Sunday, 11 December 2011


A shadow, like an extended hand of the night,
Was creeping on the moon, which was shining bright.

Just like an ink bloat spreading on a paper,
The blemish was moving, like a mystical vapor.

At first I was puzzled and was taken by surprise,
At this dark spot, marring the beauty of moon rise.

But then I remembered, it was the eclipse tonight,
When the celestial orbs play with shadow and light.
The spectacle was unfolding right before my eyes,
For my parched mind it was an invaluable prize.

The shadow was spreading with every passing moment
The beauty of the sight made it difficult to comment

In a short time the full moon transformed to a crescent,
Curved and pointed like the sickle of a peasant.

Then it happened, the epitome of the event,
Oh my! What a change did the Moon underwent.

There it was, more charming than any ruby stone,
Metaphors are worthless, it has a beauty of its own.

I wonder if Endymion met Cynthia on such a day,
One can't resist this sight, try as hard as he may.

But no marvel will last forever, that's sure,
Even if it's pristine, serene and pure.

Soon, a white glow was seen beneath the red,
As if the Moon was rising from the bed.

Slowly the shadows were inching out,
Soon to be reduced to a stubby little snout.

At last her face was completely clear,
And she shone bright without the trace of a smear.

The beauty of moonlight will always remain,
Giving me comfort, whenever I'm in pain.

Monday, 28 November 2011


Solitude is nothing new to me,
Lonely is the way I'm meant to be.

I'm fickle-minded, so am I selfish.
But at times for some care, I do wish.

I've fallen in love far too often,
And each time I failed, I felt like an orphan.

I do make friendships, but they never last long,
Too soon to be real I hear their swan song.

Often I walk alone through the crowd,
As if I'm invisible, covered in a shroud.

I've long forgotten how I should smile.
I feel like I'm something dirty and vile.

I used to write, back in some good old time,
But now I can hardly make two words rhyme.

My happy face is what others always see,
But beneath the surface, I'm a storm-hit sea.

I cry in agony, I scream in its pain,
But no one listens, my efforts in vain.

I'm just a shadow, void of a soul,
I wander aimlessly, without a goal.

Maybe my destiny is fixed this way,
Or maybe happiness will come to me someday.

I try to think positive, and not to lose hope,
And that's how with this misery, of my life I cope.

Monday, 7 November 2011

A Kitty's Tale

It is amazing to watch a kitty grow up
It’s even better when you watch it close up.

He’s always near his loving mother.
She’s so caring, like none another.

But at times, fun and adventure he seeks.
And away from his watchful mother, he sneaks.

He runs around, O! He’s a happy child
The fun and excitement makes him go wild.

With his imaginary friend, he seems to fight,
But all this he does out of his mother’s sight.

He learns a lot while he is in this game,
He has to, or else it’ll be a shame.

He learns to hunt, he learns stealth,
All these work-outs help to keep up his health.

He is curious; obviously he’s a cat,
And is often seen fighting with our floor mat.

He is as white as snow and has a fluffy tail.
But his paws are muddy, they leave a dirt trail.

He’s so cute and cuddly to look at,
His innocent stare is hard to forget.

He meows whenever I pass him by,
O! You can’t help but love this little guy.

Saturday, 15 October 2011

24 Comrades of XII Commerce

Twelfth commerce is our class room
For each one of us, its like our own room.

We are all different, but yet we are one.
And along with studies, we have a lot of fun.

We comrades are twenty four in number.
And here I describe, each single member.

Sangeetha Madam is our beloved mother.
She is a motivator like none another.

Midhuna is cute, pretty and simple.
And when she smile, we see a dimple.

Shersha almost never brings his lunch.
But his football skills have a power packed punch.

Rimshi's handwriting is the best in our class.
Its crystal clear like a sheet of glass.

Niyas cracks some hilarious jokes.
He is of great help to all his folks.

Never does Nigila stop her chatter,
Her voice's always heard, like rain's pitter patter.

Yashin is the greatest music lover.
His love for Enrique will last forever.

Remi is a friend to boys and girls alike.
And she has some talent behind the mic.

Vysakh's poems are long but cool.
And he's also the captain of the school.

Deepthi is the sole girl in the I.P class.
So is she the permanent leader of our class.

Ashel is our very own math wizard.
He solves all problems no matter how hard.

Varada always does hilarious blunders.
"Is she that stupid?" one often wonders.

Anoop is skilled with the paint and brush.
His drawings are always pristine and fresh.

Among girls, Neethu is the tallest.
But she speaks much less than all the rest.

Ubaid is  a die-hard M.J fan.
Without music, his life seems wan,

Anjitha might be a news-editor's choice,
For she has a sweet and versatile voice.

Shabeer's physique is exceptionally fine.
And on Facebook he is always online.

Rejina seems to have magnified eyes,
Her spectacle lenses, thick as ice.

Amil always have a lot of hunches.
And he asks doubts & questions in bunches.

Nitin is full of bubbling energy.
And he likes to call all of us: "Buji"

Alok has the most hilarious laugh.
Its often mistaken for a painful cough.

Nishanth is a maestro in playing the flute,
And whenever we hear it, we listen to it mute.

Vishnu's songs are given high rating.
But his loud mouth can be irritating.

Prince often tops every single test.
He never gives his brain some sort of rest.

Abijith studies al the time since,
His only aim is to catch up with Prince.

We're always together, we live as a team.
Andour class is always beautiful, as if it's a dream

Monday, 10 October 2011

El Che

I found my idol when I was twelve,
I distinctly remember that day so well.

Ernesto Guevara was his name,
And since then my life has never been the same.

He became my hero, a true legend.
His persona was just mighty elegant.

He did not preach, or gave sermons,
But stood up and fought the opposing demons.

He always thought of one word: "Revolution."
He believed that it was the ultimate solution.

He taught me what it takes to be a rebel.
And to have the courage to face the devil.

He taught me how to be unselfish,
And to do what it takes to fulfill your wish.

He has been dead for forty years,
But "Che" is a word the C.I.A still fears.

He's left behind an impressive legacy,
For a martyr's 'death' is a mere fallacy.

El Che, you never will die.
"Viva la Revolution", let us all cry

Sunday, 18 September 2011

The Importance of Lying

Most of you may disapprove of this fact,
But lying is in fact an important act.

If all the lies, from this world disappear,
The earth would no longer remain a sphere.

Lies are just like the air we breathe,
Always around, like a covering sheath.

Its impossible to tell truth and lie apart,
Even if you are pure at heart.

They are all around us. All these lies,
They’re too much entangled in our lives.

Without lies, there won’t be any advices.
Nor will there be any more surprises.

Inspiring speeches will not be made,
Nor will you get an excellent grade.

The so-called “love” will not exist,
And all differences will be settled by fist.

The concept of family will surely break down,
And the faces of people will always have a frown.

There’ll be no more “thanks”. Nor will there be “sorry”.
And courtesy will be an unheard story.

There won’t be friendship or any such crap.
And you won’t find nations in a map.

Hell!! Without lies there’ll be nothing at all.
No culture, no God, no civilization et al.

The world as we know it is built upon lies.
So is everything. So are our lives.

So please do lie, ‘coz it’s really important,
Or else our lives would surely be shortened.

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

അങ്ങനെ ഒരു ഓണക്കാലം കൂടി............

"അല്ലടോ, ഇക്കൊല്ലം ഓണൊക്കെ എങ്ങനെണ്ടായിരുന്നു?"

"ഓണം ഉഷാര്‍ ആയി. എല്ലാ കൊല്ലത്തേം പോലെതന്നെ ഇക്കൊല്ലോം ഓണം അടിപൊളി ആയി.
സ്കൂളില്‍ ഓണപ്പരിപാടിയൊക്കെ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്നു. പക്ഷെ ഞാന്‍ പോയില്ല. അവിടെ കൊറേ ഡാന്‍സും പാട്ടും പൂക്കളോം ഒക്കെയല്ലേ ഉള്ളൂ. ഒരീസം ലീവെടുത്താ അത്രേം നേരത്തെ നാട്ടീ പോവാം. അല്ലേങ്ങി തന്നെ നാല് ദിവസേ അവധിയുള്ളൂ. ഞാന്‍ പഠിക്കണത് K.V ല്‍ അല്ലേ?
പിന്നെ, ഓണത്തിന്റെ അന്ന് രാവിലെ തന്നെ എണീറ്റ്‌ എല്ലാര്ക്കും message അയച്ചു. പൈസ പോയി, എന്നാലും സാരല്യ. ഓണല്ലേ. പിന്നെ കുളിയൊക്കെ കഴിഞ്ഞ് Facebook ല്‍ പോയി 'Happy Onam' status ഇട്ടു. എല്ലാവരടേം Wall ല്‍ post ഉം ചെയ്തു. പിന്നെ google ല്‍ പോയി നല്ലൊരു പൂക്കളത്തിന്റെ ചിത്രം Facebook ലേക്ക് upload ചെയ്തു. എല്ലാരേം tag ഉം ചെയ്തു.
കുറച്ച്‌ Friends നേരത്തെ തന്നെ എന്നെ tag ചെയ്തിരുന്നു. എല്ലാരും 'Happy Onam' status ഉം ഇട്ടിരുന്നു. അതെല്ലാം പോയി like ചെയ്ത് comment ചെയ്ത് കഴിഞ്ഞപ്പഴേക്കും ഉച്ചയായി.
പിന്നെ സദ്യയും കഴിഞ്ഞ് വൈന്നേരം വരെ സുഖായിട്ട് ഒറങ്ങി. എഴുന്നേറ്റപ്പോളെക്കും ഏഷ്യാനെറ്റില്‍ 'ബെസ്റ്റ് ആക്ടര്‍' തൊടങ്ങി. പിന്നെ ചായേം കുടിച്ച്, ഉപ്പേരീം കൊറിച്ച് അങ്ങനെ ഇരുന്നു. എന്തായാലും ഓണം അങ്ങനെ സംഭവായി."

"അല്ലാ, അപ്പൊ നിന്‍റെ വീട്ടില്‍ ആരാ ഓണം കൊണ്ടേ?"

"ഓണം കൊള്ളേ? എന്ന് വച്ചാ എന്താ???"

Saturday, 3 September 2011

I'm Alone

The world’s moving around me, and I’m sitting still.
Fore lone and lonely, like grit on a window sill.

There are people all around. They’re fussing about.
They don’t care about me, even if I shout.

They talk in tongues that I don’t understand.
I feel as if walking through an alien land.

Their actions amaze me. They’re just so weird.
They are always tensed, and their muscles geared.

They preach a lot, but they are merely words.
Such sermons are everywhere, as common as birds.

Love is said to be their life’s essence.
But everywhere I see only despondence.

They talk about being each other’s friend.
But all are left on their on to fend.

I fail to understand why I’m living,
In this world. Ah! Its so unforgiving.

I feel as if I’m standing on the edge of the world.
Ready to jump off and fly away like a bird.

Friday, 2 September 2011

ആരാപ്പോ ഈ ഹസാരേ?

“അല്ല മാഷേ, ആരാപ്പോ ഈ അണ്ണാ ഹസാരേ? കൊറച്ച് ദൂസായിട്ട് ടീവീലും, പേപ്പറിലും ഒക്കെ അങ്ങേരടെ പേരും, പടോം മാത്രേ കാണാന്ള്ളൂ”
“ ഇയാള് പാര്‍ട്ടിക്കാരനാ? അല്ല, എപ്പോളും ഖദറിട്ടാ കാണാറ്. തലേല്  ഗാന്ധിതൊപ്പീം ഇണ്ടാവും. അതോണ്ട് ചോദിച്ചതാ.”

“പിന്നെ മാഷേ, ആ വെള്ളത്തൊപ്പീനെ എന്താ ഗാന്ധിതൊപ്പീന്ന് പറയണേ? ഗാന്ധിജി ആ തൊപ്പീം വെച്ച് നിക്കണ ഒരു പടോം ഞാന്‍ ഇത് വരേയ്കും കണ്ടിട്ടില്യാ ട്ടോ.”
“ അല്ലേലും അതല്ലല്ലോ ഇപ്പൊ വല്യ കാര്യം. ഈ അണ്ണന്‍ എന്തോ പാല് കൊണ്ടരാന്‍ വേണ്ടി ഒന്നും തിന്നാണ്ടെ കെടക്കണൂന്ന് കേട്ടു? അതെന്താ മാഷേ ദില്ലീലെ പശൂന്‍റെയൊക്കെ കറവ വറ്റിയോ? ഇങ്ങട്ട് പോരാന്‍ പറ മാഷേ. നമ്മടെ ശങ്കരേട്ടന്‍റെ തൊഴുത്തില്‍ നാല് ജെഴ്സിയല്ലേ നിക്കണേ?.”

“പിന്നെ മാഷേ, വെരോരൂട്ടം കേട്ടതേ, ഈ അണ്ണന്‍ ഗാന്ധീടെ രണ്ടാം ജന്മാത്രേ. പക്ഷേങ്ങില്‍ അയാളെ കാണാന്‍ ഗാന്ധീനെ പോലെ ഒന്നും ഇല്യ. ഒരു വയറന്‍. പിന്നെ ആകെ ഒരേപോലെ ഉള്ളത് തല മാത്രാ. കൊയ്ത്ത് കഴിഞ്ഞ് കെടക്കണ പാടത്തിന്‍റെ ചേല്. ഒരൊറ്റ മുടീല്യ.”

“എന്താ മാഷേ? ഇയാള്‍ ഇങ്ങനെ തിന്നാണ്ടിരിക്കണത് അഴിമതി ഇല്ല്യാണ്ടെ ആക്കാന്‍ ആണ്ന്നോ? അല്ല, ഇയാള് തിന്നാണ്ടെ ഇരുന്നാ എങ്ങന്യാ അഴിമതി കൊറയാ? അയാള്‍ടെ വയറല്ലേ കൊറയൂ?”

“ പിന്നേയ്‌, ഈ അഴിമതി കൊറഞ്ഞാ എന്താപ്പോ ഇണ്ടാവാ? അരീന്റേം പച്ചക്കറീന്റേം വെല കൊറയോ? പൊളിഞ്ഞ് പാളീസായ നമ്മടെ റോഡ്‌ ശെരിയാവോ? ഇക്ക് പൂവാന്‍ നല്ലൊരു സ്കൂള്‍ ഇണ്ടാവോ? ഇല്ല്യാ? പിന്നെപ്പൊ ഈ അഴിമതി കൊറഞ്ഞൂന്ന് വച്ച് എന്താ വിശേഷം? ഈ അണ്ണനെ, നൊസ്സാ. നല്ല അസ്സല്‍ നൊസ്സ്. അത്രന്നെ….”

Thursday, 1 September 2011


I’ve always wondered why I’m lonely.
I’ve been a loner. The one and the only.

A fortress of solitude is where I live in.
And at times I really get bored out of my skin.

Recently I figured out the reason for all this.
But that doesn’t give me a lot if bliss.

I’m like a mirror, a reflective plane.
I’m just a glass sheet, void of a brain.

I reflect the people whom I meet.
Back at themselves, clean and neat.

When you talk to me, you’re talking with you.
And you see yourself in your exact same hue.

You mistake me for your ideal pair.
For I’m like you, and a lot we share.

At first you like it, ‘coz you are with “you”.
And reflections like me, they are far too few.

But then you realize, I’ve nothing of my own.
“Ah, what an idiot”, you silently groan.

Gradually you pull away, steady and slow.
A long distance away from me you go.

I go through this like, all the time.
My value for most of them is less than a dime.

I’m just a reflection, merely an image.
That’s why I’m alone, like a bird in a cage.

No one lingers in my life. I’m single.
I search for a friend, who’s ready to mingle.

But when mirrors come together, they make a wonderful gleam.
Infinite reflections. Beautiful like in a dream.

So one day I’m gonna find a mirror just like me.
I’ll never be alone and together we will be.

Sunday, 14 August 2011

A Long Lost Friend

Nostalgia is the best of feelings.
It gives us some respite from our daily dealings.

Nothing equals that feeling we get,
While thinking of moments, we don't wanna forget.

But at times nostalgia can be an ache,
Like driving through our heart, a long and sharp stake.

It indeed is painful whenever I think,
Of my long lost friend, it makes my heart sink.

Never have I seen her, for we met online,
But for me our friendship was true and fine.

We had much in common, our birthdays for instance,
But alas! our friendship wasn't meant to be constant.

She disappeared one day from the cyberspace.
She gave no reason and left no trace.

She influenced my life, she left a mark,
But now she's gone and I'm groping in dark.

I tried to figure out where we went wrong,
But I'm still clueless. And it's been so long.

Maybe I was too boring to endure,
Maybe she felt that I'm not pure.

Maybe she thought I was just any other
Stupid guy. And that's why she did not bother.

Still I miss her. I feel her absence.
And all these emotions make no sense.

But hey! That's life. You shouldn't lose hope.
Be brave my heart, 'coz there still is hope.

We will meet if we are destined to meet,
And I wait for that day, it sure will be sweet.

Thursday, 11 August 2011

A Vain Attempt

Tonight seems to be the perfect time,
To immerse myself in poetry’s rhyme.

The ambience is right and the mood is set,
A better chance, I may never get.

So here I sit, I have a poem to write,
And at this moment, everything seems right.

But wait,

Who’ll do the Accountancy homework?
Gosh, my ledger really needs some patchwork.

I’ve got a couple of theorems to learn,
In Economics, and my teacher is rather stern.

Principles of management, in Business must be read,
My teacher stresses it as if it’s my daily bread.

Java and SQL must be filled in my head,
If not I can’t keep my I.P class’s thread.

My English note resembles an empty well,
It should be filled with notes, pell-mell

Thus, its better that I let go of this thought,
Of writing a poem ‘coz I gotta do a lot.

So I close my diary and to my text I'm hooked,
The dish of my poem still remains uncooked.

Sunday, 7 August 2011


I feel as if I’m the luckiest chap
Whom you’ll ever find on a wide world map.

‘Coz I have F.R.I.E.N.D.S, I love ‘em a lot
They are my life and I owe ‘em a lot.

My life is at its best when I’m with my mates.
They make me feel as if I’m at heaven’s gates.

They stand by my side, and they’ll always be there.
Be it night or be it day, they just never care.

When sorrows eclipse the happiness in my life
Their hands lift me up from all that strife.

Whenever I falter, their hands support me.
They are ready to share my sorrows, whatever they may be.

They give me a shoulder for me to cry on.
They always inspire me, egging me on.

At times, all it takes, is a punch in the shoulder
From my best friends to make me bolder.

They never fail to punch me when I’m in need.
That punch is an advice, to which I always heed.

They laugh with me, they make me smile.
They try to keep me, happy all the while.

I’m a single child which at times makes me sad,
But my friends are my siblings I’ve never had.

Oh guys… I love y’all so much.
And I always wanna keep in touch.

Happy Friendship day my dear dearest F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
I’ll cherish these friendship till my life ends.

Dedicated to all my dear dearest friends……
 Love you all…

Saturday, 9 July 2011

A World Without Watches

Let us take a decision now,
I'm sure, this one you all will love.

Let's stop our watches and clocks forever
And throw them down a gushing river.

Imagine life, without limits of time.
Void of those clocks and their irritating chime.

We won't have to see those dreadful timetables,
They make me feel as if I'm bound by cables.

We won't have to complete the syllabus within an year.
And the teachers would stop drilling in our ear.

We can write exams to show what we've learned.
And not race the clock, to leave our brains burned.

We can relax, we can sleep. We can be at ease.
And we can give our minds, a state of peace.

We can slow down this race, this frantic pace.
And for once we can give, each other some space.

We can open our eyes and take a look around.
And see mother nature's beauty abound.

We often turn a blind eye, towards the good in our life.
Instead we choose to have tension and strife.

All of us are bound by the watches on our wrists.
They make our lives complex, by bringing in twists.

That's why I say, let's ditch our watches.
And live the life we want, void of any latches.

Thursday, 30 June 2011

Identitiy Crisis

I’m confused about my reality.
I just can’t figure out my true identity.

Physically I’m one, but mentally I’m many.
The role’s I play are just too many.

I’m facing sort of an identity crisis.
I play many roles on a daily basis.

For my parents I’m their obedient boy,
And on me depends much of their joy.

I’m a diligent student when I’m at school,
Searching for wisdom in that big knowledge pool.

When I’m with friends I’m a whole new person.
I laugh, I swear; I see no reason.

I let myself go and try to be open.
But yet that isn’t me. I’m not fully open.

Thus I play many different roles.
If I define them all, I’ll need many paper rolls.

So who am I in blood and bone?
I am what I am, only when I’m alone.

I solve my crisis and resolve to have fun.
But the moment I step out, its back to square one.

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Deja Vu

Deja Vu is a crazy feeling.
Like repeating actions without any meaning.

You feel that you've done something before,
Like ocean waves lashing the sea shore.

I listen to my teachers, taking the class.
But haven't I heard this before and had let it pass?

I chat with my friends, I just talk on.
Suddenly I feel, aren't these moments long back gone?

My parents advice me as it's usual everyday.
But did I not hear the same, the very previous day?

Deja Vu is a crazy feeling.
Like repeating actions without any meaning.

Hey wait, didn't I write these lines before?
Ah! Deja Vu, like waves on a sea shore

Tuesday, 28 June 2011

A Girl's Death

A column in today's newspaper read:
"An eight year old girl was dead,
When the bomb she was carrying exploded"

The incident took place in Afghanistan,
A major epicenter of Taliban

The girl was recruited as a suicide bomber.
But the mission failed and she was lo longer.

It shook me hard. It touched my heart.
It pierced my conscience like a sharp long dart.

What made her carry a bomb in her hand,
When she should've been dreaming of a fairy land?

She should've held a book not a bomb.
Her life should've been sweet like a golden honeycomb.

At an age when she should've been showered with love,
She was killed, she was murdered Oh my God, but how?

What were they thinking? Those filthy a**holes.
When they gave a bomb to the tender soul?

Did they not see her innocent face?
Or were they blinded by some unknown haze?

I imagine her face, pristine and sweet.
Now blown into bits and pieces of meat.

She's dead, she's gone. Nipped in the bud.
Prey to those, who yearn for young blood.

What's our world coming to? Is it an apocalypse?
Human minds are darkened, as if by an eclipse.

Benevolence and pity are nowhere to be seen.
Greed and lust just dominate the scene.

If this is the world, what's the purpose of life?
Its better we die and not face so much strife.

Children are considered the rays of hope.
But when they are murdered, there's no more scope.

Human evolution, was a blunder by nature.
And as a result, she's facing a dark future.

We need some advice, we need an Oracle.
Let's hope a solution evolves like a miracle.

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


നമുക്ക് ഏറെ പരിചിതനായ, എന്നാല്‍ നമ്മുടെ വീട്ടിലേക്ക് വരാന്‍ നമ്മള്‍ ഒരിക്കലും ആഗ്രഹിക്കാത്ത ഒരു അതിഥിയെ പോലെയാണ് തുമ്മല്‍. വല്ലപ്പോഴുമേ ഈ അതിഥി വരൂ. പക്ഷേ വന്നാലോ? നമ്മളെ ശരിക്കും ബുദ്ധിമുട്ടിച്ചിട്ടെ പുള്ളി പോവൂ.

തുമ്മലിന് വരാന്‍ പ്രത്യേകിച്ച് നേരവും കാലവും ഒന്നുമില്ല. ചിലപ്പോള്‍ നട്ടപ്പാതിരക്ക്, നമ്മുടെ ഉറക്കം കളഞ്ഞു കൊണ്ടാവും ഇദ്ദേഹത്തിന്‍റെ വരവ്. മറ്റു ചിലപ്പോള്‍ രാവിലെ കുളിച്ച് കുറിയും തൊട്ടു ഒരു ഗ്ലാസ്‌ കാപ്പി കയ്യിലെടുക്കുമ്പോഴാവും. നല്ല ചൂട് കാപ്പി ദേഹത്ത് വീഴുകേം ചെയ്യും, ഭാഗ്യമുണ്ടെങ്കില്‍ [നമ്മുടെ കാര്യമല്ല] ഗ്ലാസ്‌ താഴെ വീണു പോട്ടുകേം ചെയ്യും. ഇതിനെക്കാളൊക്കെ കഷ്ടം സ്കൂളില്‍ മൌന പ്രാര്‍ത്ഥനയുടെ ഇടക്ക് തുമ്മല്‍ വരുമ്പോഴാണ്. എല്ലാവരും നിശബ്ദരായി, ശാന്തരായി പ്രാര്‍ഥിക്കുമ്പോള്‍‍……… ഹാ ച്ചി…….. നിശബ്ദത തവിടുപൊടി.

തുമ്മലിന്‍റെ ഏറ്റവും വലിയ പ്രശ്നം അതിനു ഒരു മരുന്നില്ല എന്നതാണ്. ജലദോഷത്തിന്‍റെ സ്വന്തം അളിയനായത് കൊണ്ട് :
“മരുന്ന് കഴിച്ചാല്‍ ഒരാഴ്ച കൊണ്ട് മാറും.
ഇല്ലെങ്കില്‍ 7 ദിവസം പിടിക്കും”
അത് തന്നെയാണ് പ്രശ്നം. തുമ്മല്‍ വന്നു കഴിഞ്ഞാല്‍ തുമ്മി തന്നെ മാറണം. Vicksഉം അമൃതാഞ്ജന്‍ഉം  പുരട്ടിയാലും ഫലം നാസ്തി.

തുമ്മല്‍ പല തരമുണ്ട്. നീട്ടിത്തുമ്മല്‍, കുറുക്കി‍ത്തുമ്മല്‍, പരത്തിത്തു‍മ്മല്‍, വെടി പൊട്ടും പോലെയുള്ള “ടമാര്‍ പടാര്‍” തുമ്മല്‍, വെറും തുമ്മല്‍, പൊടിത്തുമ്മല്‍ അങ്ങനെയങ്ങനെയങ്ങനെ……

എന്‍റെ അഭിപ്രായത്തില്‍, തുമ്മലിനെ പറ്റി ഒരു പുസ്തകം തന്നെ എഴുതാന്‍ ഉള്ള വകുപ്പുണ്ട്. അങ്ങനെ ഒരു പുസ്തകം എഴുതാന്‍ ഉദ്ദേശിക്കുന്നവര്‍ക്ക് ഈ ലേഖനം ഒരു പ്രചോദനം ആവും എന്ന് പ്രതീക്ഷിച്ച് കൊണ്ട് നിര്‍ത്തുന്നു…..
ഹാ ച്ചി……

Friday, 10 June 2011


Flying up towards the dirty yellow light,
Moths, they offer a pitiable sight.

Lured by the flickering bulb's glow,
They stop thinking, and just go along the flow.

They blindly fly up, unaware of their fate,
When they realise the danger, its always too late.

Waiting for them would be a hungry lizard
Catching the moths with the perfection of a wizard.

Or they might end up burning their wings,
Falling below the light in circular rings.

I pity the moths, they appear so brainless.
Yet, aren't we like moths, more or less?

Seeing the lure of money, we also flock.
Moving mindlessly like hands of a clock.

There are lizards waiting to catch us.
Or money burn our wings, rendering us helpless.

Still we don't stop, never do we think.
We stick around money, like a kink in a slink.

Light attracts moths, while money is our lure.
Pity the moths, only if your mind is pure.

Tuesday, 31 May 2011

The Breaking Dawn

Early morning is an awesome sight,
When dawn awakes from the depth of night.

I got a chance to watch the twilight,
The beauty was surreal, I felt feather light.

The crescent moon seemed to be a broken ring,
As if lost from the finger of a king.

Surrounding the moon were the remaining stars
Just like droplets from Unicorn scars.

A pale light was peeking from behind horizon,
A reddish glow turning rapidly to crimson

It was a wet dawn, the onset of monsoon,
It had rained yesterday, mother nature's boon.

The chirping of crickets could still be heard,
The swan songs before being meals of a bird.

An owl was hooting on a nearby tree,
Off to a sleep after a hunting spree.

The Sun was rising, spreading warmth all around,
The world was rising, healthy and sound.

Chirping of birds were the first of the voices,
That reached my ears. Ah! the best among choices.

The world is awake, off to another day,
The usual daily business, is about to get under way.

Sunday, 29 May 2011


കഴിഞ്ഞ ദിവസം ഞാന്‍ ഒരു കല്യാണത്തിന് പോവ്വണ്ടായി. ചുറ്റോറം ആളും ബഹളോം തന്നെ………
ഒരു കണക്കിന് സീറ്റ്‌ കിട്ടി. ന്നിട്ട് മണ്ഡപത്തിക്ക് നോക്കീപ്പോ, ചെക്കനേം കാണാല്യ, പെണ്ണിനേം കാണാല്യ. കൊറേ ക്യാമറക്കാര്ടെ മൂട് മാത്രം കാണാണ്ട്. അപ്പൊ, ന്‍റെ അട്ത്ത് ഇരുന്ന ഒരു കാരണോര്‍ പറയാ: “പണ്ടൊക്കെ കല്യാണത്തിന് കാര്‍ന്നോമ്മാരാ പറയാ എവിടേ നിക്കണ്ടി, എന്തേ ചെയണ്ടി ന്ന്. പ്പൊ അങ്ങന്യൊന്നുവല്ല. ക്യാമറക്കാരാ പറയാ എവിടേ നിക്കണ്ടി, എന്തേ ചെയണ്ടി ന്ന്. കാലം പോയൊരു പോക്കേ…”
കൊറേ നേരം ഇരുന്ന് മടുത്ട്ടാവും, ന്‍റെ മുമ്പില്‍ ഇരുന്ന ഒരു വല്യമ്മ പിന്നിക്ക് തിരിഞ്ഞ് ന്നോട് ചോയിച്ചു. “ കെട്ട് കഴിഞ്ഞോ മോനേ?” “ഇല്യാ വല്യമ്മേ” ഞാന്‍ പറഞ്ഞു. “ഓ, ന്നാലും സാരല്യ. കെട്ടൊക്കെ ഇനി ടി.വീല് കാസറ്റ് ഇട്ട് കാണാ. ഞാന്‍ വേഗം പോട്ടെ. ഇല്ലെങ്ങി ഒന്നാം പന്തീല് സീറ്റ്‌ കിട്ടില്യ. പ്പൊ തന്നെ എല്ലാരും അങ്ങട്ട്ട് എത്തീണ്ടാവും”
കൊറച്ച് കഴിഞ്ഞപ്പോ, ഒരു കയ്യടി കേട്ടു. താലി കെട്ട് കഴിഞ്ഞൂത്രേ. മണ്ഡപത്തില് അപ്പളും ക്യാമറക്കാര്ടെ മൂട് തന്നെ……
ഞാന്‍ ന്നോട് തന്നെ പറഞ്ഞു: “കാലം പോയൊരു പോക്കേ…….”

Saturday, 28 May 2011


Sometimes I wonder, what is a bubble?
Its so beautiful, but yet so humble.

It is a perfect cute little sphere,
Causes no one no fear.

It barely lasts more than a minute,
Yet watching it gives us, a joy infinite.

All seven colours of the rainbow converge
Upon the bubble as if it’s a mirage.

It bursts in a second, yet the image lingers.
Leaves a moist imprint, on our fingers.

At times my dreams are a little like the bubbles.
They are beautiful, but not so humble.

Both are ruined in a matter of minutes,
And the joy both give knows no limits.

Dreams, like bubbles, have colours in plenty,
And the good things in a dream are also not scanty.

The bubbles, when punctured, leave a moist mark,
But the dream, when ruptured, causes our minds to go dark.

The agony of a broken dream is unlike any other pain.
The effect is so horrible, as if cutting a vein.

Most times, my dreams are broken.
And so is my mind vigorously shaken.

But my heart is an idiot, for never does it learn.
In spite of everything, it continues to yearn.

It never loses hope, never ceases to dream.
It creates its own world, an impossible realm.

But who am I to blame the heart?
Its doing what it should, just playing its part.

I make bubbles, knowing all of them will burst,
So you decide, whom should I blame first?

Friday, 27 May 2011

New Moon

Today it’s the full moon up in the sky,
But in my mind the new moon is on the high.

Just like the sky, all dark and dull,
My mind is blank. All too still.

Good bye’s been said,
Farewell’s been bid.

There is no longer a scope.
Not the slightest hope.

She’s gone from my life, oh yes she’s gone,
But damn, I’ll miss her, I feel so alone.

Gone is my love. Its there no more,
My life is empty, nothing to store.

She felt bad ‘coz I gave her pain.
Now there’s no comeback, all my efforts in vain.

It was a short, but cute love story
Now that it’s over, I feel terribly sorry.

Where I went wrong? I myself don’t know.
It’s all over, the end of the show.

My life is as bleak as a winter landscape.
From this agony, there’s no escape.

I’m so sad, so full of sorrow.
I don’t know what’s awaiting me tomorrow.

I tried to hate her, I tried to forget.
But I’m unable to let go of that bloody regret.

I let her go, it was my bad.
And the goddamn grief is driving me mad.

Oh! Can I ever forgive myself?
I guess not, I was so full of myself.

That’s been the problem all along,
My stupid ego, as big as King Kong.

The poem of my love, an unfinished work
Cannot be revived, that’s my bad luck.

Everyday of my life is now a new moon
A reprieve from this, I won’t get it any soon.

Friday, 20 May 2011


മലയാളിയുടെ കര്‍ത്തവ്യബോധം: മലപ്പുറം കോട്ടക്കുന്നില്‍ നിന്നും ഒരു ദൃശ്യം 

Monday, 2 May 2011

Good Bye

She was my very first crush.
Whenever we met, I used to blush.

She was one of those few perfect girls.
She was as perfect as those rare shiny pearls.

“Beautiful” is not the word for her.
“Gorgeous” would be somewhat better.

She can’t be expressed with a single worthless word,
For her charm is almost beyond this world.

She is soft-spoken, and is good natured,
So is her face, perfectly featured.

I never thought I would be so sad,
When she’s gone. Oh! Its driving me mad.

The thought that we won’t meet again,
Is slicing my heart, causing a lot of pain.

My eyes are welling with tears, which is rare,
I don’t cry often, ‘coz pain, I can bear.

But such grief, I’ve felt never before.
The pain of parting, its unbearably more.

“Why would I miss her?” I start to think,
“As you never talk”. But still there is a link.

Between me and her, known only to me.
I never voiced it, for it was not meant to be.

At this juncture, there’s nothing I can do.
She is going. And that fact is true.

Oh Ash, I’ll miss you so much.
And I dearly hope I can keep in touch.

I know it isn’t possible, but still I wish,
‘Coz that’s the only thing I can accomplish.

I wish you the best, hope you remain the same.
And for sometime at least, you remember my name.

Sunday, 1 May 2011


ആര്‍ക്കുമാരോടും എപ്പോഴുമെങ്ങനെയും
എവിടെയുമെല്ലായ്പോഴും തോന്നാവുന്ന 
വികാരം ഈ ഊഴിയില്‍ ഇതൊന്നേ ഉള്ളു


ഈ ഞാന്‍ എങ്ങനെയിങ്ങനെയായി?
എന്നാല്‍ എല്ലാവര്‍ക്കുമെനിക്കും
ഈ ഞാന്‍ എങ്ങനെയോ ഇങ്ങനെയായി.

Saturday, 30 April 2011


ഞാനാരാണ് എന്നോരുത്തരമില്ലാ 
ചോദ്യത്തിന്നുത്തരം തേടിയലഞ്ഞു ഞാന്‍.
ഒടുക്കം ഉത്തരം കിട്ടിയപ്പോള്‍,
ഹാ! കഷ്ടം, മൃത്യുവും എന്നടുത്ത് 

Friday, 29 April 2011

കൂറകള്‍ക്ക് ഒരു കത്ത്

മനുഷ്യന്‍ എന്ന നികൃഷ്ട ജീവി ഇവിടെ പിറവിയെടുക്കുന്നതിനു വര്‍ഷങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് മുന്‍പേ ഇവിടെ സ്ഥിരതാമാസമാക്കിയ എന്‍റെ കൂറ സഖാക്കളേ, നിങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് ഈ വിനീതന്‍റെ അഭിവാദ്യങ്ങള്‍.
25 കോടി വര്‍ഷങ്ങളായി യാതൊരുവിധ മാറ്റങ്ങളും കൂടാതെ ഈ ഭൂമിയില്‍ ജീവിച്ചു പോരുന്ന നിങ്ങളെ പറ്റി "അത്ഭുതാവഹം" എന്നല്ലാതെ എന്താണ് ഞാന്‍ പറയേണ്ടത്?

ഒരു തരത്തില്‍ പറഞ്ഞാല്‍ നിങ്ങളുടെ ജീവിതം എന്തുകൊണ്ടും മനുഷ്യരെക്കാള്‍ ശ്രേയസ്ക്കാരമാണ്. നിങ്ങളുടെ ആവശ്യങ്ങള്‍ പരിമിതമാണ്. മനുഷ്യന്‍റെ അന്തമില്ലാത്ത ആവശ്യങ്ങള്‍ (അല്ല, അനാവശ്യങ്ങള്‍) ആണല്ലോ സാമ്പതികശാസ്ത്രം എന്ന ശാസ്ത്രശാഖക്ക് തന്നെ അടിത്തറ പാകിയത്‌.

ഇപ്പോളിതാ, മനുഷ്യന്‍റെ ആര്‍ത്തി കൂട്ടാന്‍ എല്ലാ കൊല്ലവും വരുന്ന "അക്ഷയ തൃതീയ" വീണ്ടും വരുന്നു. ആ ഒരു ദിവസത്തേക്ക് വേണ്ടിയുള്ള ജ്വല്ലറിക്കാരുടെയും മറ്റും ഒരുക്കം ഒന്ന് കാണേണ്ടത് തന്നെയാണ്.

കുറച്ചു ദിവസം മുന്‍പ്‌ ഒരു ആള്‍ദൈവം കൂടി ഈ ഭൂമിയില്‍ നിന്ന് കുറഞ്ഞു. മലയാളം ചാനലുകള്‍ അതിനെ ഒരു ഉത്സവം ആക്കുകയും ചെയ്തു.
"ഇന്നയാള്‍ മരിച്ചു" എന്ന് പറയുന്നതിന് പകരം "അദ്ദേഹം ദേഹവിയോഗം ചെയ്തു", "കാലഗതി പ്രാപിച്ചു", "ഇഹലോകവാസം വെടിഞ്ഞു", "സമാധിയടഞ്ഞു" എന്നിങ്ങനെ ഓരോ പ്രയോഗങ്ങളും.

ഇതെല്ലാം കാണുമ്പോള്‍ പ്രിയപ്പെട്ട കൂറ സഖാക്കളേ, ഞാനും നിങ്ങളെ പോലെ ഒരു കൂറയായിരുന്നെങ്കില്‍ എന്ന് ആശിച്ചു പോകുന്നു.
എല്ലാ വിധ ഭാവുകങ്ങളോടും കൂടി,
ഒരു പാവം വിനീതന്‍.

"I'm" angry at "me"

Yesterday, 'I' scolded 'myself':
"Why are you like this?
Can't you see the others, you elf,
Why are you like this?

"You've always been so damn rude,
Why is your mindset so much crude?

"You never do think how others may feel.
No wonder when you come, they turn on their heel.

"So much pain your words have caused
To others. A lot of limits you've crossed.

"You are such a moron. Never do you stop to think.
Whatever you feel like, you say it in a wink.

"And then repent later, 'Oh 'I' feel so sorry'
What's the use, its just a baseless worry.

"For the damage has been done, its deep and lasting.
It can't be undone. Not even by fasting.

"So please please have some sense.
So that you don't damage your future tense.

"Think before you speak from now on,
And think of your past, no its not yet gone.

"Learn when to shut your hatch,
And try not to excel in a shouting match"

'I' hope 'I' heed 'me' and that 'I' follow 'my' advice,
That I learn to shut 'my' mouth and be a bit more wise.

Thursday, 28 April 2011

मेरा छाता

खींच रहा था वो मेरा छाता|
जैसे यह मेरा नहीं उसका छाता|

दो सौ रुपये देकर खरीदा था में इसे,
तो फिर ऐसे कैसे जाने देता इसे?

ज़ोर मैंने भी लगाया.
ज़ोर उसने भी लगाया|

बहुत सारे खिंचावों के बाद,
फट गया मेरा छाता, हो गया बर्बाद|

उस छाते का काला कपडा ,
उडान ले रहा था, फैलाकर पंख फटफटा|

खाली डंडा ही मेरे हाथ में बचा था|
देखकर उसे मन में मेरा दुःख मचा था|

अब क्या मुंह दिखाऊ माँ जी को?
कैसे कहूं "फट गया छाता" पिताजी को?

मेरे दिल में हो रहा था हलचल|
ऊपर आसमान में भी शुरू हुआ एक हलचल|

हाथों से ढक लिया अपने सिर को|
भागा घर की तरह देती गालियाँ हवा को|

वह हवा, जो इसी तरह बहुतों की छाता में जाएगा|
खैर छोड़ो, अब जो होगा देखा जाएगा|


Mind, its like a butterfly
Rarely does it settle.
And always keeps on the fly.

Unlike a butterfly bound by limits,
Mind is something
Which conquers even the highest summit.

And yet, at times the mind
Can be so desolated
That it may be the saddest thing you find.

It can whoop aloud with elation
But then seconds later,
It can go deep down with depression.

The path it takes is unique to each one.
It can be straight or curved
Guessing which, is possible by none.

Mind, its like a butterfly
Rarely does it settle.
And always keeps on the fly.


When I see a beautiful flower,
Her smile flashes before my eyes.
When the wind near my ear do whisper,
I feel her presence calm and nice.

When I see the Moon's shining glow,
I see her face full and bright.
When rivers in-front of me flow,
I remember her hair, dark as night.

When I feel upon me the shower of rain,
I feel her hands upon my hands.
Whenever I find myself in pain,
Her memories sooth all my wounds.

Chances of another meeting later,
Has been to zero, reduced.
But still it makes me better,
Her memories, freshly reproduced.

Wednesday, 27 April 2011


What purpose do these walls serve?
They stand everywhere, even on roadside curves.

They dissect the earth into many fragments,
They limit our minds to selfish segments.

All places are now ‘mine’, ‘his’ or ‘yours’.
No place is no longer ‘ours’.

As time passes, these walls heighten,
Along with which our minds too tighten.

No longer can we think of the plight of others,
As thinking for one’s self had become such a bother.

India is divided by the biggest of them all,
“Namaste” and “Aadab” are on two sides of this wall.

“Change is the only constant”: Marx said decades before,
Its time we change, build walls no more.

Rub out the boundaries, take down the walls,
Lets live together, for each and for all.

Who Am I?

Who am I?
Among the billions of humans
Who am I?
Among all the diversity of life
Who am I?
On this big round geoid called earth
Who am I?
Of all the known and unknown in this universe
Who am I?

A mere speckle, just a face.
Insignificant in this mighty haze.
A six feet body, a phone number.
In the race called humans, a mere humble member.

An Evening in a Metro

Once I went to a metro city.
My heart at once was filled with pity.

I had heard: “You’ll find only the rich there.”
But I could only find the needy everywhere.

Some void of money, some yearn for love,
Some wanted friendship, and all in need of time.

The visions of the metro touched my heart,
It’s still hung in there, in some old lonely part.

In the Metro:
All around its breakneck speed,
Everyone wants to be the top seed.
And empathy is crushed, like an old broken bead.

Roads are everywhere like the burrow of a mole.
Like long black snakes rising above all.
But no place left for a nice evening stroll.

Everyone has got their wrist watches.
Some even hang them on their sashes.
But no time remain even for birthday bashes.

I could see a throng of people around,
Going by their routine round and round.
But a happy satisfied face was nowhere to be found.

All around its hot and dusty,
As if a morning fog has turned a bit dusty.
The air I breathed wasn’t fresh but musty.

Is this the haven I’ve heard so much about?
For which the people leave even their abode?

If this is the metro, I have an advice reserved,
This ain’t heaven but hell. Come here only if you’re cursed.


प्यार तो बहुत मिलते हें जनाब, पर
सच्ची मोहब्बत बहुत कम |
पत्थर तो मिलते हें हर कही, पर
हीरे उनमे बहुत कम||

प्यार इतना मत करना के  दिल में रह न सके,
दूर इतना मत रहना के हम सह न सके,
करते हम भी हे आपसे उतना ही प्यार..
जितना तुम भी आज तक हमसे कर न सके... 

दो मीठी बातों से नहीं होता प्यार,
हर फूल नहीं बनता गले का हार||

समंदर की लहरे, अपने सरों पे छाग के ताज सजाये,
इठलाती हुई, साहिलों की तरफ बढती हें|
साहिलों पर चट्टानें हें,
लहरे चक्माचुर हो जाते हें|
अक्सर सपने भी सच्चाईयों से टकराके यु ही टूटते हें|
मगर दिल वो कमबख्त हें, जो फिर से उम्मीद करता हें|
की शायद कभी,
शायद कही............

इंतज़ार शायद मोहब्बत का नसीब हें|
लेकिन जब मोहब्बत इंतज़ार करती हें,
तो समय थम जाता हें,
ज़माने रुक जाती हें|
मोहब्बत जिद्दी हें|
आखरी सास, आख धड़कन, आखरी पल तक
इंतज़ार कर सकती हें|
और कभी कभी, उसके बाद भी..............