to nowhere– flapping and rambling- they always flown around me. They gave me the first note of catharsis hymn or a melody of purification which still cleanses my languid self in the path searching deep repose and love.  I had seen them as blotches of twirling blue - flickering in accordance - spangled over the dark veil of night. They taught me to see beyond existence, to connive love, to switch life between real and surreal.  They taught me to see being blank and to listen being oblivious. To tread the way blue butterflies had vanished, I know, I really don’t want to venture out anywhere. But soon, I’ll leave my glade. I know they’ve bloomed as blue roses where my lady moth lives. Blink. I can see.
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Circles

Circles all around.
Circles made of clouds.
Hallows and silver streaks illuminate its wavy circumference.
Amorphous and shaky until yesterday, dreams too turned into blazing red circles– today they rained red.
Circles of confusion.
Circles of oneness.
Circles of love.
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അറ്റം.

ബിയറോഴിച് വളര്‍ത്തിയ കരള്‍വാടി ചെടിയുടെ വേരിന്‍റെ ഒരറ്റം എന്‍റെ പ്രണയം. കിലുങ്ങി-ചിരിച് കണ്ണിമാ-വാടിയ മെലിഞ്ഞ പെണ്ണിന്‍റെ മൌനം തൊട്ടു നില്‍കുന്ന ചുണ്ടില്‍ വീണു കിടക്കുന്ന അവളുടെ മുടിയുടെ അറ്റം, മറ്റൊരറ്റം ;-)
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Being a Wheel.

To constantly whine and wail.
To take all wallops.
To be driven by an unknown.
To be helpless.
To wobble.
To grunt all the way I tread.
I don't want to be a wheel.
But, sadly I'm one.

Being a wheel, I want to roll back to the dark cave.
To see the cave man who cut out a piece of round wood and rolled, far before Civilizations grew or Gods born.
To be along with my forefathers who pedalled the giant wheel of irrigation and self humiliation to feed Royal paunches; to see the tiny bubbles of sweat - in which thousands of tiny suns shone- they wiped out of their forehead, working under the blazing summer sun.
To tell my forefathers - We are still slaves of rich and I have waned to a rubber wheel reined by some.

To see a world I would never have been.
To beetle off all repugnant penance. (Done to me. Can I ?)
To leave my skin-marks on the roughest of turfs.
To finally deflate myself before thrown out of the hub.
To be the fuel to a rebellious fire.
I want to be a wheel.
Sadly, unambiguously, I'm one. 

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Center of the world.

Aren't we all struggling to be in the center of the world? Aren't you? I believe the dingy room in which I live - with all my flabbergast-ions and suffocating bewilderment s' - as the center of the world. I believe, it's the place from where every boundaries begin or historic wars and civilizations have had begun. It's the place from where poles are given its latitude; clumsy complex networks of road-rail-sea routes begin. It's from my room, the great Travelers, Mariners and Explorers started their voyage. But you constantly argue it all began from yours. We fight. We Argue. Yet we all know: center is everywhere; we live fighting to own -- the center of the world! We all are striving hard to find the center of our-own-self-drawn equators. Aren't we?

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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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