kuzhoor

I'm waiting for her under that tree

2011-11-22T21:30:00.000-08:00

this tree would grow big
and bear fruits

crows would come
honeybees,
ants, centipedes and all

then the wind, rain
and sunshine would come

savour the taste,
in one way or another

the tree would grow again

when the branches
grow beyond their reach
children would leave the tree

then comes the contractor,
and the chopper and carpenter
arrive in their turn

when the chisel touches
the same branch, where
the crow used to sit,
there arises a sound, cawing

hearing the sound
the remaining children
would fly away sturned

when the nail pierces
its windblown shoulder
there 'll be an eerie silence

desolate like the midday
of friday without anyone
going to the church

gradually it becomes the door
and enters inside
and sits as a chair,
then lay down-
as a cot, tired

I am waiting for her
under that tree

(translated by Rajendran Cherupolika)

Word

2011-10-17T06:02:00.000-07:00

I did not run
to buy a cigarette
I went in search of a word
which was more meaningful than life.

In a hurry
my leg was injured ,
a finger got cut,
and I got a word

Translation : Dr. Santosh Alex

NO SMOKING

2009-05-15T01:04:00.000-07:00

1

Doctor warned, “Your liver will strangle –
If you do not stop this habit”.
“That flower fell off long ago”
I responded.

“I might lose you if you hang on with this habit”
Gracy says.
“I already lost myself” I declared.

Next turn was my friend who is a story writer.
“I can’t see you as a character who smokes”
“You better do not have this protagonist in your tale”
I affirmed.

She whispered, “Your lips have become black”
I announced, “Not even a kiss with fag smell is available”

“Why are you deteriorating yourself” inquiry from Jinu.
“Just because, I don’t know how to spoil others”. My answer.

“K S R T C buses which arrived late taught me smoking”
A stranger said.
“I lighted a cigarette for the initial time, just for some light”.
My response with realization.

“They shout that you are a chain smoker”
My sister’s version.
“There will be no smoke without fire”
My variation.

A board in the hospital was engraved.
“No smoking here”.
“Everything else is allowed?
I asked.

“God will not pardon suicidal behavior”.
That was from Parish Priest.
I could say this much.
“Clouds are created from God’s cigar”

2

In this night filled with solitude,
God, let me have a fag which has soul and
Let me reach out to clouds.

Translation : Aju Abraham
ajabraha@gmail.com

Dance

2009-02-17T00:53:00.000-08:00

(painting: Pablo picasso)

When Arab adolescence strikes football

In the fenced ground of the Corniche Park

A Sudanese guy who sits on the nearby stone bench

Feels the thrill on his legs

For the one who knows to strike a goal

The biggest hunger is to strike the ball

And me? I don't' have a name

When the fisherman swims away

Loosing his boat and net in the flood

And faces a group of huge sharks

He gets a chill on his spine

When one of the cutest babies

Among the nursery kids cries loudly

Milk oozes from the nun's breast

The swimmer

Crawls on a camel

In the desert

I don't want anything else

Only the ball and opponents

Let thousands or millions come

Let the goal post be miles away

I don't want anything else

Once, on the tenth floor

While carrying the cement bag

One moment, just for a moment,

The sun tempted like a big ball

While surging ahead with the ball

In the sky ground

The blow came unexpected

Its mark is still on the back

There are balls, which can be tackled by anybody

No, not all the movements forward

End up in goals

And there are no games without fouls

Even in dreams

In the ground in front now

No Arab children are left

Only ball, ball, ball

It moves on its own

This side and that side

Runs out of the ground

Surges to the goal post

Sometimes hides somewhere

In pure solitude

And very secretly

The ball looks at me and smiles

A throb of the destiny

On the fingers of the legs

When the ground became

Empty of balls and legs

Two legs began to dance

Between the evening and night

Translation:: Ismail Meladi
ismail.meladi@gmail.com
http://ismailmeladi.blogspot.com/

Didn't even keep on the groud

2007-11-30T22:23:00.000-08:00

The forgotten Umbrella
grew anxious.

Did he get wet?
Wept, not seeing me?
Got beaten by mother?

BEnches and Desks
Still whispers.

"Thara" "Para" " Pana"
The Blackboard is till in daylight.

Darkness descended

Umbrella felt like crying

Rain Rain
Umbrella Umbrella
The rain outside went on uttering.

"My darling umbrella"
His voice raining
over the rain
Only the umbrella could capture.

Wept and wept
the umbrella slept.
The cabin of headmaster appeared in a dream

Question parers, cane rods, Maps, Globe
Skeleton
Choke dust
Bulky lady teachers
Farts and flops.

Startled, Got up once
No, not yet the day.

What is seen was just his name
sew in the dark.

Oh! how could he forget!

Then came other umbrellas
They sat here and there.

Didn't he get wet the passed day?
Didn't you reach home?
How's it to be said
That he forgot me!!

Oh listen, that's him.
The umbrella shut all eyes hard
Wait till he comes closer
Wait till he wrap me with hundred kisses.

The bell rang,he didnt arrive.

When the eyes are wide opened
it was seen
His new darling umbrella.

Didn't even keep on the groud.

Translation:: sreejitha p v
sreejitha.pv@gmail.com

City of death, City of life

2007-11-21T18:15:00.000-08:00

In the life beyond this,
We met in a forsaken corner
Of a street in Kabul;
Kabul, the capital of Afghan.
Behind us, a t-shirt passed by;
On it was written thus:
"Two warring clans
In the fore-life
Are born lovers in the next".

It dawned upon me then,
That your piercing stare was
The left-over of the
Six shots of Cindery vengeance
And hatred you emptied
On me, the life before.

And you kept blaming
That my words seep the
Eerie delight of mincing
A body, dead long back.

Still then,
You offered me pop-corns
Sold on the sidewalk,
You wanted to know
Why I sighed,

I don't know why.

You wanted to know
How we parted...or,
Was it "why we parted"?

I don't know.

First, It was when the candle flamed
Too high when lit;
Once, it was over a phone bell
That broke a deep kiss;
And then,
Over a stain on my shirt
That you dreamed up,

And then …
…
…
For questioning;
At times, for not questioning;
For calling;
Sometimes, for not calling;
For eating, and for not eating;

Over a sigh,
Over a laughter,
O'er a whine,
O'er a prayer for the kin
O'er a letter sent,
And the ones never sent.
And even, for
Shitting without permission!
We both may have died
About the same time,
I am sure.
If not,
My worries weren't about
Who would look after you;
They were all about
'Who all will be after you'

We did kill each other.
Or may be it was
A divine intervention;
Yes, He who reduces to rubble,
Even the sturdiest of erections…
Queer ain't He ?

And now, we are here -
The ones who slaughtered
One another in love –
Here in the city of Kabul
Kabul , the capital of Afghan.

I took my next puff
When you marveled
The city's splendour.

There goes another t-shirt;
It bore, "I ain't yet been born"

And then
It came to me:
Those Two lines you mumbled
At 5.41on a Thursday evening,
Four days before Christmas,
In the life bygone…

At that fond remembrance, I grinned
Without a word.
And you gave me a kiss!

Translation: Suraj Rajan

http://darwinsarmy.wordpress.com/

O' body, O' thy soul…

2007-10-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

O' body, O' dear body...
It's the mackerel you gobbled up yesterday.
Why else does this cat circle you
The third time again.

Silence! O' gut.
Keep thy waves down for a while
At least until the
Cat's wide gaze passes by.

O' body, O' dear body...
Be careful at the beach.
You are in their home land;
What if all those fish inside you
Rush up to the sea.

What if their friends try
Knocking at the doors of
Each of your cells.

O' body, O' dear corpse...
What if you finally come back
To the shore with a thousand fish-kiss.

O' body, O' dear body...
What if
Everything you savoured,
Everything you devoured,
Came to life before you, in a flash.

O' body, O' dear body...
What if you let
Your thirty-year-old breast milk
At the first sight of baby.

Or may be, the bread
And the roast meat
Came up in search of those tiny lips.

O' body, O' dear body...
What if those tender breasts
Show up to bedazzle
A sunny noon at the dearest city
And what if the dank aroma
Makes you 'spill' all over again.

O' body, O' dear body...
What if the cattle inside
Come out to graze
At the sight of the meadow

What if that cockerel
Jumps out into the courtyard
At the sight of his hen

And the frogs inside
Start croaking at every downpour.
And the birds that settled in you
Yearn for the skies

O' body, O' dear body,
All those fish, birds and beasts,
Leaping out of thee.
O' body, O' thy soul… -

Translation: Suraj Rajan
http://darwinsarmy.wordpress.com/

Dont know me

2007-02-05T23:24:00.000-08:00

He doesn't know meI don't know him either

Between us there is a lake.That is full of fishes.Those fishes are neither his nor mine.Those fishes are not oursAnd that's the relationship between us

In that lake lies the fallen sky
I see the fishes submerged amongThe valleys of clouds in that skyThe fishes flicker those clouds… a little.
Can there be some fishes unafraid of the birds?To know that you must peek into the lake

Does he see all these, I think
And does he read my thoughts?
I can never imagine what he sees in the lake
Or did he ever try seeing?
Oh... let him think whatever he wishes.
There is a cigarette in his hand; and in mine too.
That is another of our bonding
We both have cigarettes

I think the smoke from my cigarettes and the clouds are friendly.That's why I am sad about the dead clouds in the lake.
He doesn't think that way; his face is a give-away
He doesn't seem worried… about anything
He may be bored; maybe, that's why he smokes

He is darker than me.Hmm…that too is a bonding
But he doesn't know thatI am fair… I pretend to be dark

May be, he was fair too
And got tanned when his mother forgot him
Or maybe, he is simply that – dark

The Sky..The Lake of fallen clouds..Smoke circles that befriend the clouds
And I, the fair one!

trans : Rajeev Nair,
archienair@gmail.com
http://www.rajeevsnair.blogspot.com/

Dont know me

2007-02-05T12:56:00.000-08:00

He don’t know me
I don’t know him too

Between us there is a lake.
And it is full of fishes.
Those fishes are neither his nor mine.
Those fishes are not ours
That’s what, the relation between us is.

In that lake, sky was lying fallen.
I can see the fishes submerging among
the valleys of clouds in that sky
It was fishes who flickering those clouds a little.
Are there any fishes not scared of birds?
For that you have to look into the lake.

My thoughts are now about, whether he see all these.
and whether he know my thoughts too.
I could never imagine what he has seen in the lake,
or did he get time to do that too.

Oh... let him think whatever he likes.
There is a cigarette in his hand; mine too.

Another relation between us is that we both have cigarettes.
My thought was that, smokes from my cigarettes and clouds are friendly.
That’s why I am sad about the dead clouds in the lake.

His wasn’t thinking that way, his face clearly shows that.
It looks like he is not worried about anything.
It may be bored, that’s why he is smoking.

He is darker than me.
That too a relation is.
But he doesn’t know that
I am fair and pretending dark

May be, he was too a fair one;
and got darkened when his mother forgotten him.
Might not be, he is dark only.

Sky..
Lake of fallen clouds..
Smoke circles who are roaming around, friendly with cloud’s.
Me, the non-darkened

trans : Able Kuriakose, ablekk@gmail.com
http://ormakkaayi.blogspot.com/

The Farmer

2007-01-17T01:31:00.000-08:00

Bought two Chiquitas
While returning from the
morning walk.

And while eating them, drew,
in imagination, the picture of the farmer
who cultivated them.

Where would he be - the
farmerwho produced these two
bananas?

Would he be sleeping now?
Or working at the farm?
Or would he be no more by
now?

When I thought of a farmer
somewhere,
I was also forced to think of
my father,
who was a farmer.

Sad, it needed a banana
To make this strayed seed
to think of his farmer.

trans : rammohan paliyathu