Sepia tinted memories

car games of the 90’s

nadirafromkannur

Certain memories have a strange way of remaining with you all throughout one’s life. Try as I will, I cannot fathom why they are still there from so long ago, while others just fade and then totally disappear.

What are my earliest memories?

I can remember cuddling up to my father as a little child, rubbing my face against the stubble on his cheeks and gently falling off to sleep, listening to the dull sound of the sea waves in the distance.  Some nights, when sleep wouldn’t come, I would stare at the pitch black square outside the windows and feel terrified of the figures that I thought I saw there. When it rained, the fear was multiplied, as the incessant sheets of the downpour would make the darkness more intense. On other  nights, however ,the moonlight  brought a kind of magic, transforming  everything. Even now, trees and foliage drenched…

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Love and Lullabies

The world needs a lullaby
To rock it softly to sleep
To croon to it’s nightmares
And lead them away to the deep

Dreaming through this dark night
Of snowflakes and sunny slopes
May be it will wake up again
To a bright new dawn of hope

 

The tree

The towering tree was sick
It’s branches brittle and leaves turned yellow
It’s spirit like a trembling wick
It’s roots so weak in the soil turned shallow.

The gnawing termites kept on and on
The dark thick trunk was a gaping hollow
The grass around and the homing birds
Sat with drooping heads and mood so mellow

Half asleep and half awake
The tree swayed laboriously and so slow
The sap still seeped through memories
In the hushed hours of twilight glow.

 

The lime woman

A dozen she counted
For the money I gave
And wrapped them up for me.
She smiled and I responded
Our familiarity made
Bargaining unnecessary.

We hardly ever stepped
Beyond those dealings
In lemons on Summer days.
And yet we kept
An easy knowing
As our unwritten essay.

(Picture borrowed from the internet)

 

It’s raining again

These pictures were clicked by a Facebook friend Abru Manoj. The little boy is his son Tanmay. “The rains are addictive” was Abru’s caption for the first photograph and “The rain is a kiss on the soul” for the second. I just took off from there 🙂

Tanmay’s expressions are always so very endearing and the father manages to capture them so well:-)

The rains are addictive
The way it smells when falling
On the dry earth

It holds me captive
With its outpouring
That grows in height and girth.

I stay stuck to the windows
To watch it drenching
The slender pepper vines

And to wait for the wet crows
As they take their time assembling
On the swaying electric lines

I wonder what they’re saying
The palm fronds and the breeze
And those clouds look all ready
To burst into a sneeze.

That white stork in flight
From earthly leanings freed
Revelling in his solitude
Across the paddy fields

I wonder why the wind
Won’t stay put in one place
And why the trees nod their heads
To everything that it says .

 

Conversations

The stream chatting with the mountains
The breeze lending its ears
Confused they were with borders
And with mortal fears.

They try to dam(n) my freedom
Gurgled the chirpy waters
They blast us to deform
Said the slopes with cynical laughter.

Well, at least I’m better off
I still roam where I will
The breeze blew kisses to the ripples
And the meadows and the hills.

But hey , you still could have some fun
Just do a jiggle with your plates
You’ll see them run for cover
When they see a river in spate.