AGONY OF BEING HUMANE
CREATIVE WORKS IN ENGLISH
BY
PON GANESHAN OF SRI LANKA
AUTHOR OF A BOOK
COLLECTION OF POEMS IN TAMIL AND ENGLISH
THE SPACE IN A SPACE WITHIN
The
things that I would like to share
I have never planned my life and
similarly I have never been
Failed in my life either
Yet, when I let things go on
the ways of their own,
And start appreciating them,
I feel that likes become dislikes
Dislikes become like at times
That they become traces of life
Always, Always and Always.
Talking things and thinking to
talk things
And things we are told,
Behold things and thinking to
behold at things,
Similarly the things we hear and things we are heard
Always refine life as I feel.
I am one who likes to behold
things at life
As a beautiful dream.
Because, I myself become a dream one day.
WHO AM I.
During my school career probably
in 1967, I was much interested appreciating poems in Tamil, my mother tongue
and wanted to write similar poems. I started writing poems in traditional ways
that is to say with rhymes. I well remember when I was 16 years old , I wrote a
poem and sent it to a Tamil magazine
where it was published in the children corner. I can not tell how much I
had been delighted. The poem was about
the SKY which was like this as far I remember its words if I put it in English.
The sky is so high and
blue in colour
Where beautiful stars
and clouds live together
With happy and gay
The sky is endless and
keeps us wondering
On days with sun and at
night with moon shining
The sky is everywhere
above our heads
The sky is the source
of everything for our lives
It goes and goes
beyond with no end.
I had written more poems of this
nature during my school career but I did not have a single one in my
possession. Most of them were published in Tamil Newspapers and Magazines. Then
I started writing love poems during my teenage when I was reading GCE (A.L). I
had written a number of such poems But I can not remember all such poems.
Indeed, I had a collection of my poems with reference to Newspapers and
Magazines published. Unfortunately, I had lost it due to a cyclone that hit my
area in the year 1977. In course of time, I had published a quarterly Magazine
“ KEETRU” in Tamil meaning flash of light. One Logendralingam Kalaikolunthan and
myself were the Co editors to this magazine. The articles and poems contained
in this magazine were unlike those published in mass media but they were of serious
and intellectual thinking and thought provoking. We could be
able to publish 7 Issues and copies of
some of such Issues are still me.
During the year 1997, I have
published a collection of my poems titled
“ A Space in a Space within “ which contained some poems written by me in
English. This book was reviewed by Mr. K.Kunarajah who says ,
“ Kallooran ( the Pen Name of Ponniah
Ganeshan) also known as Pon Ganesh, has brought forth a book of poems under title “ Velikkul Veli” which means a
space in a space within. It has been published by “View-Gum, a quarterly
magazine only known among serious Tamil literary limited circles.
The collection of poems contains
29 Tamil and 5 English poems. The poet declares about ‘ the point from where
his poems begin’ that his goal is journeying beyond time and space losing all
his identities. And he says, he is only journeying with a soul of his own. The
poet has had close contact with the JVP comrades during the year 1978 and he was
greatly disappointed and dissatisfied with their activities. He symbolizes Karl
Marx, Lenin and Castro only to convey that he was much interested in communist
philosophy and that he lost faith in it due to chauvinistic attitude of the
so-called comrades. So he states in the Free-verse like prose which speaks of
the Point from where his poems begin.
Kallooran says in one of his
English poems,
“ I am given an animal’s name
In a land of people
For I am taught to see
Only my fame
In Newspapers , over radio
And television,
In kitchen
Even in toilets
I look for my name in vain”
In a Tamil poem, he says,
“ A death is only with a few
leaves of life
And a life with some dead thorns
of death
Scare-crown are made alive:
With my death and life
With his life and death “
Kallooran in his anguished
exploration of his humanness, tries to show,
“ Journeying beyond time and
space,
Depriving of all my identities
crowned,
I am out in a space within
All beyond the blade of a grass
All beyond the blade of a flower
:
On the whole, the poems of Kallooran,
are so impressive to the extent that they cannot simply be set aside. “
Now let’s turn to my poems and
creative writings. Before that, I would like to share my views and ideas about
the back ground where does my poems
begin.
WHERE DO MY POEMS BEGIN FROM :
I was told that God existed and I believed. For the sake of His pleasure,
I gave up eating fish and meat. I used to apply Holy Ashes on my forehead and
display flowers in my ears. The God was in the detention of my parochial room
with the smell of incense sticks and of camphor.
“Release Him “
“Release Him “
Karl Marx and Lenin with their
comrades gathered my compound and obstructed my way. All my Angels were chased
out of my dreams. I was caught in-between without a land to rest and without a
sky to fly out.
“Who am I ?”
“Who am I ?”
“Wherein lain my existence ?”
The down-trodden seen and no man
was found being sinned. I accepted it. All my gods had become mere idols
without a tongue to talk. Enjoyed breaking of what I thought was ideal. I was
in the company of comrades. I was in the company of Vietnam fighters. Castro was with a
garland and his magnificent cap on head. Che-Quera shook hands with me. I
rejoiced.
Then saddened my heart, all of a
sudden
The flames of fire everywhere
encountered.
Houses were burnt down
Paddy fields and trees burnt to
ashes.
Human were burnt alive.
The dead body of a young boy who
was killed, was brought and laid
Among corpses with lacerated
chest by bullets.
They said,
He was one of my brothers.
“ Catch him up “
“ Catch him up “
There were my comrades who
shouted towards me. I took to my heels. They tried to fix me up assembling with
my identity.
One by one
Opening the box where they kept
hidden
I took to my heels.
Heard a voice – the murderer was
resembled with my identities.
Another death thrustered upon me.
All burial grounds began to open
Their greedy mouths one by one..
I fell down, lying in a street.
There was a man who took me in
his arm
And made to quench my thirst.
The man bears a name similar to
mine.
My eyes were brimful of tears.
Where are my comrades with the
dress
Of magnificent red color ?
“Who am I ?”
“Who am I ?”
Guns sprouted every where
And heard blasting of everything,
everywhere.
The sky is measured
And stars are counted and accounted.
Leaders are made pictures
Hanging on walls with garlands.
I am again at the place from
where I started.
Yet my journey is with different
sun and stars shining above.
I rub and rub and write myself
again and again.
My poems , the manifestation of
what I observe with my empty
Mind and heart,
Are smiling flowers that bloomed
In a corner
Only to visible for those who are
In anguished exploration of humanness.
My Only
Face
I am a smiling flower
Never decorating myself
For any one.
I will bloom
Even in the graveyard
With my face
With my only face.
Never decorating myself
For any one.
I will bloom
Even in the graveyard
With my face
With my only face.
A
Confession
You need not kiss
This small heaped corpse of mine
You need not either
Hate my soul which confines to a huddled
Room;
I am tattered and torn by a
Thousand small things;
Into the repetition of my love and hatreds
I lost my legs to walk and tired
I am soiled and being hung
On a wall invisible high above.
When I am brought before you
I become loose- ends,
Slipping away.
Yet I face your outermost will
Of the determined love at times
The darkness
The darkness.
Whenever I look out
Only the street devoid of any stirring
Or movement
Comes across.
I can not count stars, trees and leaves
In this vast universe
And keep account.
I set fire to all shattered pieces
In my head within
The burning in a burning within.
My blackness thickens
When I am brought before a blunt probe
I am caught between your tyrannous pressure
And black resistance
My blackness thickens.
This small heaped corpse of mine
You need not either
Hate my soul which confines to a huddled
Room;
I am tattered and torn by a
Thousand small things;
Into the repetition of my love and hatreds
I lost my legs to walk and tired
I am soiled and being hung
On a wall invisible high above.
When I am brought before you
I become loose- ends,
Slipping away.
Yet I face your outermost will
Of the determined love at times
The darkness
The darkness.
Whenever I look out
Only the street devoid of any stirring
Or movement
Comes across.
I can not count stars, trees and leaves
In this vast universe
And keep account.
I set fire to all shattered pieces
In my head within
The burning in a burning within.
My blackness thickens
When I am brought before a blunt probe
I am caught between your tyrannous pressure
And black resistance
My blackness thickens.
A Lazy
Morning
A cup of tea placed by my head
Not with a word
Certainly not with a kiss
Felt only a small patting on shoulder
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Stirrings of small souls
From the mats towards their cups
A laziness crept.
And I felt for my tea
Lifted I, my head from the pillow
With the same pain in the back
Became a snake, to drink the tea.
Man-made noises, nuts cracking
Clinking and hammering at the next door garage
A replacement of singing birds, trees and flowers
Of long forgotten
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Crying of the younger one
For going early to school
The grown up daughter for her pocket money
And the continuous shouting of the mother
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Clinging of utensils
Sound of flashing water
Now and then
I now have to get up with the
Resistance of the void
Paining mind with the refused sex
Let me walk into the alleys
Of crowded hearts collecting broken shadows,
Yet, with a longing for a different morning
With its birds, flowers and dew drop wet.
Not with a word
Certainly not with a kiss
Felt only a small patting on shoulder
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Stirrings of small souls
From the mats towards their cups
A laziness crept.
And I felt for my tea
Lifted I, my head from the pillow
With the same pain in the back
Became a snake, to drink the tea.
Man-made noises, nuts cracking
Clinking and hammering at the next door garage
A replacement of singing birds, trees and flowers
Of long forgotten
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Crying of the younger one
For going early to school
The grown up daughter for her pocket money
And the continuous shouting of the mother
I did not sleep but was sleeping.
Clinging of utensils
Sound of flashing water
Now and then
I now have to get up with the
Resistance of the void
Paining mind with the refused sex
Let me walk into the alleys
Of crowded hearts collecting broken shadows,
Yet, with a longing for a different morning
With its birds, flowers and dew drop wet.
A pain
of Heart
When the window closed for years
Opened slowly and softly again,
The pond in my heart
Overflowed with our sweet memories
and smiled as beautiful flowers
In my garden.
The flowers bloomed after a shower
As if in a morning time.
When your blunt probe exhibited on my wall,
All birds in the river dried up
Flew away, leaving me alone.
When the window was thrust shutting up
Before my face,
What entangled in it, was only
My heart itself
Yet, with your tears oozed as well.
Agony of being HumaneOpened slowly and softly again,
The pond in my heart
Overflowed with our sweet memories
and smiled as beautiful flowers
In my garden.
The flowers bloomed after a shower
As if in a morning time.
When your blunt probe exhibited on my wall,
All birds in the river dried up
Flew away, leaving me alone.
When the window was thrust shutting up
Before my face,
What entangled in it, was only
My heart itself
Yet, with your tears oozed as well.
The world is at loggerheads
One against the other,
Fighting.
Even in my dreams
Demons and angels fight and fight
Falling.
In this kingdom of animals
Which is only to the fittest of the fit,
What place is for a man like me
Who still wants to be humane
Among the men of odd character
Who only identify the world
With destruction,
Among the men made of papers
And documents
Who lack value education
What place is for a man like me
Who still wants to be humane.
Even a child comes with a toy gun
And threatens me with death,
Pointing at my forehead.
All are being probed and probed
With and within one self
And no one is an exception
It is the rule being most effective
Beyond the knowledge of our conception.
The entire universe is happened to be
Disappeared
When you close your eyes
Then what matters whether you are dressed on
Or you are naked,
Yet, I see
When something presses me
Towards death
Some other thing comes up
With flowers to make me singing
As words, words and words of poetry
One against the other,
Fighting.
Even in my dreams
Demons and angels fight and fight
Falling.
In this kingdom of animals
Which is only to the fittest of the fit,
What place is for a man like me
Who still wants to be humane
Among the men of odd character
Who only identify the world
With destruction,
Among the men made of papers
And documents
Who lack value education
What place is for a man like me
Who still wants to be humane.
Even a child comes with a toy gun
And threatens me with death,
Pointing at my forehead.
All are being probed and probed
With and within one self
And no one is an exception
It is the rule being most effective
Beyond the knowledge of our conception.
The entire universe is happened to be
Disappeared
When you close your eyes
Then what matters whether you are dressed on
Or you are naked,
Yet, I see
When something presses me
Towards death
Some other thing comes up
With flowers to make me singing
As words, words and words of poetry
Beginning
and Ending
I move walking with a beginning
and stop with an ending
And again with an ending and then with a beginning
Not towards anything, my friend,
But towards nothingness
Forgetting myself with a cup of wine
In order to dance with leaves of a tree as the breeze
Cheerfully,
In order to bear up the pain of my heart
Sorrowfully
Over the unholy men in holy order
Over the sordid attitude of my country men in power
No one needs any weapon to kill me
I myself dissolve into times and vanish in thin air
I am aware of my death, sure
And I do not fear
I try to celebrate my life all the time.
Whether you are going to live or die
Whether I am going to live or die, ever
The world remains, changing
And changing forever.
I move walking with a beginning
and stop with an ending
and stop with an ending
And again with an ending and then with a beginning
Not towards anything, my friend,
But towards nothingness
Forgetting myself with a cup of wine
In order to dance with leaves of a tree as the breeze
Cheerfully,
In order to bear up the pain of my heart
Sorrowfully
Over the unholy men in holy order
Over the sordid attitude of my country men in power
No one needs any weapon to kill me
I myself dissolve into times and vanish in thin air
I am aware of my death, sure
And I do not fear
I try to celebrate my life all the time.
Whether you are going to live or die
Whether I am going to live or die, ever
The world remains, changing
And changing forever.
I move walking with a beginning
and stop with an ending
I am tired.....
I am tired of my life
Everything has become nothing
And I am ‘nothing with everything’
The morning with its bells and clocks and flowers
comes only to end simply in evenings.
And every moment simply passes out of hands
With no ending
There are things of beauties and sweet memories that may ever last
All over the life
Yet, there are wounds that remain painful even after death
The paining and pleasure entwined with one another,
Trace the life for ever.
I don’t want to be born again and suffer
In the seasonal cycle of death and birth if any
Oh, my God, let me come as a gentle breeze
To play and embrace with beautiful flowers and little birds
Or let me dissolved into nothingness.
I am tired of my life
Everything has become nothing
And I am ‘nothing with everything’
A Suicide
Everything has become nothing
And I am ‘nothing with everything’
The morning with its bells and clocks and flowers
comes only to end simply in evenings.
And every moment simply passes out of hands
With no ending
There are things of beauties and sweet memories that may ever last
All over the life
Yet, there are wounds that remain painful even after death
The paining and pleasure entwined with one another,
Trace the life for ever.
I don’t want to be born again and suffer
In the seasonal cycle of death and birth if any
Oh, my God, let me come as a gentle breeze
To play and embrace with beautiful flowers and little birds
Or let me dissolved into nothingness.
I am tired of my life
Everything has become nothing
And I am ‘nothing with everything’
A Suicide
There was a moth
Hovering around the lamp
At night Flying
I warned her not to be killed by herself
I said, asking
‘ Why do you welcome the death on your own'
But said, she replying
‘Let the lamp itself realize
That I myself had a heart
Before my death'
Hovering around the lamp
At night Flying
I warned her not to be killed by herself
I said, asking
‘ Why do you welcome the death on your own'
But said, she replying
‘Let the lamp itself realize
That I myself had a heart
Before my death'
I have No Death
Think not,
I am one of such funny men
Who look only for a grain of rice
To fill up the stomach and simply
Pass out of this universe?
Think not,
I am one of such funny men
Who are made of papers and documents
To look for rules and regulations
Under a clause or section
Even to throw a coin for a beggar.
When my head is held high, I am the sky above
And when I fall, I am the seed down the earth
To come up again
Either as a cyclone
Or a gentle breeze
Dancing with flowers
I have no death.
Because, I am not the body
I have the body.
I am one of such funny men
Who look only for a grain of rice
To fill up the stomach and simply
Pass out of this universe?
Think not,
I am one of such funny men
Who are made of papers and documents
To look for rules and regulations
Under a clause or section
Even to throw a coin for a beggar.
When my head is held high, I am the sky above
And when I fall, I am the seed down the earth
To come up again
Either as a cyclone
Or a gentle breeze
Dancing with flowers
I have no death.
Because, I am not the body
I have the body.
Let Me
Have My Eyes Blind
Let me have my eyes blind
Not to see the faces of the people merciless
Not to read the news so painful to heart
Let me have my ears deaf
Not to hear the voices of the helpless
Not to be polluted
Not to listen to what is baseless.
As though I am blessed with eyesight
And with no hearing aid,
I wish I were blind and deaf.
Cause' the world is so made of sordid things
With people dishonest and selfishness.
Oh, my Lord take me away from this world
And let me pass into nothingness.
Not to see the faces of the people merciless
Not to read the news so painful to heart
Let me have my ears deaf
Not to hear the voices of the helpless
Not to be polluted
Not to listen to what is baseless.
As though I am blessed with eyesight
And with no hearing aid,
I wish I were blind and deaf.
Cause' the world is so made of sordid things
With people dishonest and selfishness.
Oh, my Lord take me away from this world
And let me pass into nothingness.
On a
Rainy Day
Blades of all grasses, petals
of plants and seeds
Came out of their hidden points from
every nook and corners
With their messages
Declaring
On a day of heavy rain
When the earth relieved of a long drought.
Songs flow over in a language
Devoid of any words
As drops of rain
Falling from the darkened clouds
Over the roof
Over the trees.
The lady, the mango tree in the premises
Tired of delivering so many sweet fruits
Dries up her hair leaves
With the towel of breeze that comes
Then and there.
Dead leaves and papers discarded
Rush as armies of soldiers
Having resurrected with the flood
Towards their destination
In no time to halt
In no time to speak
With an emergency.
Enjoying all these scenario
I have suddenly become a child
Running up, holding a boat made of paper
To launch it on the water
I looked my face at the mirror and the grey hair appearing
Ridiculed at me
With the reasons only known to me.
Came out of their hidden points from
every nook and corners
With their messages
Declaring
On a day of heavy rain
When the earth relieved of a long drought.
Songs flow over in a language
Devoid of any words
As drops of rain
Falling from the darkened clouds
Over the roof
Over the trees.
The lady, the mango tree in the premises
Tired of delivering so many sweet fruits
Dries up her hair leaves
With the towel of breeze that comes
Then and there.
Dead leaves and papers discarded
Rush as armies of soldiers
Having resurrected with the flood
Towards their destination
In no time to halt
In no time to speak
With an emergency.
Enjoying all these scenario
I have suddenly become a child
Running up, holding a boat made of paper
To launch it on the water
I looked my face at the mirror and the grey hair appearing
Ridiculed at me
With the reasons only known to me.
On the
surface of the deep sea
Is it me floating on the
surface
Of the deep sea
Or else, the dead body of the moon
Once I made with sweets of my own
And of motions, smiles and kisses
The dead body of the moon
With its braid of her hair
And with bouquet of words in her soft skin.
Are the lines of poetry, floating on the surface
Of the deep sea
With crying rain of the silver dew
Then why should it flow like a river
To the same spot
To a same spot of the deep sea?
I never drown in the river of waking
And you too.
I’ll be floating on the surface of the deep sea
It’s a stage that brings me of my life back
Into the deep currents of my journeying
I fell
Yet it’s a stirring in a lightening
Then, my old days move leaving me behind
With all smiles, kisses and words
I am remained.
Of the deep sea
Or else, the dead body of the moon
Once I made with sweets of my own
And of motions, smiles and kisses
The dead body of the moon
With its braid of her hair
And with bouquet of words in her soft skin.
Are the lines of poetry, floating on the surface
Of the deep sea
With crying rain of the silver dew
Then why should it flow like a river
To the same spot
To a same spot of the deep sea?
I never drown in the river of waking
And you too.
I’ll be floating on the surface of the deep sea
It’s a stage that brings me of my life back
Into the deep currents of my journeying
I fell
Yet it’s a stirring in a lightening
Then, my old days move leaving me behind
With all smiles, kisses and words
I am remained.
Sincerely
a Drop of Tear
Far beyond the boundless sky
Going beyond and beyond explanation
Since time unknown….
Down below underneath
Going deeper and deeper like roots
Beneath.
I read only the first line of your death’s sorrow
The message of your death narrowed
To a nutshell
In this vast universe
Which is made of only mathematical table
You are now named as a corpse
And lying in a coffin
Waiting for burial as usual.
Extinguishing all your agonies of death
On the bed,
And when the bird of your soul
Took leave towards the state of nothingness
A dropp of tea
Falls in a corner of my heart.
Going beyond and beyond explanation
Since time unknown….
Down below underneath
Going deeper and deeper like roots
Beneath.
I read only the first line of your death’s sorrow
The message of your death narrowed
To a nutshell
In this vast universe
Which is made of only mathematical table
You are now named as a corpse
And lying in a coffin
Waiting for burial as usual.
Extinguishing all your agonies of death
On the bed,
And when the bird of your soul
Took leave towards the state of nothingness
A dropp of tea
Falls in a corner of my heart.
The
Heart That Never Pretends
You simply asked me to forget
and forgive
And wanted to go away
From the days upon days we moved together
From the dreams upon dreams I see you forever
You simply wanted to erase what I cherish
In my heart and remember
Oh dear, let the days I moved with you
Remain for ever throughout my life
Or else let my life last at least
Till your thoughts about me cease to exist
Wounded the heart may be time and again
Yet, it never forgets whoever she loves
Cause, the heart never pretends
She only knows how to throb
And wanted to go away
From the days upon days we moved together
From the dreams upon dreams I see you forever
You simply wanted to erase what I cherish
In my heart and remember
Oh dear, let the days I moved with you
Remain for ever throughout my life
Or else let my life last at least
Till your thoughts about me cease to exist
Wounded the heart may be time and again
Yet, it never forgets whoever she loves
Cause, the heart never pretends
She only knows how to throb
The
voice I hear and the scene I watch
From what you learnt and knew
From what you came to pass till now
I hear your voice raising.
From the far off hill tops
From the ground I trod my feet
The voice is raising
And I hear your voice
From the black ocean where the ship
Capsized with all on board
Screaming for help.
My heart is penetrated with your voice
That steps into my dreams at night
That which I carefully preserve.
I am stopped at a point
With messages pervading
Through the key hole of the window
I am looking into
I am stopped at a point
Where all words fail
To express and show my heart.
I need some awakening from dreams
Because, I hear some voice
Beyond the sense of hearing
Because I see something visible
Beyond the sense of visibility
This is what I hear
This is what I see.
From what you came to pass till now
I hear your voice raising.
From the far off hill tops
From the ground I trod my feet
The voice is raising
And I hear your voice
From the black ocean where the ship
Capsized with all on board
Screaming for help.
My heart is penetrated with your voice
That steps into my dreams at night
That which I carefully preserve.
I am stopped at a point
With messages pervading
Through the key hole of the window
I am looking into
I am stopped at a point
Where all words fail
To express and show my heart.
I need some awakening from dreams
Because, I hear some voice
Beyond the sense of hearing
Because I see something visible
Beyond the sense of visibility
This is what I hear
This is what I see.
The
World as It Is...
I have become a mountain stream
In my dream;
Not intending anyone to quench his thirsty.
I have become a flower
Not intending anyone to feast his eyes.
I have become the sky painted with
Different beautiful colours
Not intending any one to paint and enjoy.
The stream, the flower and the sky
Tell me something eternal
The thing that keeps on going
With no beginning
With no end.
In my dream;
Not intending anyone to quench his thirsty.
I have become a flower
Not intending anyone to feast his eyes.
I have become the sky painted with
Different beautiful colours
Not intending any one to paint and enjoy.
The stream, the flower and the sky
Tell me something eternal
The thing that keeps on going
With no beginning
With no end.
Tribute
To Lasantha
Lasantha, you are also dead and
gone at last
In an age untimely, a lot of things and actions needed by you
To say and achieve
Let those who killed you, pretend to be happy and see
That Justice never fails
That hero never dies and coward never lives.
The message you have left behind is lit and burning bright
Like a flame in a corner of our heart
Your voices against injustice and corruptions
Are not silenced but still heard for us to go ahead.
The land with ots bells and clocks and flowers
Gone to dogs.
The land with its triple gems
Gone to rocks
Where there are unholy men in holy orders
And holy men in unholy orders.
Let hope the time to take its trends of its own
Sure, your name is written in my scripts
Till I am dead or killed by some unknown.
Lasantha, you are also dead and gone at last
In an age untimely, a lot of things and actions needed by you
To say and achieve
Let those who killed you, pretend to be happy and see
That Justice never fails
That hero never dies and coward never lives.
The message you have left behind is lit and burning bright
Like a flame in a corner of our heart
Your voices against injustice and corruptions
Are not silenced but still heard for us to go ahead.
The land with ots bells and clocks and flowers
Gone to dogs.
The land with its triple gems
Gone to rocks
Where there are unholy men in holy orders
And holy men in unholy orders.
Let hope the time to take its trends of its own
Sure, your name is written in my scripts
Till I am dead or killed by some unknown.
In an age untimely, a lot of things and actions needed by you
To say and achieve
Let those who killed you, pretend to be happy and see
That Justice never fails
That hero never dies and coward never lives.
The message you have left behind is lit and burning bright
Like a flame in a corner of our heart
Your voices against injustice and corruptions
Are not silenced but still heard for us to go ahead.
The land with ots bells and clocks and flowers
Gone to dogs.
The land with its triple gems
Gone to rocks
Where there are unholy men in holy orders
And holy men in unholy orders.
Let hope the time to take its trends of its own
Sure, your name is written in my scripts
Till I am dead or killed by some unknown.
Lasantha, you are also dead and gone at last
In an age untimely, a lot of things and actions needed by you
To say and achieve
Let those who killed you, pretend to be happy and see
That Justice never fails
That hero never dies and coward never lives.
The message you have left behind is lit and burning bright
Like a flame in a corner of our heart
Your voices against injustice and corruptions
Are not silenced but still heard for us to go ahead.
The land with ots bells and clocks and flowers
Gone to dogs.
The land with its triple gems
Gone to rocks
Where there are unholy men in holy orders
And holy men in unholy orders.
Let hope the time to take its trends of its own
Sure, your name is written in my scripts
Till I am dead or killed by some unknown.
To My
Grand Child
Oh, my little cup cake!
My daughter made you in heaven and brought you
For me to count.
With little eyes so penetrating
And with little legs toddling here and there
All over the Eden of my garden.
Oh my little beautiful charming pearl
Tossed down to this earth to add beauty
To my garden
I am in the evening part of my life
With all the flowers withered
Yet I am with flowers blooming
In the morning part of your life
I am not towards ending,
‘cause you are another beginning to me
You live in the house of tomorrow
Which I can not visit
It is a life longing, my child
I wish you may live and enjoy the life on your own
With my love and love alone
My daughter made you in heaven and brought you
For me to count.
With little eyes so penetrating
And with little legs toddling here and there
All over the Eden of my garden.
Oh my little beautiful charming pearl
Tossed down to this earth to add beauty
To my garden
I am in the evening part of my life
With all the flowers withered
Yet I am with flowers blooming
In the morning part of your life
I am not towards ending,
‘cause you are another beginning to me
You live in the house of tomorrow
Which I can not visit
It is a life longing, my child
I wish you may live and enjoy the life on your own
With my love and love alone
The
Book of Life
I have nearly completed
Writing the book of my life
And waiting it to be launched.
There are pages telling about the foregone days
I walked with happiness and anguish
Hand in hand,
Pages with pictures of childhood memories
And of the girl I loved at first sight.
It now contains 61 pages
And I might write some more and gone
For ages.
You are all welcome to read this book, placing
It in a casket with bouquet and incense smelling
I am gone and gone forever
With no any idea of coming again here
And suffer.
As I feel I was born surplus
In a world merciless
Writing the book of my life
And waiting it to be launched.
There are pages telling about the foregone days
I walked with happiness and anguish
Hand in hand,
Pages with pictures of childhood memories
And of the girl I loved at first sight.
It now contains 61 pages
And I might write some more and gone
For ages.
You are all welcome to read this book, placing
It in a casket with bouquet and incense smelling
I am gone and gone forever
With no any idea of coming again here
And suffer.
As I feel I was born surplus
In a world merciless
The
Things I Could Tell From Things I Can not Tell
Heard the trembling voice
Of the X’mas card I had sent
From somewhere amidst debris
Of wall and fences, man made boundaries
Oh, cruel tidal waves!
Is it the very sea waves
Once I played with songs and games
Invaded into my compound
Like devils and devils
With its sharpened nails
With its poisonous teeth
Don’t conceal
Still I see the blood of babies
And of women spilling in your jaws.
How did you become an anarchist
With such atrocities
I asked the sea
“It’s a top secret’ said she,
‘Can you shot me dead with your gun?
She asked, laughing at me for a fun.
When all gods resurrected
Corpses lying piled up in heaps
Opened their eyes and then
Closed with their hands, all of a sudden.
Noticed the tender and beautiful feet
Of a little girl lying dead among the corpses
Wrapped up on mats, projecting
“Found the place”
“Found the place where this little girl gone”
I hear the voice in my ear
The X’mas card hurried and vanished in thin air.
“Which god is responsible for all these wanton
Destruction “? I asked the sea.
She receded, muttering
“Not anything of the sort
It is all man made “
It is the story of nature
Turned once into god and then
The God was reduced to nature again.
Of the X’mas card I had sent
From somewhere amidst debris
Of wall and fences, man made boundaries
Oh, cruel tidal waves!
Is it the very sea waves
Once I played with songs and games
Invaded into my compound
Like devils and devils
With its sharpened nails
With its poisonous teeth
Don’t conceal
Still I see the blood of babies
And of women spilling in your jaws.
How did you become an anarchist
With such atrocities
I asked the sea
“It’s a top secret’ said she,
‘Can you shot me dead with your gun?
She asked, laughing at me for a fun.
When all gods resurrected
Corpses lying piled up in heaps
Opened their eyes and then
Closed with their hands, all of a sudden.
Noticed the tender and beautiful feet
Of a little girl lying dead among the corpses
Wrapped up on mats, projecting
“Found the place”
“Found the place where this little girl gone”
I hear the voice in my ear
The X’mas card hurried and vanished in thin air.
“Which god is responsible for all these wanton
Destruction “? I asked the sea.
She receded, muttering
“Not anything of the sort
It is all man made “
It is the story of nature
Turned once into god and then
The God was reduced to nature again.
Nothing
but Nothing
You are not merely a mosque
Nor I am a temple or a church
For you to have the god of your own
And I am mine.
You are not a sun
Nor I am a moon.
For you to go to bed and rest
And for me to be awake with my stars.
All night.
You are not a President
Nor I am your citizen
For you to cover your neck with a shawl
And rule
For I am to be ruled.
It is nothing but nothing.
Nor I am a temple or a church
For you to have the god of your own
And I am mine.
You are not a sun
Nor I am a moon.
For you to go to bed and rest
And for me to be awake with my stars.
All night.
You are not a President
Nor I am your citizen
For you to cover your neck with a shawl
And rule
For I am to be ruled.
It is nothing but nothing.
The
Yellow Dolls
Oh, Destiny,
How deep you are
And how dark you are!
The jingling yellow toys
Sprawling in the wilderness
Of their ignorance and snobbishness
I spurn these academic parrots
Who tie a dragonfly to the star
And the star to their very nose -
I see them vanishing one after the other
Against your deep fathom
And distant dark horizons.
I am not awaiting the dawn
But I face you
Oh, darkness
Face to face
Before I fall
To blast off the yellow dolls
Before they fall.
How deep you are
And how dark you are!
The jingling yellow toys
Sprawling in the wilderness
Of their ignorance and snobbishness
I spurn these academic parrots
Who tie a dragonfly to the star
And the star to their very nose -
I see them vanishing one after the other
Against your deep fathom
And distant dark horizons.
I am not awaiting the dawn
But I face you
Oh, darkness
Face to face
Before I fall
To blast off the yellow dolls
Before they fall.
Under
One Sun
I live in an alien land
With an alien tongue
No one understands.
A broom stick amidst half-swept debris
A lonely corpse in a coffin
With its front teeth
Slightly projected
A plate of rice with curry
On a broken table, half eaten
I live in an alien land
My tongue, no one understands.
I am given an animal’s name
In a land of people
For I am taught to see
Only my fame
In Newspapers, over radio
And television,
In kitchen
Even in toilets
I look for my name in vain.
Place my name in your plate of rice
Place my name in your morning cup of tea
Place my name in the book of your grievances
And your triumphs as well.
Yet, I live in an alien land
With alien tongue
Let live in a land of humans
And for a heart, I pray
To read in my scripts, a name thine
And you, in yours, mine
Shall our stars in the sky shine
Under One Sun Again
With an alien tongue
No one understands.
A broom stick amidst half-swept debris
A lonely corpse in a coffin
With its front teeth
Slightly projected
A plate of rice with curry
On a broken table, half eaten
I live in an alien land
My tongue, no one understands.
I am given an animal’s name
In a land of people
For I am taught to see
Only my fame
In Newspapers, over radio
And television,
In kitchen
Even in toilets
I look for my name in vain.
Place my name in your plate of rice
Place my name in your morning cup of tea
Place my name in the book of your grievances
And your triumphs as well.
Yet, I live in an alien land
With alien tongue
Let live in a land of humans
And for a heart, I pray
To read in my scripts, a name thine
And you, in yours, mine
Shall our stars in the sky shine
Under One Sun Again
With
the same old sea waves.
I am today with the same old
sea waves
They seem not cheerful as yesterday
The same old wind
At the same old evening
Why does the moon too is in the same apron.
Cast a look with an empty smile
A tumor somewhere in my heart
Boils and boils discharging with pus
Crows peck and eat the decomposed dead body
Of a friend mine,
The dead body half burnt, lay once here.
Wonder why these sea waves are not cheerful
And dancing as yesterday.
True, all are not always the same
I have my sea and waves mine
You have your sea and waves yours.
Despite all attempts for peace in vain
We fight and fight with one another
I have a sun and shadow
And you have yours.
The wind outside is quietly passing
With a laugh
And leaving me alone
With the sea
With the waves, I am remained.
They seem not cheerful as yesterday
The same old wind
At the same old evening
Why does the moon too is in the same apron.
Cast a look with an empty smile
A tumor somewhere in my heart
Boils and boils discharging with pus
Crows peck and eat the decomposed dead body
Of a friend mine,
The dead body half burnt, lay once here.
Wonder why these sea waves are not cheerful
And dancing as yesterday.
True, all are not always the same
I have my sea and waves mine
You have your sea and waves yours.
Despite all attempts for peace in vain
We fight and fight with one another
I have a sun and shadow
And you have yours.
The wind outside is quietly passing
With a laugh
And leaving me alone
With the sea
With the waves, I am remained.
Dream
Into Dreams
I was lying drowned into my
dream
Each wave took me up and down
Out of the black ocean and made me floating
On the surface at last.
I felt as if something so heavy pulling me
Towards,
I was struggling with waves being pulled me up
And pushing me down
Then I found in my hand
A book
I read and read
Alas!
All the pages spoke about my drawings
And poems
I turned the pages carefully one by one
And found to my surprise.
One page was left blank
Much worried as to why
And I shouted at the waves.
No response at once
I shouted again
Then, I heard a soft voice
From somewhere
‘I am here'
Then I noticed her beautiful face
Started to appear shining in the blank page
with full of life bright
Oh, dear, I asked her
‘Do you think I forget you for ever'
She blinked her eyes and said' No dear'
Each wave took me up and down
Out of the black ocean and made me floating
On the surface at last.
I felt as if something so heavy pulling me
Towards,
I was struggling with waves being pulled me up
And pushing me down
Then I found in my hand
A book
I read and read
Alas!
All the pages spoke about my drawings
And poems
I turned the pages carefully one by one
And found to my surprise.
One page was left blank
Much worried as to why
And I shouted at the waves.
No response at once
I shouted again
Then, I heard a soft voice
From somewhere
‘I am here'
Then I noticed her beautiful face
Started to appear shining in the blank page
with full of life bright
Oh, dear, I asked her
‘Do you think I forget you for ever'
She blinked her eyes and said' No dear'
Arrival
of the Bird with a Word of Grief
Out of the black water
And from the waking of the gently
Thought about her
A lonely bird came and rested
Upon the branch of my bones.
She did not utter a single word
And so did I, too.
It was after a long time
Her arrival.
The bird
Pecking and pecking with its tiny beak
In search of something
On my branch sitting
My heart so brimful of tears, flows out
I have closed my eyes.
I have closed my eyes
For a sigh
For a sigh l of relief.
The waves that are thrown against
With words and words…
Return to the same spot
Hitting their heads again and again
To the shore
Only to find their way home
Being disappointed.
And from the waking of the gently
Thought about her
A lonely bird came and rested
Upon the branch of my bones.
She did not utter a single word
And so did I, too.
It was after a long time
Her arrival.
The bird
Pecking and pecking with its tiny beak
In search of something
On my branch sitting
My heart so brimful of tears, flows out
I have closed my eyes.
I have closed my eyes
For a sigh
For a sigh l of relief.
The waves that are thrown against
With words and words…
Return to the same spot
Hitting their heads again and again
To the shore
Only to find their way home
Being disappointed.
Good
Bye My Sweet Heart
Where do you want to take
All my sad notes
When every eye of heart’s fountain
Dried up in this waste land
When my last word too
Defeated to the last straw.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
The thought where I gently float.
Let me remain here itself
With bruised wounds
Being all my dreams shattered to ground.
Oh, my sweet thoughts
Flow not again out of my deep sea
As rising waves
Throw not my messages in vain
Again and again.
I am thrown lying
In my silence, are all my dreams buried
I am lying thrown in my street
Like an empty mutilated tin
Exhausted all of its contains.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
The thought where I always gently float
The death is certain
Yes honey, it’s for me too
Yet I see not yours in any of my scripts
Even I myself request.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
Oh, my sweet heart, farewell to thee
Is the love narrowed only to a fire
Whenever I like to light
And whenever you like to put it out?
All my sad notes
When every eye of heart’s fountain
Dried up in this waste land
When my last word too
Defeated to the last straw.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
The thought where I gently float.
Let me remain here itself
With bruised wounds
Being all my dreams shattered to ground.
Oh, my sweet thoughts
Flow not again out of my deep sea
As rising waves
Throw not my messages in vain
Again and again.
I am thrown lying
In my silence, are all my dreams buried
I am lying thrown in my street
Like an empty mutilated tin
Exhausted all of its contains.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
The thought where I always gently float
The death is certain
Yes honey, it’s for me too
Yet I see not yours in any of my scripts
Even I myself request.
Farewell, oh, my sweet thought
Oh, my sweet heart, farewell to thee
Is the love narrowed only to a fire
Whenever I like to light
And whenever you like to put it out?
A
Tribute To My Bohamian
I waited for you bohemian
To carry on the torch of my friendship
Yet, by the time I came,
You were absent and your chair was empty
To my utter grievance
Where did you go anyway
I heard you have passed away
In your sleep
Leaving me alone
And you would not see me again
And so do I.
This is the life after all, we shared all along
The man who was yesterday, is no more today
Still I see, the glamorous swans
The irksome and intellectual owl
With luminous round holes
Of blinking lamps
Ruminating on the trickles of fetched
Post modernism
Enjoying at the pond without your presence.
I still see the old chimpanzees
Jabber in the politics
Sitting at the table
With the glass of drinks
To overcome the inertia
And empty articulation
The days without you, are so painful
May your soul rest in peace
To carry on the torch of my friendship
Yet, by the time I came,
You were absent and your chair was empty
To my utter grievance
Where did you go anyway
I heard you have passed away
In your sleep
Leaving me alone
And you would not see me again
And so do I.
This is the life after all, we shared all along
The man who was yesterday, is no more today
Still I see, the glamorous swans
The irksome and intellectual owl
With luminous round holes
Of blinking lamps
Ruminating on the trickles of fetched
Post modernism
Enjoying at the pond without your presence.
I still see the old chimpanzees
Jabber in the politics
Sitting at the table
With the glass of drinks
To overcome the inertia
And empty articulation
The days without you, are so painful
May your soul rest in peace
Hope
Built a house of mine
With my tears and blood
For a man to emerge:
Sang a song of mine
With flute made of my flesh and bones
For a man to listen:
The sun came only to burn
The man came only to loot my house
And tear my song.
Yet, I, as the chanter of pains and joys
Believe, firmly believe
That the sun has rays to shine
That the man has heart to share
For me and those yet to be born.
With my tears and blood
For a man to emerge:
Sang a song of mine
With flute made of my flesh and bones
For a man to listen:
The sun came only to burn
The man came only to loot my house
And tear my song.
Yet, I, as the chanter of pains and joys
Believe, firmly believe
That the sun has rays to shine
That the man has heart to share
For me and those yet to be born.
A Birth
Day Wish
What picture shall I draw
On the 44th page
Of your life today?
A sea gull
Flying beyond the horizon
And a lonely boat down the sea
Sailing?
Yes, the sea gulls
Still flying and flying beyond
Unnoticing the lonely boat
Which is sailing and sailing.
What is the destination
The bird is flying towards
When every target in the vast universe
Fails.
What picture shall I draw
On the 44th page
Of your life today?
A sea gull
Flying beyond the horizon
And a lonely boat down the sea
Sailing?
Yes, the sea gulls
Still flying and flying beyond
Unnoticing the lonely boat
Which is sailing and sailing.
What is the destination
The bird is flying towards
When every target in the vast universe
Fails.
Identity
Within how many layers of clothes
That cannot be pulled off,
Should I smother and perspire:
At times
The soft beautiful cherries
That crystallize within me
Vanish like dream in thin air.
It is true
In the freezing cold that chills my body
And the heat that scorches my soul
I have to clothe myself
With something.
How could I breath
In a place
Where the freezing cold
And the scorching heat
Cannot meet.
Into
the Ashes, I Myself Burnt Down
It was someone who brought a
parcel
From the black ocean
Containing some of my poems
Written some years ago
To my address nameless
Yet it’s my street
It’s my place of abode.
Opened the parcel and saw
A poem devoid of its flower
Hung in a corner of the sheet
Some fell down, broken into pieces.
Where did I misplace them
How did I loose them?
Aren’t they worthy of crowning my name
Then, how did the man bring it to me
Again
To my address nameless.
I asked the man ‘Who sent it back? ’
He was silent and did not a single word he said
He wrote a name and vanished.
Then, why should I keep these poems
Thrown into my face?
I have to bury them
I have to burn them to ashes
I set fire,
Poems struggled and struggled
Uttering her name again and again.
It’s now burning
It’s burning
Like a fire set to my heart
At last it’s burnt to ashes.
Again I saw,
The skeleton of the name, the man wrote
Was lying alive into the ashes, I myself burnt down.
From the black ocean
Containing some of my poems
Written some years ago
To my address nameless
Yet it’s my street
It’s my place of abode.
Opened the parcel and saw
A poem devoid of its flower
Hung in a corner of the sheet
Some fell down, broken into pieces.
Where did I misplace them
How did I loose them?
Aren’t they worthy of crowning my name
Then, how did the man bring it to me
Again
To my address nameless.
I asked the man ‘Who sent it back? ’
He was silent and did not a single word he said
He wrote a name and vanished.
Then, why should I keep these poems
Thrown into my face?
I have to bury them
I have to burn them to ashes
I set fire,
Poems struggled and struggled
Uttering her name again and again.
It’s now burning
It’s burning
Like a fire set to my heart
At last it’s burnt to ashes.
Again I saw,
The skeleton of the name, the man wrote
Was lying alive into the ashes, I myself burnt down.
The
Casket I Brought
As I promised
There were a lot of things in abundance
To bring you in the lovely casket of my soul
Dead-tired arriving
At the sea beach tourist Inn
I was resurrected with the shower of bath;
At a distance, the sky was devouring the sea
The waves unmindful of me,
Entwining themselves in so many forms
Embroidered with silver foams,
On the carpet of beach
Where small crabs, played
Throwing their tiny eyes to and fro.
I drew a picture on the golden sand
A squirrel, out of a branch of a tree
Sprouted, all of a sudden
In the middle of the grove
With the message, which I have jotted down.
The silver-breasted white skinned
Nymphs, floating freely in the swimming pond
Happened to be packed, I’m afraid
In the lovely casket, which I made
For you to bring things in.
Also packed are my native
Inconvenience, experienced
At the dinning table
Making my hands as forks and spoons.
Collecting all such things of beauties
I set off home
Along the streets burning with flames of dust
On these dog-days
When getting up and down from the bus
At every sentry point of the camouflaged Forces,
Alas,
All the treasures were lost
Somewhere on the way
Like the beautiful white dove
Snatched away by a mid night cat.
When returned home,
Amidst the blaring and incessant noises
Of the rice mills
And of the devilish heavy vehicles
Carrying bags and bags of paddy husk
I am done away with the empty casket
Lying on the porch of my home.
There were a lot of things in abundance
To bring you in the lovely casket of my soul
Dead-tired arriving
At the sea beach tourist Inn
I was resurrected with the shower of bath;
At a distance, the sky was devouring the sea
The waves unmindful of me,
Entwining themselves in so many forms
Embroidered with silver foams,
On the carpet of beach
Where small crabs, played
Throwing their tiny eyes to and fro.
I drew a picture on the golden sand
A squirrel, out of a branch of a tree
Sprouted, all of a sudden
In the middle of the grove
With the message, which I have jotted down.
The silver-breasted white skinned
Nymphs, floating freely in the swimming pond
Happened to be packed, I’m afraid
In the lovely casket, which I made
For you to bring things in.
Also packed are my native
Inconvenience, experienced
At the dinning table
Making my hands as forks and spoons.
Collecting all such things of beauties
I set off home
Along the streets burning with flames of dust
On these dog-days
When getting up and down from the bus
At every sentry point of the camouflaged Forces,
Alas,
All the treasures were lost
Somewhere on the way
Like the beautiful white dove
Snatched away by a mid night cat.
When returned home,
Amidst the blaring and incessant noises
Of the rice mills
And of the devilish heavy vehicles
Carrying bags and bags of paddy husk
I am done away with the empty casket
Lying on the porch of my home.
The
Heart Thrown Into A Dustbın
Why do throw my heart into a
dustbin
Again and again
And I am to pick it up
Many a time
Why do you throw my heart into a dustbin
And break my hands
That I stretch towards you.
I always love the flowers
Blossomed in my garden
Treasured and chiseled in my heart
They are, yes, as large as this universe
If you are not loving me
Tell me I am gone
But with the glory of love
With the glory of love of my flowers.
Do you listen to the sorrow notes
Of my heart lying in the dustbin
Do you hear my words of love
Once I whispered into your ears.
That we existed
That we have been existing
All are in us
It is your turn to speak to me
Why do you throw my heart
Away into dustbin.
Again and again
And I am to pick it up
Many a time
Why do you throw my heart into a dustbin
And break my hands
That I stretch towards you.
I always love the flowers
Blossomed in my garden
Treasured and chiseled in my heart
They are, yes, as large as this universe
If you are not loving me
Tell me I am gone
But with the glory of love
With the glory of love of my flowers.
Do you listen to the sorrow notes
Of my heart lying in the dustbin
Do you hear my words of love
Once I whispered into your ears.
That we existed
That we have been existing
All are in us
It is your turn to speak to me
Why do you throw my heart
Away into dustbin.
The
Space In A Space Wıthın
Thrusting into my hands
A little of the never ending time,
And a piece of boundless ether
Into my feet,
I am named as human.
Amidst cries and tears by kiths and my kins
Amidst funeral beatings
In the color of afternoon
Or suddenly
In the color of a morning
I am gone and my walls
Are sealed
And my coffin nailed.
A little of the never ending time,
And a piece of boundless ether
Into my feet,
I am named as human.
Amidst cries and tears by kiths and my kins
Amidst funeral beatings
In the color of afternoon
Or suddenly
In the color of a morning
I am gone and my walls
Are sealed
And my coffin nailed.
Still then
I carry heavy loads of void dreams
Arresting my soul in a small
Room airless
Playing with my usual toys
Clay- made
And journeying by false’s shades.
Journeying beyond time and space
Depriving of all my identities crowned,
I am out in a space within
All beyond the edge of a grass
All beyond the blade of a flower.
I carry heavy loads of void dreams
Arresting my soul in a small
Room airless
Playing with my usual toys
Clay- made
And journeying by false’s shades.
Journeying beyond time and space
Depriving of all my identities crowned,
I am out in a space within
All beyond the edge of a grass
All beyond the blade of a flower.
TEACH
ME TO CARE AND NOT TO CARE
Corpses adrift and were cast
out ashore
With heads severed.
I came and cried
Fitting my head to the torso
Of the dead body
And weeping and shedding tears
And accusing you.
Then,
You came and cried
Taking another headless body
And fitting yours.
You wept and shed tears
Accusing me.
Oh, dear friends,
How to learn to care and not to care
Or else,
To conceal, in this land of grievances
The boundless love
Confining it to a nutshell
And grieve and lie
Like a rock, a rock and a rock.
With heads severed.
I came and cried
Fitting my head to the torso
Of the dead body
And weeping and shedding tears
And accusing you.
Then,
You came and cried
Taking another headless body
And fitting yours.
You wept and shed tears
Accusing me.
Oh, dear friends,
How to learn to care and not to care
Or else,
To conceal, in this land of grievances
The boundless love
Confining it to a nutshell
And grieve and lie
Like a rock, a rock and a rock.
The
Heart With A Pain
I softly knocked at the door
And wanted her to open once more
Just to see her face and go.
I tried and tried again in vain
And returned home with a heavy heart in pain
Traveling in a bus.
Alas, I can not believe myself
She was seated next to me
I did not ask how it was and nor did she.
At last, I got down from the bus
Saying good-bye and she was left alone
Again in my dream.
And wanted her to open once more
Just to see her face and go.
I tried and tried again in vain
And returned home with a heavy heart in pain
Traveling in a bus.
Alas, I can not believe myself
She was seated next to me
I did not ask how it was and nor did she.
At last, I got down from the bus
Saying good-bye and she was left alone
Again in my dream.
STILL
I LOVE YOU
I
am as dead my neighbor
Come , see
My house and garden
And temple all in ashes
The temple I visit every Friday
Offering flowers and sweets
They were thrown in fire
And laid trodden on boot and feet
I am as dead, my dear neighbor
Don’t you feel sad for me
You do I am sure
Our blood and tears will melt
this iron earth
Why not yours ?
Do you remember , my neighbor
My sand colored cat, the dog
which wags his tail
Whenever you come,
The green grass and moss
Spread on my garden
It is all burnt
It is all burnt to ashes.
I heard you too came along with khakis
The devils always blood thirsty
With Arms and bombs.
Isn’t shame ?
For years and years we lived
together
Joying joys
I love a land of peace and
justice
You, dear my neighbor
Not to fall prey at other’s hand.
Still I love you my neighbor
Still I love you my neighbor
My heart already pieced and in
pain
You too not to set fire to my
heart again.
MY DEAR FELLOW MAN…..
In
what container
Do you want to weigh me
After mutilating hands and legs
Clipping of fingers
And severing my head
What is poured here
Is nothing but blood and blood
My fellow man.
How many outfits you wear
Heavy and struggling to bear
I don’t like to alight my eyes on you
Go back and come with your real self
Go back and come with the languages
Of the heart
Go back and come being resurrected
Out of ashes of all, man –made
Differences, burnt.
Is life
Grubbing, slumbering and squatting
And then vanishing.
Is life
A mere pot of boiled rice
For you to measure out
With a small spoon
And me to receive it?
Who knows my woes
My fellow man,
You thrust so relentlessly
All yours on me
I, being deprived of all rights
To resent.
From life upon life
Deep and serene
With multitudes of genesis
Packed upon
I should quench at least a drop
From the vast ocean of this life.
Like the blooming
Red shoe flower with its
Dewdrop wet
In the colour of my very blood.
Do you want to weigh me
After mutilating hands and legs
Clipping of fingers
And severing my head
What is poured here
Is nothing but blood and blood
My fellow man.
How many outfits you wear
Heavy and struggling to bear
I don’t like to alight my eyes on you
Go back and come with your real self
Go back and come with the languages
Of the heart
Go back and come being resurrected
Out of ashes of all, man –made
Differences, burnt.
Is life
Grubbing, slumbering and squatting
And then vanishing.
Is life
A mere pot of boiled rice
For you to measure out
With a small spoon
And me to receive it?
Who knows my woes
My fellow man,
You thrust so relentlessly
All yours on me
I, being deprived of all rights
To resent.
From life upon life
Deep and serene
With multitudes of genesis
Packed upon
I should quench at least a drop
From the vast ocean of this life.
Like the blooming
Red shoe flower with its
Dewdrop wet
In the colour of my very blood.
Trıbute To Two Little Birds
Oh,
Kirupa, Ranja
You two little birds
Still twinkling and entwining
With a pleasant smile
In my memory innocence are you
Only my heart knows
How to prove it, single handed
Except the burning tears
Burst out of my inflicted heart.
What did you remember at your last moment
Your mother and sisters
Who are bitterly crying and weeping
And the mobike you rode the other day
Still lies with silence.
Your early grave brought by the respectable saints
Who struggle in search of a crown for me.
Is the holy crown which I have been respecting
Fallen into a dirt ditch for a moment?
I am one who shed tears
Even for the squeezing of a little flower
And even a heart made of iron
Would surely melt over your death
Oh, you two birds.
Still in my memory
You twinkle and twinkle
With pleasant smile
How to forget your free movement
Here and there in your little sky!
And your deaths are wages of whose sin?
Yet, I still need the crown
My freedom, its true
Let them come with clean hands
And knock at my door
Sometimes I may accept it
Or else, who needs it?
Let a stray dong bite and eat
And comrades,
Let me go to the forest again
I want the resurrection of my crucified
Two little flowers.
You two little birds
Still twinkling and entwining
With a pleasant smile
In my memory innocence are you
Only my heart knows
How to prove it, single handed
Except the burning tears
Burst out of my inflicted heart.
What did you remember at your last moment
Your mother and sisters
Who are bitterly crying and weeping
And the mobike you rode the other day
Still lies with silence.
Your early grave brought by the respectable saints
Who struggle in search of a crown for me.
Is the holy crown which I have been respecting
Fallen into a dirt ditch for a moment?
I am one who shed tears
Even for the squeezing of a little flower
And even a heart made of iron
Would surely melt over your death
Oh, you two birds.
Still in my memory
You twinkle and twinkle
With pleasant smile
How to forget your free movement
Here and there in your little sky!
And your deaths are wages of whose sin?
Yet, I still need the crown
My freedom, its true
Let them come with clean hands
And knock at my door
Sometimes I may accept it
Or else, who needs it?
Let a stray dong bite and eat
And comrades,
Let me go to the forest again
I want the resurrection of my crucified
Two little flowers.
The Sweets he brings.
Oh, my dearest son,
Where did you go
My eyes still shed tears
Thinking of you
Mother and your unmarried
Sisters too
Whenever small one asks of you
With her childish tongue
I tell her of your long march
For bringing her sweets.
Where did you go
my dearest son,?
Leaving us all in the dark
To bring us light
When do you bring
sweets for your
Little sister?
At least before you see her dead
On road holding sweets with her hands
The school books
Torn by bullets.
Where did you go
We fear as if the sky falling
And the sea raising
Up above the coconut trees
And as if we were thrown
Into the jaws of deaths.
I look at you table
Still lying silently
The books you read
The pen you wrote
Like you on days, you quarreled
With your mother.
I am sure
You may bring sweets, some day
It may be on your grave
You may look for me
When I am not alive
Nor did your little sister
I would have met my fate
Probably by a bullet
On road when I am out
In a market place
Or in the boutique, having breakfast.
If you want to see
And any message left to me
Talk to my picture
Lying on the ground without a wall
To hang on
Offering the sweet you brought.
Ponniah Ganeshan
(This is a poem I wrote somewhere in 1986 when the war
situation intensified in Sri Lanka about a combatant)
A vs A
The death flickers with a few leaves of life;
And the life struggles with many
Flickering thorns of death
All scarecrows are made alive
By my death and life
By your life and death.
They dragged and brought me
Before the judge.
‘My Lord, what I say is truth
And nothing but truth ‘
‘Are you guilty of being rejoiced
and the killing of our soldiers? "
They dragged and brought him
Before the judge.
‘My Lord, what I say is truth
And nothing but truth ‘
‘Are you guilty of being rejoiced
and the killing of our freedom fighters? "
I took to my heels
He took to his heels
The death flickers with a few leaves of life;
The life struggles with many
Flickering thorns of death.
A SHORT STORY WITH A POEM
IN
A FRACTION OF S SECOND
He felt that he had become a tiny
dot in a far off distance. He has just returned from the moment that was lost
within a fraction of seconds. He had perceived
the fanatic speculation of the very moment that took him to the vicinity
of death. Felt that he was carried away by a fierce lion, holding him it in its
mouth into the deep forest. Everything was visible before his naked eye but no
moment left for him to cry out.
He was submitting himself to the
greedy lion with a sort of pleasure. He wondered whether it would be the final
moment when the soul departs from the body. He only remembered the road
junction where he fell with his bicycle on his way home from the Public Service
Club in the hot sun.
He had looked at the mirror. His
face was torn by a side and the blood oozed on the bruised wounds. His lips
that got into the trap of his teeth were swollen in an awkward position. Seeing
contused bruises under his chin by the nail of the wall, his face itself
ridiculed him.
Suddenly, he heard gobbles of
voices approaching him fro nowhere. Headless voices surrounded him, prating him
as “ drunkard” and he flew in to a rage. He would have cut off heads with the
dagger drawing out of his wallet, as if they were physically present. Noticed
that the voices were passing slowly. He followed them. An old building with its
head severed , was seen. He observed the voices getting into the building like
a flood gushing into a large trench very fast. A man emerged out of him. He put
him aside and got into the building.
All that was strange and
unbelievable . It was a roofless building but it had occupied a very large
ground. He saw the same scars and bruises on the wall as that of his face.
There were cracks and openings here and there. Soon he entered the building
before he decided whether to go or not double-minded. He saw old chairs and
legless tables in six and sevens. Suddenly he looked down. And alas ! Human
waste all over here and there in heaps and heaps. Very carefully he walked
avoiding to tread on them. Step by step he walked towards the room where the
voices were still heard. Peeped through the window that was half closed. Suddenly
the moments that were lost, revived.
Those who gave company at the Public Service Club in the noon, were still there having drinks. Saba was bitterly crying
over the dead body of his wife who was shot dead when passing the Check
Point unnoticed the warning of the Armed Forces. Next to it was the dead body
of his daughter killed on the same day . Azeez was there and next to him,
Victor. He could not believe. Words fell on ground and broke away in English
everywhere. He fought the urge to move aside and sit down somewhere. There was
a table and a chair some feet away. He sat. A glass with half a bottle of arrack. Also some sandy and
cigarettes were there on the table. He sipped the drink. Took a cigarette and
smoked. He had the feeling that a part of his life was ending, the part that
held the fruits and flowers of the days gone by. He poured little more arrack
into the glass and sipped again. A soft voice murmured in his ear.
“ You did not inquire about me
since we parted away. Did you ? Do you know from how many persons did I inquire
about you ?..
“ Not correct dear. How can I
forget you. How can I forget the days we had been together..”
His mind groped into his diary in
which he had hidden her snap. He suddenly remembered that his wife tore the snap into pieces. He remained silent for a moment.
“ However, you have remembered
me only after you have received your
birth greeting that I had sent to you ..”
“ No dear, you are wrong. Not a
single day passed without remembering you, whether you believe it or not ..”
She cast around for what to say.
Yes, it is nearly 12 years since he or she had seen each other’s face except
the day he had seen her face at the Check Point. She seemed to be crying. He
had noticed the brimful of her eyes with tears. True that he had prayed that he
should not happen to see her at all. Until the day, he had met her in the bus,
his prayed was answered. He had sensed a strangeness in her appearance.
A sort of divine look with a sharp moon light reflected
on her face at the moment he looked at her. Yet her anguished eyes penetrated
into his heart. She looked nice in the same saree which he had once presented
on her birth day. Then she looked so
scared. Yesterday, he had happened to see a piece of her sharp hand writing which
he had hidden in an old diary as a
remembrance. Did she too have anything coming across her mind. His heart
clicked yes. Otherwise this remarkable coincidence would have never happened.
All in a few seconds. She got into the bus with her sister and found a seat
just behind his. Talked to her sister with few words of normal inquiries. And
he made his way to get off the bus with a heavy heart.
He decided to write a letter to her at last. He wondered how to start the letter. But no DEAR, DEAREST
Nothing. He wrote thus.
“ She still remembers you. She
sent you a greeting card on your birth day, hasn’t she ?
“Yes after 12 years….”
“Distance make love deeper.
Anyway, how did you feel when you had met her in the bus after so many years.?
“ I couldn’t believe my eyes. I
paused a bit and felt a sort of fear. But indeed, it’s a pleasant surprise to
me “
“She too would have felt the
same. By the way, where do you work now and what is your address ?’
“Why .. do you think that she
would write to me “
“May be sometimes “
“ OK this is my address.
XXXX xxxxxx , xxxxx
He sent the letter waiting for
the response with anxiety. To his utter surprise, he had received a thundering
letter almost calling him by names. She had addressed him as MR..
He wept in silence with a pain of
heart., wondering as to why her heart became so hard to write a letter of this
nature. Yet he hadn’t heart to blame her.
He was suddenly awakened from his reverie. He was in bed lying alone.
The book he had not finished reading, was still there near the pillow. Still
lying in bed, he turned the pages of the book and noticed the following lines
he carefully underlined.
“Time it seems must now be considered rubbery and elastic,
stretchable and relative under the influence of psychedelic drugs pressed by
sudden traumatic events or naturally in the dream of sleep. Modern man continues to report the experience
of timelessness or time compression where life time human experience are
vividly relieved or played back in a few brief seconds.”
He wrote this poem.
THE GRIEF
Why do I now come to grief
From where does its root thrive
My legs walked, with my dolls
Made alive
Into the days of my childhood
There was one as truth and the
other as an untruth.
Still the root explores
Where to begin and where to end
I become the *mythical
swine
Digging down the ground beneath
I become the mythical bird,
flying into the clouds.
Oh, my little screwpine
flower, you uttered
A lie to me
Did you see the radicle root lying
In a pool, made of fragile glassy ideals.
Catching it, pulling it out
Only to have a handful of a half
And in pursuance of the other half, the earth
Groaned again and again
With the grief in pain.
With my crown raising higher and
higher on every peak
With my root taking down beneath
Towards the fact of existence
All words lashed out to me
Fall apart as dead leaves.
Blood oozed from lips torn
The plate of rice signed by my wife
Sat on the table with no words,
but
as sharpened knife,
And the glass of water, full of
my tears.
What next befell then
I lay fallen in a vacuum
Made by a flight of hundreds of
sparrows
At the pelt of a stone.
The dream that stopped half way,
slowly revives
Looking for the root
When I fall asleep with the
gently song of this poem.
* It refers
to a story in Hindu mythology
