The Voyage Begins....

And I set my eyes upon her,
Duly escorted, by her father, the king
Of legions of men. A marquee masked her face,
Beautifully crafted by the chief craftsman of her land
And hand woven by the maidens with silk strands.
As the marquee so her face, both handmade.

Bearing the crest of her country, a prancing pony,
I was admiring the subtle art, that showed,
The vigor of the pony, its ambition and joy,
When it moved in the breeze, I could see her.
Never had a man begged more for a breeze
In the chill springs of the grasslands than me.

And there she was my breeze, my own warm drift,
To remove the chillness of the weather and the whether,
To offer counsel and to console, there she was;
A smile here, full of mischief, and a glance there, with caution,
A kiss blown across, brought promptly and with secrecy,
Straight to me and not to the prancing ponies around her.

Ponies that were kept away, for their own safety,
To save them from death caused by unnatural jealousy,
Jealousy aroused by catching thieves in the act of crime,
The crime of making love, lovemaking of eyes and lips,
They stood, grazing around in the bushes, the upper brushes,
Oblivious to what happened deep below the greenery.

She gifted me her pony, doe-eyed like her,
Valueless, unlike the diamonds of earth and blood;
Handing over the marquee of her father’s kingdom.
Her land was mine, her hand was in mine.
One, a burden of responsibility, a living to make,
Another, a burden of love, a life to share.

I held the prancing pony in my hands,
It was mine now, to hold, and to behold,
Though my heart was not with the pony,
It was rather, with the doe, the most elegant one,
More than compensating, for my lack of it,
Making the perfect stag and doe of Love’s Forest.

The forest had grown bigger, with the doe joining the stag,
She bowed down, taking those eyes away from me,
Stealing my life’s breath away, was it respect or fear?
Or was it deference, to the new crown that adorns me?
I should be uncrowned and freed from the misery,
I’d rather die on a wooden cross among the thieves.

I know that no seat waits for me on His right,
But to face your aversion, to not have a place in your heart?
I’d rather rest my tired head on the cool flames of Hell.
What is kinghood, if your kingdom hates you?
The land I rule over lies under my feet.
But the land I want to explore lies in my eyes.

More to explore, much more to be explored,
Explorations, not merely of land and earth,
Voyages into newer territories, not on the fair seas,
But through those dark gates, dark and deep,
That keep calling out my name, keep drawing me to them,
Though I don’t know if I will ever come back.

Not that I want to come back, for I don’t.
I will make this journey, without a map;
I want to get lost in there, in through the dark gates,
I want to get lost in the land that is You.
And if my crown is a hindrance, I shall enter
The uncharted territory as a mere man.

In there, it makes no difference if I’m prince or pauper,
For there are no kings in paradise, only angels,
And an angel you shall be, no doubt, to me.
I make an attempt to find out, if I am an abomination;
On my knees, looking eagerly up at her face,
The approval I seek is right there, as our eyes smile back at us.

The dark ocean spins raven waves of her hair,
Dark tresses that frame a fair face,
As fair as the moon amidst dark clouds,
With eager eyes, and lips that keep talking,
Lips that talk without moving an inch,
While the eyes do all the work.

Now is the time, to engage those lips,
To make them work as much as those eyes,
To take me forward into those dark gates,
Make this kingdom a part of me and me, a part of it.
For we are nothing without the other,
The flower and the bee that need each other to exist.

The efficient sailor in me, navigates his ship,
Through channels rose hued like the sunset,
In the light from those dark beacons, that beacon me in;
There shall not be any more kingdoms to conquer for me,
Only voyages to explore, voyages of love into the Garden of Eden.
Voyages as my ship rides over the waves of pleasure that surround it;

Do not wait for more details on my voyage;
Go find your own and start sailing on the high seas,
For it is in such voyages that life is lived.
Find your darkness in sunrises, or light in sunsets,
Even if you don’t find either, may you find peace
In the depths of the sea.

Dreaming Under A Dull Moon

A translation of a poem by Bharathiyar, to know more about Bharathiyar, click here

As I dozed off under a sleepy moon,
I had this dream.
A lass, in her sweet sixteen,
A face bright like the rising full moon,
A smile, that the moon appreciates and envies,

A body like a flash of lightning, she appeared,
“Stop sleeping! Look at me!” she said,
I woke up right away and…..
And……then it hit me…what a blessing!
I was looking at the Goddess of Beauty!

So I asked her, “Will fate or intelligence win the race?”
She replied “fate is a mere instrument of human intelligence”
I wondered if I would get what I desired and prayed to her for,
With a cynical smile, she said “mayb one or two in four might come true”
And with the smile she was gone, while I dozed off, lost in more dreams.

Let's Keep Walking...

Yes, on this road where you walk,
Yes, this is where sat a child,
Missing her body in half and her mom, in full.
But, let’s keep walking.

There, the house with the caved in roof,
That is where soldiers decided to make love, not war,
Breaching a Tamil river with several Sinhala streams
But, let’s keep walking.

The peaceful smiling Buddha you pray to,
Is accessory to the murder of the War God Muruga,
Who renounced life, failing to protect his people,
But, let’s keep walking.

Lotuses have replaced roses and lilies,
Habitat adaptation... with pools of blood to grow in,
Tinted with blood, they decorate the newly built Viharas,
But, let’s keep walking.

The trench you step into, in there,
Stood a medic, with a shovel instead of syringe,
For there is nothing to treat in dead bodies and mass graves.
But, let’s keep walking.

The sea waves that kiss your feet,
Also hugged into their bosom, women,
With unborn babies, shot as they fled,
But, let’s keep walking.

The wall you sit on, to take a breather and relax,
Once walled a hospital, eager moms and new born babies,
The wall was not a shell as mortar, and is all that’s left,
But, let’s keep walking.

The new posh hotel you are staying in,
Was the summer home of a Tamil family,
Told over their bodies that it had new owners,
But, you can enjoy the accommodation now.

The view outside your window is beautiful,
Blue skies and green trees dotted with white tents,
Tents where the men are killed and women, impregnated.
But it is time for you to sleep now.

We shall go to another town tomorrow,
No place averts visitors in this tourist country,
Though I can’t do much about the fact, that,
The only stories these places have are about the dead.

But you, the living man, need not bother, for you have won,
By crushing, not mere voices, but also the throats that spoke.
The armed lion will continue to attack unarmed sheep,
But let’s keep walking.