You fiddle with my heart
But the music is not heard of
Its the cry of the night
Of the waning moon
The scream of the tides
Of the roaring seas
The rumble in the sky
Of the burning stars
The whistle of the wind
Scrubbing the dandelions
Loud yet unheard.
Author: Nirmal
The ghost of the house lizard
The lizards are not that harmful. At least to humans I guess. But still we develop an incorrigible fear or hatred toward the inconspicuous species. They eat the pests pestering us but still pester us by their mere presence. I’m not going to judge you for loving them, they might deserve some, but I definitely hate them like the herd.
I checked the expiry date on the multi grain bread packet as I picked four slices to toast and butter up and soak it in honey. Just as I picked the pan lying on its back with yesterday’s leftovers still in its underbelly, sneaked out the lone lizard that has been squatting in my house. I mostly ignore it’s presence and as a courtesy I believe it never made any noise. It could have been mute or may be being alone in that house so long it had no purpose or reason to make a call. Well today I can’t ignore it. It is a sore thing to see in the morning and up close with the fear of it in the proximity and the chances of contact only scares you, makes you jump too. I did. As I tried to chase it away, it kept crawling between the spaces within those metals and plastics spread around the counter. It can’t blame me for it getting behind the chopping board leaned against the wall, just convenient enough for me to tap it against the wall jamming it between. Losing the board was worth having a peaceful breakfast without any lizard in sight. Well you can wash the board for reuse but you can’t remove the stain etched in your neural synapses.
As the toast was burning over the pan, the assumedly dead lizard, came walking like Lazarus out of the pit. I’m not Jesus. I just covered the stupid thing with a plastic cup. We had two hammers that was just rusting. Laying it over the cup to trap there lizard would be a better purpose for it to serve this morning. Then I had my honey toasts.
It’s been two days. There was no mourning for the lizard. Are there any way to send it off to the other side, we’ll never know. Where do the ghosts of lizard go? I wondered as I checked my crooked wisdom teeth for leftover meat. And suddenly I felt something running over my hands and pulled it away to get a better view. And slowly turned my gaze to the mirror, with the realisation of the horror of watching that pale thing slip into my still open mouth.
ஆசை
உன் ஆழ்ந்த சிந்தனைகளில் மூழ்கி
அதில் ஒளிர்க்கும் முத்தை தேடிடவேண்டும்.
உன் எரிக்கும் கோபத்தில் கரிந்து
அதை கலைக்கும் வைரம் ஆகிடவேண்டும்
உன் மௌனத்தை கலைக்கும் சிரிப்பை
நானே வித்திடவேண்டும்
உன் கண்கள் கரையும் துளிகளை
இருகரத்தால் ஏந்திடவேண்டும்
உனை வர்ணிக்க ஓர் நாளாவது
நான் கவியாகிடவேண்டும்
அதை நீ பாடும் பொழுதினில்
நான் தமிழாகிடவேண்டும்
நரைகூடி நடைபழக கடற்கரை மனலில்
நாம் தத்தி தடுமாறி கரம்தழுவ
ஒருபோல் எண்ணங்கொண்டு இன்றை
இதை எண்ணி நகைத்திடவேண்டும்
Conversations with her
“So whom do you talk to in all these conversation that you have while you are writing this?”
“You, of course, who else is here?”
“But who am I? Just a pigment of your imagination. A self satiating bot who would respond to your thoughts they way you want to!?”
“No, you are a whole person. As alive as any person walking around in their flesh”
“But I don’t have flesh or blood. I don’t exist beyond this conversation. One time I’m in your mind and the next I’m in some random persons mind as a totally different person as they read it. I’m suddenly their idea of a person or rarely I’m just a person that you picture in your crazy head. But I’m seldom complete. I don’t embody anyone. I’m just a few pieces of words stitched together. Thanks to you, I’m mostly meaningless”
“No, you are not. You are meaningful to me. And you mean a lot to me. I don’t know about the reader, but I do know that you exist within me. May be not a entity on your own but you do exist all the time. You should realise that”
“But what is the need for me? Who am I to you? Just a picture of person you like to picture!? May be I’m here till that moment you meet this person and have this conversation with her.”
“You are that person. The one I want to meet. You are not a different person after I meet that one. You don’t go extinct once I meet her. Nor do you come alive when that person moves on. You exist all the time, in me, as a whole person, within me. You are the girl that resides in my heart. You don’t fulfill my needs. I try to meet your demands. You don’t set a bar for a person, an idol I seek. You are that person with their mistakes, imperfect. I hope like as you exist within me, somewhere I exist in someone’s heart. Like I’m part of that conscience or soul, and more of a body here. And may be one day we connect and become each other within each other. Like a subset within a set that is still overlapped. It doesn’t matter if we connect within our lifetime. I’m more than happy to have you within me. And I can only hope she’ll too.”
போதை
அவள் செவிகளில் விழ வேண்டிய கவிதைகளை
இங்கே தட்டி நான் விட்டெறிகிறேன்
இந்த பொழுதுகள் கழியவே
தேனாயில்லாவிடினும் புளித்து மதுவாய் மாறு
போதை ஒருநாள் தீரும்
அன்று பருகுகிறேன்.
Explore.
I like to get out more. Explore.
The ceiling in the room I stand in, is not so tall, I’m already hitting the floor. I need more space to grow.
I need to get out and collect more colours for my palette, for it has become very boring, monotonous.
I need to go chase the sun at dawn and dusk, for all the oranges and red. I need to dive deep and drink the ocean to filter out all the blues from the teal and put them in separate bottles. For the green, I think the forests would suffice. But I may need to wait around from spring to autumn to catch them brown too. As far all the whites are concerned, it’ll be a day in the snow. And for the black, I might need to dig deep into my soul. I hope I wont need it anymore.
I have to meet new people and talk endless about their struggles and aspirations and life, for I’m tired. I think It’ll put me to sleep, listening to all their boring stories. For all the mediocrity a man can consume might even strengthen me for the next day. So I can wake up fresh and listen to their dreams. And get drunk on their madness.
I hope to walk long stretches, across beaches, along the cliffs, through the forests, upon the mountain and down the valley. And find a lake that has been waiting for me since the beginning of time, gathering stories and waiting for this moment just to enrich this night for me. Along it’s bank will I lie, listening to the lake sway, staring into the sky, naming the stars with every people in my life. Everyone deserves a star, for everyones life is a struggle.
And It’d help if you were there, right by me. All along the way perhaps. It’d make us. And the whole time worthwhile.
Hug’em out
I’m the guy who hugs the wall. Cause it feels so cold and might need some warmth
I’m the guy who hugs the floor. Cause nobody pays it the attention it deserves.
I’m the guy who hugs the fan. Cause it’s spinning madly around the clock and needs to be told that everything’s going to be fine.
I can take the sun’s anger, the rains sadness, the winds sorrow, the clouds murmur and the waves anxiety. But I can’t take these silences, the unspoken emotions that need to be heard.
Pay attention to the silent cause they might have a lot to say. Nothing you haven’t heard of. But need to be heard nonetheless.
Afterthoughts
We emote our feelings over and over to the point it becomes numb. Joy or sorrow, we are enthralled by the rush the first time it hits you, and then we try to relive that very moment again and again, in a loop. We finally end up feeling nothing at all, almost as if that’s how we are supposed to feel. Even I got scared that this has become a routine, I could feel the numbness breathing down my neck. Tying me into one end and coiling itself to launch me into the space, looping the routine.
I could feel how purposeless that would be, like life is not purposeless enough. You stay in order like the bottled juices on a counter of a shopping mall. All in order like they have somehow figured out entropy. Every one of them has a date set to them. A day where they wouldn’t be of any use to anyone. And I imagine how that night would be? Would they all just realise at some point the emptiness of their purpose and as it hits midnight, they would just jump off the counter one by one? Just to clear up the space they have been occupying. It makes me all so sad. Now let’s go save those fuckers before they jump off that cliff.
அணைப்பு
உன் கரங்களுக்கிடையே என்னை அணைத்திருக்க
உன் மார்புகளுக்கிடையே முகம் புதைத்து
அழும் கண்ணீருடன் என் துன்பங்கள் கரையப்போவதில்லை
ஆனால் இன்றைய இரவுக்கது போதுமானதாகிறது
What are your dreams made of?
What are your dreams made of?
Are they rich in texture, like the beach sand? Are they mellow like the pink ice cream that tastes like strawberry? Are they sweet like the smell of the first monsoon? Are they as colourful as your memories from your childhood? Are they filled with your dreams from your waking life? Are they reminiscent of the life you wish to wear? Are they refill of your fantasies, to get you past another day? Are they dark as the other side of the moon? Are they vivid as the stars of the dark sky? Are they haunting you like a bug under your sheet? Are they as good as you wish? Are they daunting you as the flying kite that you can never seize?