Centipede and me

The Centipede and Me

I was to go to the Temple

I took my scooter out

A large centipede crossed my path

I ran my scooter over it

Time and again

Centipede lay dead on the floor

Few limbs still twitching

I was aghast and shocked

What a deed out of character

Was it inner fear or loathe

I had no answer

I reached the temple

Folded hand I stood

A silent prayer to the God

Few droplets of tears

Escaped my eyes

Speeding back home

It all dawned on me

I always speed on the highway

On my way to the college

One day the monster bus

Would hit

My soul hovering over

My likeness pasted on

The road

Litter finger still twitching

I have joined you my lord

Thank you

After all it was poetic Justice

K.V. Radhakrishnan

The Little Child

The little Child

He was all of his five years

inquisitive like a cat

Why crow is black

when dove is white

Why can’t he fly

when birds fly

Fly is what he wanted

flapping hands

went round and round

He was here he was there

he was everywhere

Balagopal of the yore

Sundays were his special day

Shaktiman came to his drawing room

little fellow’s world changed

became part of the episode

Through the TV screen

reality merged with unreality

Somewhere in that little brain

Shaktiman real and powerful

That Sunday evening

he went to the terrace

four floors above the ground

In time and space for a few seconds

reality merged with unreality again

He saw Shaktiman by his side

flapped his wings and took the leap

A thud and inert lay Balgopal of the yore

Oh good lord

why you play this game

muddle up that little brain…..

K.V.Radhakrishnan

Rag pickers

He and sister lived on a ledge

under the culvert

His hair all matted

face a mask of grime

His sister had large eyes

a demure of nonchalance

Two big sacs were the only possession

a couple of dogs kept them company

Before daybreak they walked to the bin

their favorite one near the hotel

Here they scourged

for breakfast lunch and dinner

Rotten tomatoes

and leftovers of the night after the rats feast

They swallow what they can

they fill the bags plastic bags and bottles

A large swanky sedan

breaks near the bin

Passenger seat glass goes down

a bejeweled manicured hand flicks a plastic bag

The boy’s hand shoots out catches the bag

a catch as good as any great slip catch

He opens the bag with fervor was a white spongy thing

 gives it a little squeeze hand slimy and red

 wipes his hand on his shirt front

Bewilderment writ large on his face for a fleeting second

 tosses the thing off moves off to the next bin sister in tow

Two years latter

The girl lay dead in the culvert

defiled and killed

Near her body was a middle-aged man

half dead battered black and blue

The young boy was never seen again…..

K.V.Radhakrishnan

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

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 seventeen eighteen

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

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

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