“through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us. . ."

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

My first poem

I was on a train, the legendary Venad Express, from Trivandrum to Kottayam. A little away from where I sat, a young woman stood, alone among a group of men. There are certain women who may not be ‘beautiful’ or ‘pretty’ in the conventional sense, but they emanate a certain aura of attraction that is irresistible. It might be due to their physique, grace, sexiness, eyes, a body language that signals promiscuity, a promise of abandonment and great delight. Men are drawn towards them by the pull of an ‘animal’ attraction. This young woman was of that kind. After the initial yearning in my loins and then the realization that I am too old to desire her,  compared to the young hulks hovering around, I decided to observe the men instead of the attractive girl.

Some gaped at her; some pretended not to notice her but every now and then stole a glance at her with so bright a glare of lust in their eyes. Middle-aged men with hair and whiskers dyed in black, practically salivated.  There was a pregnant, awkward silence there, where each man seemed to envy the other or would even fight each other for having to share the privilege of just devouring the woman with their eyes. It was a morning train and most of the passengers were daily commuters. Men who moved through the aisle tried to brush past her; those who stood around her glared with hostility and silent warnings of suppressed aggression. The aisle was too crowded that she couldn’t shift from where she stood. Were the men pawing her? The train moved along and the passengers nodded and jerked in rhythm. Are the men swinging too close to her? The men around her had impassive countenances.

Then I looked at her and our eyes met. I could see fear in her gray eyes. She was frightened. She seemed to burn in the heat of lust that enveloped her. She looked at me with tremulous eyes that spoke of helplessness; a helplessness of her sexuality that she knew was affecting the men. She is lovely, I thought, if I were younger, I’d whisk her away to some secret island and live and love forever. In me, a mixture of love and lust twisted and coiled and rolled like snakes mating, and convoluted themselves into inextricable thongs of passion.

In my rooms at Kottayam that night I brooded over the girl – over a couple of whiskies. And lo! I wrote my first poem!

I, Your Eye

Where do thy eyes look?
Into my heart?
It skips a beat –
He stirs.

Behind the grayness
Lurks passion wild
Men smell heat- they sweat-
Lurch - an offering- of manhood.

Care! Mine  has
My heart in it, hold -
Close to thy cheek -
My heart, you.

July 2004
**********  Balachandran V, Trivandrum, 17-05-2011


  1. You said it,Balan. I have come across that kind of women.Not beautiful,but instantly attractive and captivating.They create an aching yearning in you.

    Do you know that the desire can be transmitted?.If she looked at you, and then looked again,your thoughts have reached her.It happens so.

    The poem is sensual.Your desire just took the form of words.

  2. This moment I am convinced no one else can knit such words of passion better than you...

    The sense of feeling, the thoughts that go in one's mind and the description of the lady......Balan - kudos to you.

    Phew! I cant stop marveling at your knack of words while writing about the delicate feeling of lust and sensuality - you are a master!

    You make it so appealing...

  3. Dear Sir, hats off to the brutal honesty with which you write. Terrific, absolutely terrific!

  4. Doc: I wish what you said was really true! ;-) About the desire reaching the other person!

    @B: Thanks, B! Women have been always an inspiration! :-D

    @Arun: thanks, buddy! When are you coming this way?

    Perhaps we shy from exposing such thoughts, but tell me, Arun, whenever friends get together, which is the foremost subject we talk about? ;-)

  5. Coincidentally I was reading Madhavy kutty and I notice her lines

    "Krishna, I am melting,
    Melting, melting
    Nothing remains
    But you"

    and also her

    “If love is a flower, lust is its fragrance. Without love, where is lust and without lust, can life be created?

  6. I loved the poem, true and as you said a couple of whiskies and things happen :)


  7. Mr B - made me travel with you and imagine the lady for myself :) thanks for sharing this attractive woman you found, with all of us !!

  8. @kavita, Bikram, Ousu : Glad you liked it.

    @Sumi: Why shouldn't we be honest, when we have nothing to be ashamed of?

    @Anil: Nice.


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