How facetious it would seem to assume what I write in the form of verse are poems! Though a collection has been published and well-received by the readers and several poems further on, I still hesitate to bracket my verses as poems; to be honest, I am embarrassed.
Death, let it be the last thing in our life or let it be a passage to another; either way, it is inevitable. And I thought of the leaf falling, seemingly without any care. Then I suddenly remembered the unforgettable photo from 9/11. I have looked at it for long, thinking of that man, on his fall to death, what must have he been thinking, waiting, in those few seconds to the final THUD on the ground. I realized that I could connect these, the falling man and the falling leaf and my own preoccupation with death.
But tell me honestly, did you like the poem? Until I know that, like the purpose of life is living, that of the poem would be left hanging in mid-air!
Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 06.10.2010