Category Archives: Poem

चाय और चर्चा

सूनी सी
इन शब्दों में
क्या बात कर पाऊँगी मैं

जब सोच ही है
समज के परे
कैसे कर पाऊँगी मैं
इन सुनी सी शब्दों में
अपनी दिल कि बात

और फिर
कह भी दूँ तो,दोस्त
तुम समज न पाओगे
मन कि गहराईयों को
किसने नापा है अब तक

छोड़ दो, चलो, चाय तो पी लो

Earth woman

Being born of the skies

raised by the earth

fragranced by the winds

pregnant with monsoon raindrops

hued bright by blossoms

she refused

to be a mere signboard

weather beaten, broken, twisted and torn

holding up signs to

others dreams and dwellings

their maps, their routes

some non existent

some inconsequential

some too contrived to be real

some too small for her

she preferred to instead

leave sign posts

for others to find

‘catch me’, she said

‘if you can

love me ,if you can

just as I am

else forget me forever’.

Thus, she spake, the woman of earth.


I hid a butterfly in my heart

at times it flew apart

dancing in the shadows

when mostly my limbs lay fallow

the doctor turned an angry face

eyebrows lifted glasses low

she glowered

what took you so long?

I smiled a little tinge

hiding under the table

I murmured ‘just like that’

what? she thundered

look at you

and such nonsense

I looked at myself

saw a grey hair and a dimple

I laughed

this time much annoyed

she tore a sheet off the book

searched for boxes

ticked everything red

go get these tests done

she said angrily

come again

two days after

bring to me the reports

damn you woman

have these 5 tablets

will keep you in check

then I shall give you more

that should really teach you something

oh! I said

weary of the list

thank you

woman in white

I will never see you again!

Then the Mom doc called

to prescribe-

Hot water daily

oil bath everyday

some sun bright and strong

a walk

a few smiles

some rasam

no skipping work

or I might just spank you

ok, start with some chavanyaprasam

and kada, don’t forget that

turmeric milk in the night

You are fine, girl!

And that was that.

sky bits

a bit of a sky

sits in my heart

deep in the folds

beneath the aorta

she giggles and smiles

sending waves of joy

rippling through my veins

the finger tips then dance

to a song of its own

a lilt in the walk

a skip and a jump

of a box here

a mound there

a wink

a bounce

a rip roaring laughter

then silence

in the evenings

she dances with me

lulls me to sleep

hugs me sweet

we read a bit

& listen to

Farukh Balsara

his athletic frame

charming face

life is good

in silence deep

just that.

Songs and spirit

I hear your songs

those new ones too

even those you are yet to sing

yeah, I know them all

songs that singe

a private hurt very publicly

songs that pretend

a blue world in grey

songs that dance a dirge in rain

songs that seek what is not there

in the backyard of tangled memories.

I never stopped hearing you

your songs reach me every time

I hear them in sleep

they dance in my dreams

some times they howl

and you would be surprised of the noise

they make, songs and noise

an anomaly, right

but dissonance is important

so I read

to make sense

or who would know

what is a song and what is not

but then I thought where’s the passion

in your songs, ‘what’s the point?’ you said

where is your hurt? ‘what’s the point’, you laughed

where is your anger?’ anger, never, no point’,

you rummaged the soggy papers on the dining table

as if searching for lyrics lost

I should lose myself I thought

but again, ‘what’s the point?’

so I just sat down again.

Sky, Silence and me


I said

and the sky was shy

but so was I

yet he came

fitting his formlessness

into the window frame

he wriggled in

picking up the coffee mug

he nodded

‘you are a busybody.

I have been around

for long enough

You never noticed’

I looked down

guilt and shame

writ large

He smiled gently

‘Stay with me,

in the business of living

don’t forget to live’

the aroma of coffee

filled our nostrils

and we sat with silence

Sky ,Silence, Sreelekha.

Outside In

The outside




so breeze

so light

sometimes it could flutter away

the inside though

is a story all together


dark rivulets run into one another

narrow crooked paths in disarray

streaming love, despair and yearning

seeking love, despair and yearning

the walls convulse in pain

then the outside



naughty eyes

words many

myriad meanings

in living from

this to that

what is left

what prevails

what is achieved

a modicum of experiences

sometimes even untrue

fantasy like

yet live. breathe. live.

Just sign



he returned to books

words swam into beauties

in front of his eyes

he inhaled perfumes far off

tasted liquor ethereal

soft wafts pressed against

his sensual form

diving deep into an ocean

of unknown inhabitants

he said, hi, hello to many

wide-eyed, thrilled

treasuring his time

in the unknown

he watched as

exclamation marched

in great excitement

the comma tried to sleep

the full stop at rest

he peeped at the backside

of a parenthesis and was surprised

to see the colon hiding

semi-colon on her death bed

curving seductively

he stopped to breathe

some life

into her heart

he moved heavy sentences

to find surprising power

in phrases, in words

until he lost

it all in signs .

Kanjiyyum puzzhukkum

Rice porridge with red rice, a nice coconut chammandi and some pulses cooked lightly with no masala, makes good food. So when you add some kondattam to it, well then it is a feast.

When advertorials present happy families crunching on packets of cereals, coated with sugar and chocolate and feeling so healthy and abundant, you are sometimes misled to believe that it is what is good food and good living is all about.

Packets of food lining up the kitchen cupboard, where all you need to do is to pour in to your bowl and consume it, children, adults and everybody else. And that is healthy living! Really!

What a cheat story that is?

My daughter asks me some times, ‘so all that bournvita that I drank, it was nothing but mere sugar, is it?’.

I don’t have an answer because as a young mom, ambitious for her kid, I had often coaxed her to have her bournvita, in the belief, then all will be well!

So I thought, or because every body seems to be doing the same, so I just followed it.

But readymade food has not found much space in my kitchen maybe because the weekly dosa batter, the alternate uppmas or the delicious piniyarams, or the many parathas, had still not given up their pride of the place on the breakfast table.

That helped hugely, I like to think.

Good food is simple, it is difficult to get that, like good life, which is better, the more simple it is….

Or maybe a good dress.

It is just that we get lost in labels and perceptions and appearances and find fun in sophistication or what is masqueraded as elite!

Strange that life principles are so fundamentally simple, yet we get lost in the maze of life, so many of us.. perhaps that is living.

Look at the skies

watch the butterflies

know the cries of the birds

the dance of the clouds

know mostly your body

and how it speaks to you

listen to your heart

her soft whisperings

her murmurs

and her many dreams

go walking by the long road

biking in the country side

sit down by the waters

listen to the ripples

the swish and swoosh

of the breeze

the trance of the trees

the search of the roots

light begins in your eyes.

Simplicity in attire: set mundu from Kerala, in pic, amma and valliamma Pic courtesy: achan