Monologues of a Moth

I always thought I would turn into a beautiful butterfly. Instead I’ve become an ugly black moth, now dead behind that cold door hinge. Wings which once fluttered are being bitten off diligently. My tiny fragile body, all dried up and still, waiting to be eaten away. Scarred once by burning brightness, I shied away…

Remembering Nusrat

The tempo rising steadily, the chorus matching up with the fast notes and then, Nusrat’s voice hits an ecstatic high.  Inadvertently I close my eyes. “Allahoo hoo… Allahoo.. allah” slowly fading into background. If it had not been for my father’s broad music taste, which I thought was a bit bizarre(even eccentric) during my childhood because he chose…

Tribute

A red stream of words cascaded along the screen announcing your untimely grim departure Your lifeless body splayed across the steps haunting every pair of eyes. I cannot help but wonder, Did you smell death lurking in the darkness of your porch Or did it spring upon you like the weather of Bangalore unpredictable and…

It did matter

6.30am. The blue bus screeches, coming to a sudden halt in front of my house. The sky would have just started to bleed and I would walk past the wooden gates to the doors which jolted open. If you are lucky, you can sleep through quiet music. Else drowsy, half asleep, singing along “Crawling” under…

Tethered

You flutter and stutter, Tethered to my finger In blue, red and yellow Your dance moves linger, Fly high my love, But what do you see? Beyond the swollen sea What do you see? A meadow, a hill or a forlorn figure? A hope, a dream or a lost old fevour? A promise, a mistake…

Bengal Diaries (I)

West Bengal rings as Rasagullas, Rolls, and Rabindranath Tagore. But the truth is West Bengal which was once the capital of British India has much more to it than what it is stereotyped for. This balmy state on the east homes not only India’s Nobel Laureate, Rabindranath Tagore but also several other intellectuals and reformers….

Up close with Bangalore – Koshy’s 

It’s been more than half a decade since I set my foot in this small, over crowded, yet feel-at-home-city -Bangalore. I had come here with the intention of going back to my native “soon”. And soon has been running its six year. Having stayed here for quite sometime, I’ve upgraded from Kannada gothilla to Kannada…

A random post

A random day in a random year. My wall has been littered with advertisements, campaigns, rants, pictures and all kinds of relevant and irrelevant information. Oh sorry, forgot to mention, Facebook ‘wall’. I scrolled up and down aimlessly on my computer screen. For most of the Malayalees, elections are high on priority. Pictures of streaked…

The estranged daughter

“Really? You write in Malayalam? But why? How?” Many a times I have been asked this question and sadly, I still fail to give a concrete answer. The truth is, at times, I’m drawn into this inexplicable urge of writing in Malayalam. The obscure pleasure I get when I breath life into words and those words…

Confessions of a red rose

I get drunk on the showers, And sway in the cold breeze, But know that, its your presence That I wait for everyday Oh do not be sulky I stay tightly curled Weary of strange hands, And walled by callous thorns, For its on your care, that I unfurl And your love that I spread…