where nature is a malayali girl .

come to kerala
for the rain festival.

pack an umbrella
and rubber footwear
your cotton shorts
book your ringside seats
in my balcony
i will organise
beachchairs
lemon tea
feed you roasted groundnuts
thin gruel with cooked lenthil
with grated coconut

if you impress the mother in law
she will fix you
tapioca and red fish curry
and i can smuggle in some
authentic local toddy
inside cola cans.
while we watch the coconuts-tree-dance
"possessed" with the all the devils
of the monsoon winds.

those of you
who like adventure tourism
can stay for the evening
thunderstorm and pshychedilic lightning
the scared ones can keep my daughter
and our little dog company downstairs
where Daddy can give you updates on
the current dirty political game

watch the rain with me
come huddle
say nothing
dont move
watch the blessed rain
and let the wicked sores
of summer heal


when was the last time
you admired a perfect puddle?
the garden hibiscus , the mango tree
the azure sky, the shivering crow
thrown into a magical mirror
fallen from the sky, unbroken still.

listen to the rush of rainwater
hurrying by the roadside
paper boats, twigs, dry leaves
all of the summer's sweat
this music of flowing water
soothing cool music
will play on far into the night

and you can sleep in the children's room
all four windows open
fanned to sleep
by rain angels.
you will drink
sweet monsoon night air
in your sleep and i promise you
you will dream of rainbows.

if you wake up early enough
we can go for a morning stroll
listen to the dripping sound
of rain slipping off my garden plants.
its rain festival in kerala .
and nature is this malayali girl
with jasmine buds on her wet mangled tresses.

my daughter sitting
On my shoulder
munching hot groundnuts
from a newspaper cone
I walked the temple grounds.

“trissur pooram”
a haze of colours
a symphony
so perfect
laid out for gods
gods craved from granite
some from gold.

The sun lost his luster
To the ornamented elephants
29 docile beasts.
Mammoths make me a little edgy
but then this music
infectious rhythm of the drums
That played a tune some centuries old,
The crowd was of the earth
No sophisticated airs
And it was so easy to join in
Point out the which one was “Ramasway”
And “Vasu”,
we beat invisible drums
Roared when the krishan Umbrellas were hoisted
Our hearts Washed by the music
Made pure by worship


The music was so heavenly
The golden haze reflected from the
Elephants’ ornaments magical
The pooram lovers so simple
It was enough I guess to melt
The granite and golden hearts of idol gods
I came away my heart melting
Like the sea
With waves
And a rainbow.

I don’t know when I breathe my last
But I pray.play me these drums then
And let me die with smell of the pooram grounds
Let me die with thoughts of God
And simple people, sweet music and
And an evening sky full of colourful umbrellas.

this april

dear stephen hawkings,

this april or is it june
i hear you are going to space.
uncrumple , sir
without your wheelchair
and float

know weightlessness for me
this earth is grown too heavy
so stay away awhile
like a jecko cling on the walls
of your spaceship

while washing the dishes
i leave the windows open
to gaze up at the stars
and i think of you floating free
somewhere among the stars

i wish i could come too
oh just for a week.
help around with some chores
dust the hubble maybe
hold your hand for space walk

spacecrafts have glass roof, dont they?
drifting off to sleep huddled by galaxies
seems perfect for a holiday.
we could watch the earth from afar
they say she's beautiful from out there

you without your wheelchair
me of deliquent mind
off on a holiday
with stars and floating
and weightless thoughts.

sleep well, grandfather.

we were all there
at St Mary's yesterday
to remember you
its been seven years
of living without you.

at st mary's i can
never pray.
instead i stand and stare
at the domed ceiling
and see if the painted stars are still intact

the sunlight through the stained glass
the gold engraved scupltures at the altar
Fresco of heaven on the right
towering above the choir
Gabriel with the flaming sword , cherubs at his feet

black bulls
satan and his darkness
contours of sin
fire and the twelve winged lucifer
all spliced together on my left

i muse over Seraphs
hierarchies of angels
the softness of the cloulds on the wall
strain to trace the "M" on the last supper
run my fingers over the lifelike grapes on vines

and at your grave we lighted small candles
lay flowers from our garden on your tombstone.
i wonder if you made it to heaven past Gabriel?
are you an angel in white dhoti?
do you teach history and author grammar texts still?

a few old students ,2 classmates from MCC
your brother and his family
your son and daughter,all your grandchildren
your immediate nieghbours.
a measly crowd.

we stood awhile head bowed .
as we left your side,all of us crying.
even your son in law.
its been only seven years
another seventy and yet we will feel your loss.

heavens may exist only on frescos
painted inside church walls.
its a long reach anyway, this heaven.
Appachan, for now its enough that we are all here today.
sleep well.

another morbid birthday poem

death whispers, i am no stranger to that.
when leaves fall from my garden plants
unsung death.

when raindrops innocently meet the ground
rain dies.
every sunset.death smiles softly.

i know its death
but then its only whispers.
but lately death has started shouting.
today morning at the wheel
death shouted at me

and yesterday
while cutting leftover meat for my dog,
unfortunate blood.

and iam scared
at night
as i watched my kids
drifting off to sleep

it was a funeral night
i dreamt loved ones
being lowered to the ground eyes shut
death claiming them
forever.

death licks at my feet
for now
i ignore them

morbid birthday thoughts about death

to die
is when life melts into colours
and then you will find me in the first monsoon rain
for i will be the dewdrop an youngster finds
amid the fresh green grass

might be if i have luck enough
i will be the blue
of the summer sky
and i'll be the black of a moonless night
that makes the stars seem brighter still.