Mahfuuz

My little place in space. Read my words...and to know me, leave your mark.

Name:
Location: India

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

[Villanelle] Lament

Is this a boon or a bane?
Define, my state, I cannot
I think I am in love again

To sleep, I shut my eyes, in vain
Twist and turn on my cot
Is this a boon or a bane?

I am the last one to complain
But my heart goes on a trot
I think I am in love again

No overt joys, no pain
Yet, my stomach gets knot
Is this a boon or a bane?

‘fore you yawn, let me explain
This is not that usual plot
I think I am in love again

It was Mary, Judith and then Jane
Now I find Margaret hot
Is this a boon or a bane?
I think I am in love again


Vijay © 30th March, 2006

[Translation] Songs of the Tree

Only the birds of low flight
know the contours of earth
The wails of uprooted trees,
the sound of tears streaming down,
is only audible to them
The winds talk to them

The Tree says to the birds-
When I die,
keep my mortal remains facing the winds
You can then hear the winds singing,
that I loved you

A poem in Malayalam by Zubair
Translation by Vijay © 18th March, 2006

[Translation] Words?

When like the rains
you shower your love on me,
why do words get meaningless?
In what words should I then
express my love for you?

The words, only known
to those meditating peacock feathers
ensconced within the confines
of the Novel I loaned you
Those words, how would I know?

Bear with me
for keeping my love
within my heart.

A poem in Malayalam by Paul
Translated by Vijay © 17th March, 2006

Monday, March 27, 2006

[Verse] Invite





Where ripples of a drop jingle like anklets
where the lake wears a crimson blanket
camouflaged, to escape wrath of a setting sun
where autumn leaves chuckle at your feet
tip-toeing behind to cup my eyes with your palm
and the cuckoo echoes our thoughts

Away from the rattling rhythm of the 7.30 local
alien to the deadlines staring at our face
removed from the cries of the vegetable-vendors
still untouched, unscathed by carbon-monoxide
safe from synthetic shadows of skyscrapers
empty coffers and asphyxiating expenses

in tranquility we will find the answers we seek

Vijay © 27th March, 2006

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Delhi - 22nd March, 2006 - Sunrise

A beautiful sunrise I witnessed while driving home early morning.



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[Verse] Survival

Household chores over,
a handbag in tow
she runs, boards the morning bus
spends hours buried in files

A coarse throat
belts out the latest chartbuster
drumming up a rhythm
on an empty stomach

Outside, with a licensed official gun
he searches out victims
Their wails, loud protests
drowning the crack of gun-shot

Tatters barely covering his torso
in torn trousers, with a bowl in hand
a blank face smeared in tears,
treads many miles a day

Clothes peeled, one by one,
she sizzles and gyrates
in front of lecherous eyes,
blinded by psychedelic lights

The pitfalls of being born
in a strife-ridden world
a mammoth effort to survive
Darwin smiles

Vijay © 25th March, 2006

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

[Verse] Reverie

Into its arms, scoops wind, the autumn leaves
Rustling, they surrender to its chilly charm
Besides the slow flame of an oil lamp,
in its commodious penumbral comfort,
into my welcome shoulders, you recline
From the calm contours of a quiescent tranquil face,
your eyes search for something in my eyes
The pleasure of a new found treasure,
enfolded in safe confines, your eyes close
In anticipation, on your brow, sweat beads bud
Night drizzles past semi-closed windows,
dampening playful half-drawn curtains
The sweet scent of soil, soaking in the rain,
wafts past the windows, into my drowsy senses
Embarrassed, the lamp flickers, seeks respite
Soothing its discomfort with my palms, I oblige
Then you slide into my embrace, unabashed.
A moor hen, somewhere in the lake outside,
tells us, its hours before dawn breaks our reverie.

Vijay © 20th March, 2006

[Translation] Believe it or not

Beware of words
Each word, sharpened
in cold merciless events
They twist, they turn,
scratch, then slice the heart
In the age when “Father and daughter”,
no more sounds innocuous, innocent
and a thousand repetitions
clothes a lie in truthful hues,
like one and one never adding unto two,
nothing is right.

It doesn’t prep up for rains anymore
doesn’t boil in scorching sun
doesn’t smile during spring either
Yet, I too have a face,
one which dissolves in water,
and which the mirror shatters
into a thousand pieces.

A poem in Malayalam by Zubair
Translation by Vijay © 17th March, 2006

[Translation] Screw

Screw

With every twirl and swirl
to enter deep and to remain
lifeless, inert for a lifetime
was its destiny
In ironic language
etched in a groove on its head.

A poem in Malayalam by T.P. Vinod
Translation by Vijay © 17th March, 2006

[Translation] Etching Time

Etching Time

Whatever I’ve heard learnt and experienced
it’s all yours, all for you
as in Time you have etched

What did I see?
What did I experience?
What should I etch?
Should I erase what you wrote
with the ashes of a Sati
and then sing about mothers
who lived and died asphyxiated at the hearth?
Should I narrate how the devils ran amok,
within the dark confines of closed doors and windows,
smearing me with their sweat?
Or should I disclose
how you wiped clean all my small treasures,
my earrings, my anklets?
Tell me, how should I etch my history?

A poem in Kannada by D. Saraswati
Translated by Vijay © 17th March, 2006

[Translation] City

The pigeons perched upon my windowsill
admired themselves
looking at the rain-washed windows
waking me up
with their satisfied grunts.

Mornings have never been so clear.

Go slow, lest you skid,
the wet roads warn cars
They all seem newly built,
the high-rises carrying the sky in their arms
Neatly tended gardens glistened
with flowers of many hues.
Water flowed in small streams

Stationed a little far
a garbage-din
sounded a reminder-

Behind these mansions,
there is another dump you forget
of teeming populace
Large, unlike me

Dogs there fight over leftovers
On a plastic wire infested by worms,
clothes hang
Rain harvested water in mud pots await
their share of rice and spices

A cloth-cradle swaying on the tree,
probably sopping wet

Clothed in her red saree,
cheap lipstick smudged on her lips,
smelling of the lilac in her hair,
the one who left in the morning
sans an umbrella,
she seems to have dissolved into the rains.

A poem in Malayalam by T.P. Anil Kumar
Translated by Vijay © 14th March, 2006

Thursday, March 16, 2006

[Verse] it surely matters

In a world governed by petro-money,
in its fast dehydrating lands,
between ubiquitous border tussles,
natural fury and resultant calamities,
between power-shifts, military coups,
mercy killings and assassinations,
carefully stacking my blocks,
huffing and puffing, I run to my goal.
Before,
a landslide, an earthquake, an unrest
or a stray bullet ends my strife,
my existence as a tiny speck on the map.
Death shall be my ultimate redeemer,
but it would surely matter how I die!

Vijay © 16th March, 2006

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

A moment - The woman in my life

Someone told me its Woman’s day today. Of the three hundred and sixty five days, the one day reserved for paying tribute to a being, who is positioned exactly at the centre of the axis we call life.

In contrast to many who may claim to know many women, I have known only one.

For me, woman is a moment in time.
A moment we all cherish. A moment we all wish would never pass.

From her womb to the cradle of her arms, I never felt that the world outside could be as cruel as it is. She breast-fed me, nourished and soothed my wails, before I was ready to set my foot on the earth. Dangling by her fingers, I took my first steps and I could see the worried frown of her eyebrows as I stumbled for the first time. She brought a lyrical symphony into my early life, singing hymns and nursery rhymes with the same aplomb. Somewhere during her relentless efforts to shape my future, unknown to her, she chiseled my intellectual contour. The packed Tiffin, washed and well-ironed school uniforms, the check on pencil and eraser in my geometry box, she did all with clock precision. Years passed by, and saw me expanding my horizons. She, who was the most important person in my life, accepted my need for space, without demur. College, Peer group, discos, playgrounds became my regular haunts. Yet, when she opened the doors in the evening I could still see the agony of a long wait ensconced in her beautiful eyes.

I could sense her agony, but was too naïve to acknowledge or accept. May be that is how life is destined to be. I was eager to swim across childhood and she was holding on to those moments.

Mother, is how I used to call her then.

She again came into my life as another moment. While I walked around the holy fire with her hand in mine, she was willingly tying herself to my destiny. As the nadaswarams crooned, friends and relatives showered petals on us, heralding our union. That moment, she was my demur bride. Days and years passed. She became a part of me, as I had become of hers. We shared our joys and sorrows. She labored as hard as me to supplement the family income. While in the evenings I lazed around the house, she would have assumed her mantle in the kitchen, the aroma of my favorite dish wafting through the house. At night, she would rest her head on my chest and murmur sweet nothings into my ear and I wished that the night would never end. Bathed and fresh, with vermillion prominent in her hair-parting, she would wake me up to another day with freshly brewed coffee. How could I not tell you about her gentle nudges and reprimands, and the occasional tiffs, all ending up with I realizing my folly and she hers. She was the fulcrum on which my life turned. Definitely, one of the most defining moments of my life.

They say she is my wife.

One day, she was in my lap, as a little bundle of joy weighing only 1.75 Kgs. With her tiny eyes she stared at my heavy moustaches and held on tight to my little finger. As I wrapped her in warm clothes warding of the winter blues, she smiled at me. Her smile is still lingering in my mind. I had this urge to always carry her in my arms, never to let her walk on the ground, lest she may find it uncomfortable. What is that which has endeared me so much to that moment, I wondered. As I came back from work after a hard day’s toil, a mere glimpse of her made me forget all my worries. She would then perch atop my chest, while I lay on the floor and together we would talk of fairies and elves. Occasionally, she would hug me and give a small peck on my cheeks. Never ever refusing any of her demands and for being at her beck and call, I started getting admonished for being too benevolent to her. I was her first dance partner and I never knew I was such a bad dancer until I danced with her.

She looked at me the other day and said, “I am your daughter.”

Wherever I am today, for whatever I have done and whatever I am doing, I am sure I would not be, but for the Woman, who has spread herself across each moment in my life. She did not create the moments, she was the moment itself. For me, each day is woman’s day; each moment is of the woman.


Vijay © 8th March, 2006
Word Count: 791 words

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

[Translation] Who says?

Who says
“Wait” is only a Railway Station
in western Malabar?
and that a dawn, in battle fatigue
would alight there in a coffin one day?

Who says
Memory is a musical window
opening on to ripe paddy-fields?
That it is when the sun sets there
that rigor-mortis would set in?

Who says
Trees have ceased to understand
the soulful songs of the winds?
That to rabbits and lilies
we should not reveal the death of love?

Who says
noon from now onwards
would be as heavy
as a tippler’s head?
And afternoons, like a loner’s humming,
are suffering from heart ailments?

Who says
Scooping up the childhood rains
in the cups of our palms, we are running
barefoot, on glowing iron rods?
In the end to handover our keys
to the same rains?

Who says
Men grow younger after they die?
They get transcended to another time?
The birds that went missing at sunset,
on the day of reckoning, they would return?

Who says
We would know of everything
without anyone letting us know?
And that despite knowing all,
Desist, we would, from telling anyone?

Poem in Malayalam by K. Satchidanandan
Translation by Vijay © 4th March, 2006

Friday, March 03, 2006

[Poem] Surreal thoughts

i stumbled once in a while
couldn’t keep up with their pace
it was darkness all around, and
i saw no eyes on their face

being blind is a virtue
as ignorance is bliss
there is nothing that you know of
there is nothing that you miss

it took a while to sink in
for me to become wise
in the land of the blind
better not to have eyes

Vijay © 3rd March, 2006

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

Some pictures I have clicked

These are some photographs I have clicked, majorly using my Camera phone.

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[Translation] Nishabdataa

Craftily,
he dissolves into eternity
as I try to touch
Unexpectedly,
sending a shiver down my spine

Like gossamer spider-webs,
in one breath,
stealing the sunshine and skies
from long winding roads,
from roots through the stem
he grows into the leaves.
The music of solitude

The day
I shatter into a thousand pieces,
like a tight strangle,
like sudden thunder,
he may wrap me in his tentacles.

Till then, he is quiet.
My silence.

Poem in Malayalam “Ente ee nishabdata”
By Junaid U.
Translation by Vijay © 1st March, 2006

[Translation] Till now

Till now
I’ve never been drunk
Never stole
Never gave a reason
for dear ones to complain.

Till now
I don’t owe anyone a penny.
Never let a beggar pass
with an empty bowl.
Never fought.
Haven’t even scolded
my little ones.

Till now
I’ve never questioned
God and his will
Have never succumbed
to a colour or a flag
Never been accused
of unrequited affections

And me?
Never has anyone
been unkind to me either, ever.

Why should I be doing this?
Why on earth?
Why?

He jumped up from the tracks
and in a haste, headed for home,
before it was too late.

Malayalam Poem by Pavitran Tiikunni
Translation by Vijay © 25th February, 2006

A Picture of Danish

This is a picture of Danish Hussein clicked at Lodi Gardens, New Delhi on 26th February, 2006.

Silhouetted against History