'the world of children'- poems on innocence

1.THY NAME IS...

Nethra  firmly believes 

We have failed miserably

In naming  Animals..

Especially, the cat..

While We call it

‘alex’

Or ‘sweety’

Or without reverence, simply as”hey cat’”

It  cries in dissent ...

‘meow’ – introducing itself

Which is its proper name..

Or so she believes...

In the naming game, i lose her..

'Vivek' seems  philistine  to her..

She calls me ivik..and i am just a four letter word after that

in her world.

She calls the dolls by their name

And talks to them in earnestness..

Without losing sense of the etiquettes, manners and such,

all the while..

In the older quarter of our house,

The grandma is slowly dying..

At the end of a life oceanic in itself

Confined, though to her single room

with a keyhole for eyes...

Nethra has not yet named

‘death’

2 .THE BATMAN'S SKY

i opened that window to the east
still
untainted by the algal chain of sentiments....
and then i wriggled my head out
and spread my hands
expecting feathers to sprout out
from the tips..
then realizing i am not the batman,
i looked below
where the groundfloor boy
accelerated on his invisible motorbike
at the speed of light...


3. THE MOST PRIMITIVE EMOTION
          

          1


grandma always warned of this world,
as being a big inert tortoise..

i said i didnt believe her..
her ancient knowledge came from her
tussles with the foxes and the crows
and the infamous vada that she eventually lost

i didnt give a damn..outside in the valley,
niveda was running across ..
a butterfly on legs
chasing rainbows and fireflies in the morning sun
she gives me those flying kisses as she speeds along..

i pointed to the grandma
how the world moved on a hare's legs..
a tortoise could never have hare's legs..

she grumbled and went away to the moon..
she set up  a pastry shop i guess is running well ..

                                     2

on a rainy night,
when the streets of this world
closed all their windows on you,

you , who imbibed the most primitive emotion
of this blood stained earth
let out a curse that has  haunted its womb
from the moment
our brother committed his first murder
with the jaw bone of a mammoth..
his brother lay dead in the mountain cave..
the jaw bone was the first crucifix..
revenge sustains human appetite..
killing gratifies the yearn of our song..

        3
on another sunny day,
from my porch , as i saw niveda watering the hibiscus in the garden,
 a soft spoken businessman stealthily
swindled her  playground..
buying the stars that mourned
at a price  he as usual, fixed....

on that night , niveda's eyes turned
the shade of the jawbone's stain..
as she slowly imbibes that primitive emotion
the earth  has always offered...

the world suddenly waddled like a huge tortoise..

as i looked up, i imagined grandma laughing..

the next new moon night,

they fixed the inauspicious dates

for the apocalypse.

4.THE SACRILEGES IN A SUPERMARKET COUNTER

now we were at the counter

to price our soaps and hair oil..

the wild child with her trolley

of chocolate boxes

and pink teddy bear dolls

hustled with her sullen mother

putting in a new pencil box..

the  orange t shirt counter man

looked at us

through eyes that have been through..

he lifted the bear by its ear

and put it under the red laser beam..

the chocolate box child

lifted her toy gun at this sacrilege

the  counter man refused to die..

5.  GREAT GRANDFATHER'S SPOTLESS WHITE HORSE

Hoofs used to fill my ears 

or did i really hear them..

white horses and red ants, 

coffee berries and the monsoon rain..

fiction and truth , starting where the other left off..

the dampened red soil of fantasy blending 

with the coffee brewing in the dim kitchen ..

in the nights i would miss my mom, 

and  clutch grandma's  arm, 

as she  told me of the great grandfather 

and his famed white horse ..

guarding the hills , the house and the shrubs..

he came from a very small tombstone

in the hill side..i remembered it had gathered moss

and he brandished his sword on those bad bad guys of childish universe..

and probably watched over my paper boats and cricket bats while i slept..

now the spider spins its web

in the northernmost corner -

and in the yellow plaster that peels away 

is written the loneliness of having to live out of a room..

where are the guardian angels..

and great grandfathers.

and their white horses.. 

what would he have become now.. 

the great grandfather?

a chauffeur ,

trading his horse for a limousine..?

in the world where everyone can be bought,

would he have become a seller..

6. PINK SKIES AND BLUE SKIES

Niveda wants to make a perfect paper boat..

in these dog days ,

she is counting on the mirages to set sail..

while we dissatisfy her 

with our pragmatic talk

she is learning again 

her alphabet lessons..

probably thinking 

 the grown-ups

must practice them too,

daily ,in secret,

long after she goes to sleep.

after all, W is not an easy alphabet..

not in the practice books..

she colors her skies pink 

and dresses up in bright yellow..

the crayons accompany her 

every afternoon in those siesta lands..

she sleeps with her mouth open 

always, three pillows around her..

i am contented with the imperfect hull,

anyway, 

i have stored it in my warm cupboards 

for the rainy days..

in the half completed drawing books,

i paint the skies blue

dress the little cartoon  in black and white..

for the offices of the future..

now the homework is over

and i remind myself 

to tell niveda 

to use the toy cars 

in these hot summer roads..

7.TO SARAVANYA... WHO STILL SPEAKS IN THE PUREST OF TONGUES

It was dark..
we are too afraid to reach our fingers
For the door..
The air  is suddenly sick
and sickness seems transferable
flowing  from one vessel to another and infects us
with mysterious slime..
Then she drops a chuckle
into our pestilential  universe
accustomed to one rupee coin donation boxes
kept in medical stores
for the welfare of the sick.....
But the lid broke open
like a dissected artery
and a thousand suns blossomed in the vulnerable flower heads that
turned towards the moon
to watch her smile

8.  A NEW SUNSET

 1

what did you do with your elder son today ?

did you refuse to sign his notebook

for not topping the class

did you forget the everyday kiss 

slumped in your dusty office files

did you scold him for chatting 

with the flower girl and the servant maid

                                     2

what will be the issue with your neighbour this evening?

will you quarrel over the 3 inches

his compound wall intruded on your side

or take up your wife's side

in the skirmishes of metro water pump

perhaps it will be the  war for the drumsticks his little daughter 

stole from your overhanging branches..

                            3

let the engines of production halt ,

turn this city over in its sleepless awake 

let the skyscrapers come down on their camel knees

stop teaching math and science and blood tainted human history

just for today

bring the children back home 

and bestow kisses in compound interest

for all the forgotten days..

take them to the beach and lie beside their tender hearts

twine their hands with yours

and teach them how to love

a new sunset is unfolding before your very eyes now..