This Window and I
(Naanum Indha Jannalum)
The wind drags
flocks of birds across the sky
on this rather inconvenient,
rainy day.
More scintillating
than the scintillating colours
of the birds, the sky.
A streak of lightning
caresses the expanse and disappears.
A mountain burns bright
at the far end of sight.
Outside the window
the moon that brightens
and grows bigger,
is refused entry
by the electric lamp inside.
This rain falls gently,
sends shivers up the spine
and scathes raw wounds within.
As the faraway mountain
and its largeness
dissolve in the rain,
the cold damp moves in
across the body.
Beetles seek the inside with me
to keep their wings dry.
Only the dragonflies wander.
(Shobhana Kumar and K. Srilata, ‘Oru Maalayum innoru Maalayum’)
Lake
(Eri)
Once dark and pining,
the lake’s face is still now.
No sign of a ripple.
A few days ago,
you hurled
without a moment’s hesitation,
your empty wine glasses
into the lake.
It took them all in
without a murmur.
On another day,
you dipped your ashtray
in its waters
diffusing even the ash.
Yesterday too,
you scorned and spat
into the waters, our love
which has turned bitter.
Heedless of seasons
or time,
you dumped into it
your waste,
cleansing yourself.
Letting all this
slip from memory,
you prepare to quench
your thirst today.
This is a lake —
not a river
that can carry away,
in the rush of its waters,
your impurities.
These waters,
stagnant without ripples,
will protect everything,
allow nothing to be lost.
(K. Srilata and Shobhana Kumar from ‘Pachchai Devathai’)
