Pick Pocket

Biju A R

Research Associate

School ofChemistry

She came to me with her magic touch,

taken away something, which is unclear.

I checked my pocket, nothing seems to be lost.

She had thick eyebrows and protruding teeth.

I felt lightness, with which gentle breeze could

blew me towards the zenith of the red horizon.

I saw many rich to whom she can approach,

even a single picking could run her whole life

but she came and gave me an enchanting look,

which was cutting my venules.

Bus stopped, I got down, still felt remnant lightness.

At last gleefully I recognized; I lost myself.

At the Peacock Lake

Jinju S.
M.A. English

The glassy blue of the fallen sky,
Creased with myriad ripples
That bound forth
To the waiting arms of the shore,
Like little children to their mothers,
Singing of peacocks and wild winds
That make the reeds, thickly spread
By the water's edge,
Dance in beauteous glee-
A wave of gold-tipped green.

And into my heart ecstasy drips,
Till I can swim in it-
Lake of bliss.

Night

The night speaks
In a thousand tongues
I cannot discern,
Rising above the cries of the crickets-
Midnight's minstrels.
Pale blue melting around
Feathery canopies reaching
For a trembling dawn.
Muted roars pulsating
In the night breeze
Charged with the cold
And peacock squawks.
And the swarthy goddess
Lets down her hair
And dances in a frenzy,
Punctuated with laughter
In a tongue I recognize-
Cold, hard, mirthless mockery.

Sleep walk (or a walk to/from the library at midnight)

Shijo Varghese
Former Student

In the night, my watch ticking away
My heart’s rhythm to the morrow
I woke up with stiffness
Between my thighs
The bladder, you know, must release
The tension of the buttermilk of my supper

I don’t believe urinals
Hypocrites, clad in white robes
They sieve out everything
Leaving bubbles and stench

I am afraid of trees
Trees, black monsters, conspirators
Whisper against me in the night
Because, in my every pilgrimage
To library and back to hostel
I piss deep at their roots;
The roots, you know, are very sentimental

In the night, my watch transferring
Its motion to my heart’s rhythm
I stopped
The wind breathing stopped
The trees whispering stopped
And I saw
A ghost
Gosh, a ghost!
Pale as moon with meteorite impressions
Eyes swollen with unkind sleep
(Just out of bed like me?)
A ghost indeed, still

A breeze gushed
To change its stance
My tension released through the stiffness
But, you know, one doesn’t sweat then

Grinning in melancholy
It spiralled and spiralled
Into a whirligig
Vanished through the pores of my hide
Leaving its pale hue and dry veins
Impressed on a plantain leaf
Dancing in the wind’s breath

ആകുലത

Ramya Balan K
PhD Hindi

പ്രിയപ്പെട്ടവളേ
എന്റെ പ്രണയാതുര നിമിഷങ്ങള്‍
നിന്നിലും അവനിലുമായി ഉഴറിക്കിടക്കുന്നു.
ഏകാന്തനിമിഷങ്ങളില്‍
ഞാനവന്റെ കാലൊച്ചകള്‍ക്ക് കാതോര്‍ത്തു.
നടുക്കമോ ഏതോ ഗൂഢമോഹമോ?
എന്നെ തേടിയെത്തിയത്
നിന്റെ കാലൊച്ചകള്‍!
എന്റെ തേങ്ങലുകള്‍
ഇടറിയ നിമിഷങ്ങള്‍
അവനന്യമെങ്കിലും
നിനക്ക് പരിചിതം.
കൊതിക്കുന്നത് നിന്റെ ആശ്ലേഷത്തെ.
പക്ഷേ
നമുക്കിടയില്‍ സമൂഹത്തിന്റേയും ലിംഗത്തിന്റേയും ഭിത്തികള്‍.
ഈ നിര്‍ണ്ണായക വേളയില്‍
ഞാന്‍ നിസ്സഹായയാണ്‌.