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

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Subjects of Love




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



9 comments:

  1. Thank you for sharing this..
    A lovely write up...

    Going through old pages...we do come across some gems like this!

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  2. I think one must pen poetry irrespective of what the other see in it or feel. You do not have to presume the reaction of the reader, be he or she, a cynic or an optimist. Your thoughts I guess are borne out of your feelings, emotions and experiences of love agony elation and anguish. So why do you worry about a comment that may be different from what you want to hear?

    As I mentioned once, the poems you pen cannot hide your personality. The real you is vivid. A poem of great feel,of love and agony , of the bygones that you regret and most of all the black pearl that you keep with care.Invaluable one at that.

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  3. @Kunal: Thank you, Kunal!

    @Anil:" So why do you worry about a comment that may be different from what you want to hear?" I cannot understand why you should assume that I worry about a comment or that there are comments that I do not want to hear. In the first place, I have always been grateful for healthy criticisms and observations; there was a time irrelevant and disrespectful comments irked me, but I have become wiser; I have learned to ignore them!

    You are right. the personality of the writer comes through his/her writing; comments too are a form of writing, isn't it?

    In any form of art, from acting to painting to writing, whatever be the subject the artist expresses through his medium, there will always be a personal element, a stamp of the individual. One cannot help the way one is. Peace reigns when one accept that truth; for those who don't, befall misery.

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  4. Having such an intense feel inside,it seems the letters are bleeding in certain areas.

    "Time exists only in our minds
    In the recesses of memory
    Facts of past and fictions of future..that's where I broke.

    Happy to hear that You have a published collection.Could you plz share who are the publishers ?

    On cynics belief of owning and possession brings love in itself,It's just another 'faith (dead belief) I have seen.Illogical and natural feelings have a limit.It's coming as a package,with a danger of it's own.Any parent or offspring,in the long run has to prove with life and dedication to get honoured with that 100%.That's where we lack often.

    Long live your honesty Balachandran !

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  5. "In spite of our different situations and nature, there could be one platform we could all stand together - the platform of love." So true!

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  6. moving




    Warm Aloha from Honolulu;

    Comfort Spiral



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  7. Dey Bala,

    I correct the word “worry” in my comment and would ask you to read as “observe”. I hope that will make things ok.

    “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.” I can recall what you are alluding to. The post which you blogged a while ago on “fathers love for the son” and the ensuing comments , some of which including mine did not agree with your observation. Now what else is this if not a dig at comments that did not agree with yours? Come on dey!



    No comments as yet in your blog has been rude and disrespectful as you feel. It is simply the reason of your thinking and your perception that the world out there have elements who are against your thoughts. Certainly there will be. And I see as a misplaced, the innuendo that I would mock at your observations in your posts because I may disagree. No one has sent in disrespectful comments on a solemn or poignant post of yours. And if pun cannot be taken as such and to mean as it should in lighter vein, can the reader or the one who comment can be of any help? And pun was never send in a post like this present one.

    One can bullshit in prose or any form of art but the personality cannot be camouflaged in poetry. Sometimes I wonder if I should even correct that position. Please come down and take my comment as a compliment and respect for the beautiful words you thread in verses and the feel it reflects. One can send in raving observations and the ones that will fascinate the Blog owner ,and just pamper for its own sake and attract him to one's blog or keep him in high spirits... What we want is our decision as the owner of a Blog. Telling this, I hope will not be construed as belittling your opinion.

    As Mélange observed and rightly so,"Having such an intense feel inside,it seems the letters are bleeding in certain areas."

    They are as she says gems , only that have the same mind that pens the verses when otherwise too.

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  8. @Anil: I have absolutely no idea what you are referring to. And if you think I am paranoiac, fine, thank you. Guess everybody can't be normal.

    Thanks for the modified kind words about the post. My blog is not an arena for verbal duels. My apologies if I have unintentionally offended you.

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  9. How true, yes, " ....there could be one platform we could all stand together - the platform of love." I am touched by the wonderful expression!
    Love visiting this space.

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