Works of RK

Every time I take this road, my sense of direction fails me. It annoys her no end. You see, there is a turn by the local temple, that leads me to her place; and then there is this another turn right before the milk booth, it leads me to a house with tiled roofs and a Tamarind tree. It is a dead end. That lane ends before this house. Why do you have to take the wrong turn all the time, she screams. Her voice can be shrill when she is agitated. There is something here that confounds her. Why, why would I drive into this lane instead of the next one? We have lived many lives my dear. Who knows why this house draws me to itself? What if long before your lane became central to my life, I had other lanes to call my own? How would you know? How would I know?

Have you heard a cat cry. It sounds so much like humans. I remember the cry of a mother cat who had lost one of her kittens. She cried for three straight nights. Moaning, shuddering, cursing, but mostly, talking to herself about her loss. Until that night, I had not known that cats have feelings too. I was too young then. Her loss worried me no end. Each night when the moans started, I and my sister would hug each other and go to sleep. It has been many years since I lost my grandmother. The heart is forever in mourning. Life finds a way to live but the wailing never stops. Some losses are inexplicably difficult to come to terms with.

In the heart of darkness rests An unquenching desire for light. In silences that stretch Beyond unreasonable memory A cry of a shout sheltered remain Deep within the angst of time. Wake me up When this life is done Let the forever time begin In another lifetime.

When I was a kid, I used to frequent Tauseef's house. I am very poor with memories. There is some sort of auto flush that wipes them away. I neither retain the good ones nor the bad ones. I have a past that is forever under construction. Its an open canvas, I paint it at will. But I remember the Gauraiyyas (Indian Sparrows). Tauseef's house was always full of them. Little chirpy birds that kept pecking on the dining table or sitting right next to aunty and waiting for her to drop them some grains. They would flit about all over the place. I don't remember any of those big celling fans ever being switched on in Tauseef's place. The gauraiyyas were always safe in his place. When I started working on plantations some 16 years ago, I always kept fowl at the managerial bungalow. There was this ill tempered gander, two insufferable flying ducks, dozens on hens...but no sparrows. There were no sparrows in Kerala and you could not buy a sparrow, a sparrow can never be owned. Th

Come away from the realm of sanity There is no reason why you and I Should live this profanity! Let's fly away To the land where fairies live And in the clouds of candies Let's be 18 again. I can hear the bells ringing I can even hear late Sr Anne Sitting by the choir singing. There is a hint of red In the forever horizon again Soon it will be that time of the year When you will find it easier To believe!

I look at her sashaying across the aisle. There is a bounce in her gait. The pony tail hair keeps yoyoing like a pendulum. Every time she speaks, she looks straight into my eyes. There is a glint of fun a hint of mischief. There is devil dancing in her eyes. My dear, you make it worthwhile for a million of us to fly.

The ships that pass through the night, Also await Some bit of redemption From the constant slaughter Of the waves.

Stay a while A wee bit more. Let this night collide With the might Of a bright summer day. Let it gradually merge Into its nemesis. Let us, you and I Pull this night through Let this darkness subside. There are stories from the time You and I were alive And lived separate lives. I want to hear them All over again.

Like a seed I can lie dormant Waiting for eons for the winds to blow in Clouds of thundering showers soaking Me unto gentle awakening. Like a pollen I can drift Across oceans and seas of despair Across the pathos of everyday living Over dead dreams and forsaken friends Over missed opportunities and love gone wrong Over strife and pain and hunger and hard times Until it is time to gently land Onto a loving caring Wonderland.

I have a picture of you looking into a one of those funny mirrors. This pic is a reflection of you in the mirror. You have one big grin on your face and this is the most beautiful pics that I have of you. I have visited that place many times later. I have stood before that mirror and made faces. I have even asked those who have accompanied me to stand before the mirror and smile. That mirror has never again reflected a smile a beautiful as yours.