Whatever cynics may say, love remains the predominant emotion in life forms. For those of us who love, except for the rare oddities, love for parents, spouse and children is the most intense, deep and true. Again, cynics would say that it is so because you own them, possess them. For men, mother is the epitome of all, the last resort, the womb to which they want to go back; nothing is more secure than your mother's lap.
In my earlier poems (2004 -2007) the major theme was love - love for parents, for wife and son, for the dogs and distress at losing love. When I showed the manuscript of the collection to Prof.Hridyakumari teacher ( a close friend of my mother and one of the few women for whom I have great respect and love) said that she was surprised that there weren't many poems on nature and travel because, for her I was synonymous with the two. It remains my proudest day when she released my collection of poems and said many kind words; she even read out a couple and praised them.
I published less than 50% in book form; another 30% appeared in the blog or poetry website. Others remained in the dark. Once in a while I go through them and put it here, sharing them with you. They may not be of the top order, they may reek in sentiments - but such sentiments and emotions that I share with you are not uncommon. Why do I tell you all this? Because I feel that in spite of our different situations and nature, there could be one platform we could all stand together - the platform of love.
A Sense of Time
How silly is it of science
To say that senses are only five!
How insensitive is it of science
To censure those beyond the ken!
Eyes screwed up tightly
Head turned sideways abruptly
Lips clamped firmly
Trying to shut in momentarily.
Would it, please, go away
Images, sounds, the smells,
Words uttered, heard, this sense
Of pain, wrenching my heart?
Time exists only in our minds
In the recesses of memory
Facts of past and fictions of future
Time stands still only for those
Who cannot remember anymore.
Who cannot remember anymore
What it was like to feel the wind
What it was like to smell the flowers
What it was like to watch the dawn
What it was like to love and be loved.
Mother, could you remember, how
It felt when you held me up
The softness of my cheeks, the light
In my eyes that lit up your heart?
What, mother, did you feel
Listening to my gurgling laughter
The smell of my skin, soft
My fingers gripping yours?
Mother, my eyes are squeezed tight
But I still see yours wide open
Staring at the nothingness
That waited, patiently, by your bed.
Time must have stopped for you
Long ago, in the grip of the Disease
For me, now, Time pauses-
Momentarily, waiting for oblivion.
But, then, once in the twilight,
When shadows danced in and out,
You kissed my hand and looked at me
When memory flitted like moonlight
From behind the coconut fronds.
The time has come, mother
For me to give you one last hug
For me to lift you up
For once, first and the very last time.
How silly is it of science
To limit us to the obvious
When waves crash and shatter all
When whimpering, you wait for the next.
Balachandran, Kottayam 30.06.2005