Rain brought wind;
wiind brought moonshine
and moonshine brought wind
The fourth day of Nalacharitham.
In the backdrop of
the speech-less
deep dissatisfactions
of love,
the strands of rain
faltered to tell
some mystic secret
Drenched and dripping
the rain in its boiling passion
yearned to hold the wind
in its tight embrace.
Drinking the blood of moonshine
like an amorphous amoeba
the wind assumed
colossal proportions
The knights of moonshine
wearing the insignia of the
rain were getting wounded
in battles of jungle wind.
Rain lined up a thousand
guards to receive the sky
on its return from pilgrimage.
Disheartened by its vain search
of gods of wind
the moonshine finally fell
in love with rain.
Unaware about the gender
the rain opened up its heart:
“oh how long since we
had our journey together!
but we never recognized
each other”.
In the bygone past
I had had lives of a priest,
a parrot, a knight and
a banyan tree.
And what about you?
Gathering the pieces of
the different lives
I started painting
images of
surrealistic
existence;
There was my mother, my sisters
They all come alive
As I muse about the
gates where
I had fallen in love, romanced
and cried,
The dead souls
came back to life
as sunrays;
The wind turned into
a thousand souls
whispering to the leaves
the tales of my previous births.
They are taking nostalgic
shelter in twigs;
to escape from whom?
The daytime hunters, robbers,
or couriers of love?
When memories die down
the buzzing sound was not that
of cicadas;
The butterflies
were fleeing
at the sound of approaching
rain from afar.
I painted a few nudes
of wind;
A leaf from the memoirs
of moonshine
landed on the sprawling
shores of rain;
The symbolic images
of wind preferred to
keep aloof without
uttering a word;
Even that was poetic
The rain, moonshine
and the wind merged together
forming a single carpet;
the rain was blue,
wind was white
and the moonshine
was green.
When night came
rain emptied blue
and withdrew into
the skies as an oil
paint;
Wind was trying
to imitate the silence
of a primordial reptile
while the moonshine set out
on its covert
night pilgrimage.
trans:saj mathews
