Virginity

flesh says here

the soul though embrace

mind speaks no fear

while heart ties wit grace

culture scowls

the religion's mistress

society cry fouls

a forbidden distress

lust smokes

love keeps con

the pervert chokes

bliss stays born

thou grin loud

thee human race

tear the cloud

'Virgin' no maze!

bus paati

My lullaby to the 74 year old infant put her to sleep once for all. May be she was tired not with my voice but the world at large which she had fought all along. I sang, not once but all that I could know... My notes were off the place completely clouded by a heavy heart. She was listening to it all from her baby himself, who was always her pride more than her sons. Bus paati, my breath, was on her way to eternity as I witnessed the horrifying pain that tore her heart apart. A moment, that marked my re birth and her skin deep humane exit.

‘Why are you weeping, you’ve got to face life, come what may’ smiling words which the lady spoke minutes before the call from heaven. Death is inevitable and yes it did rip her flesh in an intense momentary agony. What stood out was her response, a spit on the non human gutless ‘demon’ that every living being fears the most. I held her hand and kept greedily listening to the voice which I best knew from my infancy. Sentences fragmented into words, got pulled apart into letters and syllables, on to frightening bizarre phonemes and finally decibels went down flat.

Tears rolled down my cheek, limbs were paralyzed, brain went dormant and heart completely hardened….”paati…paati….bus paati….” Never had I cried so loud, neither the doc nor the nurses stopped me, why the hell they did n’t dare to? My heart then would ve exploded violently into arteries and veins and I would have reduced to a few liters of blood remains. Rather I still existed...Kissing her, hugging her and lying beside her, for I knew she will be put in a peaceful cold environment for an overnight ‘exhibition’ then on.

Her life filled face was motionless. Peace written all over. I closed my eyes and felt her mortal presence one last time. Those toothless cheeks and the funny flat nose were right there bringing back 26 years of our ‘moments’ together. Movies, poetry, literature, music, geography, values, thoughts … ‘we’ lived our LIFE as two hearts that beat together. Her DEATH made us ONE.

I would have to wait until my flesh disintegrates to meet this soul again, and I will never be able to understand in the form I m in right now. I can be loved by most but not MORE than what my bus paati did.

‘LOVE YOU bokkai…..’

Visual Orgasm

she paralyzed me
the seductive eyes
with skin that fumed
redefining all lies

pearl cladding ears
thin 'sharp' nose
slimy pink lips
a sensual 'hungry' repose

the bestowed wildness
rich geometric curve
slender long thighs
sculpture that invited verve

a moment when organs
exchanged their 'vision'
my notorious eyes
led the noble 'mission'

Meenakshi smiles!

I just could not take it. , wept from within listening to the scream. I felt as if someone had smacked me with an iron rod right on my head. Could sense blood oozing and draining out, as fast as a gushing stream of river. I’ve heard fearful bed time stories on evil, and always dreaded its illusionary voice. Has it happened in real, now? Did it descend to earth or have I started listening to nonexistent ‘objects’? Meanwhile I heard her shout yet again “Ayo, valikarthu…ahh…ahh...enna vitudungo” (means it pains please leave me).

What could have gone wrong? 4800 square feet of her land built into a big bungalow, retired son (Mani) and daughter in law (Latha), granddaughters married and settled in the gulf, 11k rent, pensions…yet…why such a horrible thing? I stay upstairs with my family and this has become an ordeal every day. I went down and she was there, raising her hand to me. Gosh, there she was, the 91 year old ‘baby’ beaten to agony. Bruises everywhere, forehead bleeding, Meenakshi spoke with her feeble voice. “enna adichuta” (she hit me)

Looking back, I got to know that she had victimized Latha many a time, playing a perfect ‘mother in law’. And as déjà vu as it sounds, she was getting back the ‘return on hatred’. Was Latha exploiting a flawed constitutional right to bath her in blood with such barbaric treatment? Or quietly giving the poor ‘paati’, a piece of her age old merciless medicine? Either ways, not happening. Meenakshi hopefully gets mercy killed, but I was not ‘yama’ to end her misery. Instead I decided to take on Latha, with my perennial naughtiness, which has by now, changed from a nascent potential to a competent weapon.

Twice, I scolded her on her face and warned that I will expose her to the media. Fortunately, my program on NDTV Hindu was aired recently. Another one followed in a few days. She saw me talking in one of those ‘Chennai Speaks’ and ‘U Special’ segments, and believed that I’m indeed a cult figure in media. I also showed her one of the TV editor’s business card to keep her on toes. Funny as it may sound, yet has brought a profound fear in Latha. She has started cooking frequently, and respectfully serving Meenakshi every day, unlike ‘Child’ labor earlier. No more whining or war…its peace treaty signed invariably against my stupid ‘soft threat’

I’ll keep up my drama meanwhile for times ahead. After all, Meenakshi has been spared of late… and yeah, I see her toothless smile every now and then.

darkness deciphered

kiss me hard
hug me tight
twilight hour
set me right


warm whispers
speaking silence
burning touch
oh your violence


sensuous mayhem
poetic breath
nude mystery
fear no death


finding me
In your soul sans flesh
Battle well begun
Keep up the mesh

Jessie

Is n’t the superpower an artist? I wonder. She is a living sculpture with 165 cm long slender body and undisputed aura surrounding her wherever she goes. And there is this intoxicating painful pleasant smile, which turns her pink especially when she is ecstatic. A smile akin to the moment a mother delivers her infant. To say that I’m blessed to be witnessing such a sizzling goddess may well be a cliché or a complete understatement

“Why do you keep calling me hopeless?” she asks me time and again. How do I answer this? For an absolutely girlish and inarguably pampered babe, I always wish she could be more than what she is right now. Eloquent danseuse and trained classical singer, she is a package of art, a complete delight to every sense organ. The laid back attitude is what holds her back. It surprises when she says she wants to live for the day and does not believe in too long a life. On the contrary, I wish I give her a quarter of my age, and she beautifies the whole human race with her mystifying and subtle demeanour

She is class apart the way she talks. A voice filled with saccharine, I could sense her smile when I talk to her on phone. With Infectious warmth that can make anyone weak on their knees, she is humility personified too. I just can’t think of a blot in her. She is indeed a complete sensation just meant for admiring and honing my own self, merely by quietly following her with due sincerity and respect to my speechless living soul.

My mirror has already been weeping, tired of seeing me frequently these days. I have turned conscious than ever before. . I have discovered my long lost shyness. And yes, I’ve fallen in love with myself.

Bowing down to her and her womanhood!

On my way------------->

I scratched my head completely caught short with number crunching yet again. On one hand, had my bench mate cracking the problem with such poise and on the other it was me, trying to weep my heart out on my ignorance. Variance in cost continued to be pain on my posterior lower apparatus. The guilt, of course, being that cover page of cost management book was yet to be seen, let alone the confusions and obnoxious concepts within. Yet I put up a brave face staring at the problem, with a desire as inviting as a neat virgin, calling me with darkness all around. Well,the artist in me can never agree for action half baked , visually challenged and deprived of the feast that’s supposed to be witnessed.

“I think I need to take this all over again. If a third ranker is struggling, I doubt if the message has reached yet” spoke the Dean. The great man had already taken the entire problem twice. And as always, I was blank absolutely incapable of even comprehending the basics. Dean was known for his magical ways of connecting with students and clearing ‘rocket science’ concepts in a lay man’s language. In spite, I was a written off entity within my mind, with a lid so closed that refused to open when it came to numbers. The only exception was the Aryabhatta’s invention which more often or not showed its ugly face on my evaluation.

“Include me too, even the class second lost in thoughts” a voice spoke up. Oh, what a pride she took in saying that, I wondered. May be she had done an invention in archaeology, launched space shuttle at NASA, found cure for a clueless pandemic or been a noble prize winner for peace. Ah wait a minute, my brains turned on and said… she had indeed been class second in the just concluded exams, and oh yes what an amazing feat that was. A record as funny as bringing the sky down or just another worthless babble confined to the stinking age old assessment techniques. Nevertheless, she was at least there blowing her own trumpet as loud as possible trying to garner attention with decibels as neatly structured as a hopeless cacophony!

With all said I struggled my way through and completed the given problems. By the time the session got done, I had decided that I’ve got to go all out, without the fear of falling flat on my face. The alter ego standing in as a devil within me had to be pacified. Well structured KRA was laid down for my own subconscious...” nothing short of commitment and hard work will take me through the safe waters” I spoke to myself. I might not break into top 5 or may be not even above class average, but I decided to kill the self created numero- impotency.

And yeah….without any inhibition, have started working towards cost and finance….absolutely undocked by the rat race and self proclaimed rotten claim to top in the class. A peaceful eager month waits before the actual knowledge test happens within me, the novice seeking a complete individualistic soul on this planet