Friday, March 25, 2011

Happiness

Happiness

I was riding my scooter
on the roads of my city
I saw a family on a scooter
a child in front another sandwiched
between his mother and a carom board
I was touched by what I saw
a twang of joy in my heart
There will be joy in their home
when they play on the carom board
Small small joys are what makes life
all you have to do is look around
Lots of us wait for the big one
Life slips by joyless waiting
The big one never arrives
Joy is everywhere
it is for you to pick it up
Enrich your life with these
Little ones
For me joyful laughter
of a little one is worth
all the gold in Fort Knox


K.V.Radhakrishnan

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

The Jasmine Girl

The Jasmine Girl

She stood selling Jasmine flowers
at the turn near a bridge
She would call out
to the slowing cars
waving the Jasmine strings
Long skirt with a faded top
hair pulled back
in a tight pleat
Few strands of curls
dancing to the breeze
Large eyes sharp nose
prominent cheek bones
pouting lips
May be
she was a Jasmine girl
I used to seen her
driving past the bridge
My heart would race
nearing the bridge
I would steal few glances
eyes locking for a few seconds
A smile playing on her lips
One day I stopped the car
she walked down to my car
pushed her hand in with jasmine strings
I took the floral strings fingers brushing hers
My heart flip flopped like never before
Her exotic face said a hundred things to me
Next the next and the next day like this
many days passed she was not there
Couple days latter I stopped
near the bridge I brought a few bananas
wrapped in a piece of news paper
Home I unwrapped the bundle
the news print had her photo
with a paragraph underneath
The language unknown to me
ran to my neighbour
A wayward bus ran her down
was the story it told
Every thing stilled in me
The exotic face smiles at me beckoning
The Jasmine girl is gone
Leaving me behind
You never needed the Jasmine
Celestial Jasmine is better than ours
I know for sure
You love her more than me

K.V.Radhakrishnan



Friday, March 18, 2011

The Unfinished Bridge

The Unfinished Bridge


She stormed into my presence
like a stray storm
My mind pulled her in
smoothed the storm within
But…
She was on the other bank
I on this side
deep turbulent waters in between
Now….
We are building a bridge
I more she less
Her bank recedes
keeping the distance same
Will we be together ever
with the bridge unfinished?
Perhaps…
It is to be like this
I am the setting sun
she a beautiful dawn
the twain shall never meet…

Epilogue
Evening waits for the dawn
walks her into the night
straitens all the tangles
removes all the pain
Rested thus- dawn is ready
to shine the next morrow
Every one loves the dawn
no one wants the evening
Yet…
Evening always waits for
the dawn- to continue
the cosmic cycle…

K.V. Radhakrishnan

Friday, March 11, 2011

Primodial Life

Primordial Life

I am in my garden
pre dawn
Feel of dew on my foot
and palm
Butterfly flutter past
her breath fragrant
Had stolen pollen
from a wild plant
She winked at me
on her way to
cross pollination
A little Humming bird
wings invisible
hangs in time and space
Little squirrel on the tree
wags its tail left right right left
up down down up
Folded hands nostrils quivering
The little beetle
armour of colours
Waves its antennae
calling  its mate
Life so primordial
I want to roll over
Over and over the grass
Sky clad
I want to be the turgid leaf
ready to receive the first photons
Life so primordial
Me primordial


K.V. Radhakrishnan

Clouds


CLOUDS


I was lying flat
on my back
on the wet sand
Looking into the
deep blue sky
Cloud forming shapeless
shadows on my body
Clouds above changing 
a hundred shapes
Shapes dissolving and reforming
I got up and walked
wet sand making squeaking sounds under my feet
my inner conflict itched sharp
solution was there to grasp
It is all about dissolving and reforming

K.V.Radhakrishnan

Thursday, March 10, 2011

The Umbrella Man

The Umbrella Man

Sankracharya is the high priest
Mel shanti (high priest) is what they call him
Gets up in Bhramamuhurta
After his morning ablutions
He has his ritual bath at the open well
His elder son Pranescharya follows suit
For his upanainam is over
Sankracharya walks to the temple
Pranesharya yards behind
Mel shanti enters the temple
Moves to the temple well
Draws a pot of water
Pours over his head
Whispering ohm namashivayas
He now enters the sanctum sanctorum
Readies himself for the morning pooja
Other priests have arrived
Following the same ritual
They set up all that is needed for the pooja
The sacred conch is sounded
Morning pooja begins
Pranescharya just out side the sanctum
A motley crowd of devotees with folded hands
Eyes closed lost in prayer
Old Madhavan wants a job for his son
Young Kalyani wants a husband me lord
Pooja over
Teertha, sandalwood paste and flowers are given
Devotees accept with reverence
It is time for sheveli
High priest comes out of the sanctorum
A brass container with soaked rice and flowers
He sprinkles rice and flowers on the navagrahas
Utters the correct mantras
Following him is Apuukuttan warrier
Replica of the God over his head
Behind him is Balan warrier
The Umbrella man
Preceding all is the Nadaswaram man and the Chandai man
The procession now circles
The outer perimeter of the temple
Balan the umbrella man pours his heart out
Woes and woes
Apuukuttan with lord over his head just listens
God listens to all this
Sitting over Appukuttan’s head
God smiles knows
There is no umbrella over his head
There are as many umbrella men
As there are umbrellas
Of different shapes hues
As many gods of different names
Listening to the woes of Umbrella men
God listens and listens
Does all that is good to
The umbrella man and his tribe
Thank you umbrella man


K.V. Radhakrishnan
  




     


 
 

 





Friday, March 4, 2011

Alzheimer

Alzheimer

Darkness squeezing him in
Dawn has left his zone
Memory failing one by one
Faces are blank no identity attached
Some names float by
Flotsam in the ocean
I stand in front of him
Looking at his angelic face
A flicker of recognition moves across
Mone (son) he says extending his hand
Events fleet around
Temporally not connecting
Wants to hold on to memory
Indira Gandhi is his PM yet
A man whose thoughts stirred
Statesmen to writers of recon
Memories slipping away like an eel
Juxtaposing into one another
Rolling into a cauldron of desperation
His face reflects unknown agony
Inner core crying out
Love failing, meaningless utterances
His favorite dish in his plate
A microscopic smile on his face
Or was I imagining it 
Touch, taste and smell mean nothing
No associations, triggers no feelings
Hemispheres parting
Neurons snapping with a miniscule of light
Billions of flickers ushering in the darkness
His wife was the connectivity
The last shred to reality
Bave was what he called her
With more neurons snapping
Bave was lost to him
Hemispheres parted
With last of the neurons snapping
He slipped away in his sleep
Alzheimer claimed greatest of thinkers
I have ever known

K.V. Radhakrishnan