Palm fronds and the sea,
snapshots of a land,
stored in memory -
distance is my destiny -
A consciousness translates
itself on alien shores,
a penance for a Karma
in some other world -
All around me is an utsav -
silent elephants tramp the
sky-line; song and dance
infuse the air - blue light
is trapped behind shut eyes
that open only to grey skies -
Somewhere a cuckoo coos…
II
Panic flies in dusky shades;
An exiled eye sheds bitter
tears at a burning motherland
that takes up arms in the
name of Eeshwar and Allah -
A muezzin's call mingles
with temple bells in some
forgotten niche, while fires
blaze and blood flows -
Dark rhythms rock the land;
I am drained empty,
only my words remain -
witnesses to black storms;
I am a distant satellite
to my bloody earth;
My tears are light that
travels on time;
I am a waning moon
on a night-flight to my
beloved shores -
Under a Manx night,
starlight peering through
the clouds, I transfer
the blood, the tears and
the heartache into words -
Within me, Eeshwar and Allah meet…
III
A coast drowns in swelling
waters, tidal waves arise and
an exile beats her breast;
Terror Sea has torn her womb -
flames devour her shores -
How will you awaken your
fallen sons, O Sea?
Your demons drown the air,
while you search for some
lost moon floating on
thunder and lightning -
I am the boy, who sets alight
a thousand funeral pyres;
I am the woman, with the
faraway look in her eyes;
I am the man, whose hope
died in his breast;
I am the priest in search of
lost Gods -
Come back Mother Sea,
bring back drowned hope
in your dancing waves…
A verse takes wing in prayer…
IV
Voices on the telephone,
words on the email -
links to a family, who
live in my thoughts;
I weep with the tears that
flow across the wires,
I celebrate with the joy
that rings; a hushed echo
sighs with time and
jasmine blooms perfume
the air; light curves into
darkness, shadows grow
and my mind wanders in
and out of places that live
only in the past…
Monuments rise in poetry…
V
Lost in a landscape between
the mountains and the sea,
amidst a cascade of languages,
I find my own -
Temple bells peal out from
the mists; fragrance of some
long-lost incense invades me;
Caught between here and there,
I coast in a sea of merging
histories and dissolving
geographies - but exile is
my shell - I myself have
built this exile around me,
with these hands that
ploughed the winds for
adventures in new worlds -
Now, only the prodigal lives
in my sky and home-thoughts
fly around in autumnal flocks -
I have crossed the seas with
Onam songs ringing in my
ears, mudras swaying on
my hands, Kathakali rhythms
dancing on my feet and the
Hanumath bhujanga safely
locked in my heart -
Actually, I have never left home….
< H5>Utsav - festival
Manx - as in Isle of Man
Eeshwar and Allah - God in Hindu and Islamic