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

Thursday, July 5, 2012


Lying on my left side, body bared
Waiting for the cold creamed  sensor
Feeling my heart beneath the hair and flesh
I smelt the perfume of the girl,
The warmth, the softness of her arm across my chest 
And like an excited adolescent thought
She had her breast pressed against my back.
I giggled inside, fantasizing 
The girl taking a fancy
To my broad, hairy, muscled chest. 

I smiled at myself, my silliness, my innocence
Happy that even the imagination 
Of the touch of a young body could rouse me.

In her soft voice she asked me after my health
About my BP, cholesterol, and the pains 
All the while I was thinking how nice it would be 
To press my nose against the back of her beautiful neck
And breathe her in, deep. 

'Nothing much wrong here', she said
'But take care, don't let it worsen, take the medicines'. 

My heart was okay for the time being
I could hear it pumping blood
That old tireless machine
Beating on,  for its fifty fifth year. 
I could imagine it, or if I turned around
See it in the screen, my heart, my little heart
Thickening walls, weakening muscles
Beating on, on and on. 

Echo, echoes of the past
Echoes of the heartbeats, of heartbreaks,
Echoes of youth, of love...

In the air-conditioned intimacy
We were together, silent
Except for the loud thuds of my heart
The churning, the sloshing around of my blood.

Her arm resting lightly on my chest
I looked at her graceful fingers, a glimpse-
Before she moved her hand away.

I could fall in love with 
All the women in the world.  

**********  Balachandran V, Trivandrum 05.07.2012


  1. As B smiled, I roll down and laughed.
    But you are not without company , either the heart skips many a beat or beat with unseen vigour when you have a lass bending over and press the scanning gadget.

    The poem is pretty well done.
    Also reminds me of the times I lain for ECG test , perhaps will make a small post.

  2. @B: Only smile? In Frederico Felllini's Amarcord, there is a character who is slightly demented, climbs up a tree and wails ' I want a woman'. In the poem, I have typically narrated a simple incident, but I intended to convey the pathos, the pangs, the insatiable craving of man for woman, for love. You may not believe me, but only the situation is true; the rest is a mixture of imagination and truth. I don't want to tell you which is true and which is fiction, that would spoil it.

    Behind the lines, B, I am trying to hint at many deeper things. It is about the yearning of an old man, it is about ageing, it is grieving about lost youth, it is about finding happiness in old age, it is about the passion for beauty, for women, it is about love, love, love.

    Perhaps you would have understood my writing better if you had reflected upon it. There is more to the words you see. You either see it or you don't. It is abstract in its own way.

  3. @Anil: it is not about the 'lecherous old man'that I might be. It is not about lust. It is just about human condition...

  4. Dey,

    The pathos ,the subtlety and all subsumed in those lines have been well understood.
    And your reply to Bindu tells the other part as well. So there is no denying the fact that aged, old or in prime youth male is fantastically lecherous each in his own way.

  5. Balachandran,I feel it awkward you describing your own thoughts beneath the lines.I am referring to your post 'passion poetry' as well here.The beauty lies in conceiving in one's way it seems.I would have left as usual,but somehow.

    It's Jovial in a way to feel yourself young.

    I smiled at myself, my silliness, my innocence
    Happy that even the imagination
    Of the touch of a young body could rouse me.
    But dear poet,It's reality,the passion or lust.What's this 'love' there ? haha.

    Echo, echoes of the past
    Echoes of the heartbeats, of heartbreaks,
    Echoes of youth, of love...

    Let it beat,beat and LIVE...

  6. @Melange: Love and lust aren't much different; one is the mental and the other, the physical expression of the desire - for the person. Neither are very far from each other; the feeling of love is closely followed by the sexual desire; and vice-versa. Love is lust, tender.

  7. Balan,

    I did I did :) I smiled because of the difference in interpretation of love among men and women. As you explained to Melange your version of love, I doubt if every women would agree to that. I got reminded of these lines "Man gives love to have sex and woman gives sex to have love." Pardon the crude use of word sex there.

  8. And yes Balan, I understood the pangs behind those lines...of aging, of lose youth...and behind these lines the helplessness

  9. @Insignia: Ok, your first comment was too brief. Now that you said it, the difference of interpretation of love for men and women - I don't know about women, or other men, but like in many poems I have mentioned, love and lust to me aren't quite separate. I don't know about the general meaning of 'lust', but I understand it as sexual desire. These are quite subtle matters and differ from individual to individual.

    Personally, I like this poem very much! :-)


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