What should I write

About it

when time has forgotten

to remember us

Staring across a

million light years

never knowing when

we would breathe in the morning

Which would finally arrive.

Was it a dream

Was I living elsewhere

When you coloured my gray sky

With an ink so dark

That even the sun smiled

Upon the rains here

In my fields of

Late blooms.



Inviting You..



I lay open

Gazing at helium

Losing its life

I am messing up

A harangue inside

My sloppy dark mind

Ready to punch

The slumber from beneath

The covers

Of fat, fiction and


I let myself lose

In your grip and hurt myself

In what you call

Your love

Your unrequited words

Thrust and sweat of

Your man

never will it be enough to

Cover my whole being

With what I could call as


But somewhere

in the dark realms of the core

Of the core

Of the molten earth

You hid like

a scent

I made love in

And I doused and revolved around

and about

and in and out

Until I died

And killed you in it

Now away with that helium

into an orbit

where light never saw the day.








Soul of a Shadow


*We all have our shadows. Long and casting, forever following, and it is the dark that brings out our twin from us. A physical form of our conscience.*

Varkey and Mary were shadows of each another. They didnt have shadows of their own. They were each another’s shadow. Stalking, encountering and falling into an ebb of silence whenever they cast each another with an elusive smile. Fragile shadows of one another that broke into shards of memories of what had gone and what little was left behind. They gave birth to one another and the world around them. Small for a bumpkin. Big for those who were alone. And yet here they were. In a corner of the world they never knew.

Yours truly always stalked. Yours truly always stared. Yours truly always gazed with what she thought were excellent binoculars for her eyes. Well yours truly and certain other things in life will never change. It was my unexplained pleasure in wondering what those two from another timeline were upto. Sometimes I wondered whether their hands still smelled of the fish they had for lunch. Sometimes I longed to hear what they would sound like reprimanding their grandson. Sometimes I wondered if their hunch stooped more and if it hurt them to walk to their beds. Sometimes I wondered if they were ever going to look back with a smile of knowing me all their lives.

They had sons, they had grandchildren. They had plants and a big white house. They had their wicker chairs and old rosaries. They wore white yet felt black because they thought they were invisible. Till they died they never knew how unfathomable the colour was. That black let you lose yourself in it. That black enraptured. That black snared you into its magic.

Yet here they were, Varkey and Mary, old and wrinkled, small and humbled, two souls of a lost world casting shadows longer than their struggles, at each another,waiting for an unborn child to call their own. To turn up like Jesus.

“Mary, nammale kaanaan aarum varilla. Nammal karuthu chulinja vayasaayavar alle.”

(“Mary, nobody will visit us. We are old, dark and wrinkled folks.”)

This is what yours truly had ever heard of them.

Until they left for a better place to build a new house, a new life, a new world.Miles and miles apart.

While I nourished the new world in my arms.



When I dream



I dissolve

I fly

I sink

I cry

I pretend

I live

I turn red

I am shy

For when

I dream

I am disrobed

Of the life that

I learned

To live with

And I tumble

Back to the station

Still room

Filled with nothing

and mirth of swines

Oh when I dream

I meet souls

And Gods

And lunatics who

Laugh and cry

With all their might

So when I dream..


Oh how I wish

Someone would pay me

For dreaming

So high

So lot.


So when I dream

Of dancing in the rain

When the four eyes stare it


Through the looking glass

I paint

Another world

Where someone, somewhere

Yet me

Is alone, away

Afar and gay.