Narcissus

 

Eyes closed, I lie on my back

Following their arms mentally

As the masseurs run their fingers

Pressing, squeezing, rubbing in

The warm oil all over me.

 

From the sole of my feet, up

Through the ankles, calves, knees

And thighs, passing deftly

My privates and up to the torso

My hairy, broad chest, shoulders

And the nape of my neck. 

 

The loincloth barely leaves me clothed.

As the masseur's fingers and then the pouch

Filled with medicinal leaves soaked in starchy fluid

Spread warmth all over me,

I wonder if I might get an erection;

I don't. 

 

Turning me over, the warm oil and then

the slimy starch draw gluey patterns on my back.

My buttocks, rather big,

Now smooth, soft, rounded like melons.

The masseur squeezes that lump,

The inflammation still hot on my hips;

I squirm and groan, in pain and pleasure. 

 

Eyes closed, I lie on the wooden plank

Like a slab of meat, fresh from the butcher.

Eyes closed, I imagine myself

Watching me from above. 

 

This hunk of flesh that is me

That has been me, that'll me

For so many years!

We have been together ever since

The day I was born! 

 

I love it; with all its shortcomings.

I adore my penis, how so well I know him!

Every strand of hair, every scar, every wrinkle -

This living, breathing being that is me! 

 

There is nothing hidden, no secrets between us;

We took pleasure, pain we suffered together -

That is me, this me, together till the last breath! 

 

I look at myself with great kindness...

 

***** Bala Chandran V. Trivandrum. 07/07/2020

Mera Jasmine

 

I love it the way the flower buds lean.

Like young children leaning out of the window

Of a passing bus. 

 

I love it the way the flower buds glow in the light

Like virginal pubescent girls, eager to bloom,

Eager to love and be loved.

 

I love it, the sensuously soft petals

So smooth and tender to touch

Like the arm of one I no longer remember. 

 

All that remains, is her fragrance -

Long after the bloom and the withering

All that would remain is the fragrance

Of that flower in my memory. 

 

***** Balachandran, Trivandrum, 30.04.2020

Spider in the Toilet

 

In the claustrophobic cubicle

(the reason none other dare use it)

That is my exclusive toilet,

At the stroke of midnight

We engage in a silent conversation.

I sit on the seat, hardly a foot away from her.

Twisting myself awkwardly, I strain to focus.

in the dim light, her eyes twinkle

As the light of the headlamp lights her up.

I have known her ( or her ancestors) for long.

Very polite, seemingly embarrassed

Having to witness my nocturnal

Passage of the bowels, she pretends

To be busy with cleaning herself up.

Observing her through the camera

I am reminded of the many lonely nights

and days in toilets

I have spent in the company

of ants, spiders

Geckos and frogs

Who sit mute, still, watching me.

She isn't afraid of me; nor am I of her

In that companionable, comfortable

Camaraderie that I feel only with very few -

Dogs, dragonflies and arachnids of different hues.

A cubicle of a toilet is a safe place

For friends, outcasts, to come together.

****** . Balachandran V, Trivandrum 06.02.2019

An Incident at Myristica Creek

'It's impossible', said the ant to the fly
'To cross the stream in turbulence'.
Sitting on the edge of a leaf
The fly replied: ' Not if you can fly'.

'Ah, but you do have wings, pretty damsel,
Whereas I have only legs', mused the ant.
'Focus! Focus on the image of wings',
Said the fly, poised on the tip of a leaf
'And then you will gain wings, and fly'.

Wiser now, the ant focussed; he felt
The stirring in his heart and thought:
'Yes, yes, I can feel them growing, the wings
They sprout and fan rapid, they beat fast'.

The damselfly leapt; it flew, over the stream
And landed softly on the farther bank.
The ant dreamt; it jumped -
The moral is : only those with wings can fly.

****
Calocypha laidlawi aka Myristica Sapphire. Munnar, 2019

Coming of Age

The vine danced in the wind.
Swinging gently, the young one thought
'This is life; I will soon be an adult
I will take in many lovers
I will have offsprings in thousands
This beautiful land and brook mine'.

Above, on the low-hanging branch
Sat a Bee-eater, sharpening his beak
His eyes had a kindness one could not fathom
As he gazed on the young dragonfly.

*****
Epithemis mariae juvenile male, SVNP, 2019

Adieu

Darkness;  night has fallen.

In the distance, thunder rolls.

It is louder now; light flashes in the sky.

Rain pours.

I cannot hear anything but

The scream of the wind

And the screeching of the 

Lashing rains.

The thunder is louder now.

I am afraid. 

Lights have gone

In my master’s home.

I am alone in my cage.

I cannot hear anything

But the thunder; I am afraid.

I have to get out of my cage

And get to my master

To the warmth of his love

And the rug that I love. 

The thunder breaks my heart

I break out of my cage

I run to my master

But the door is closed. 

Where do I go, where do I 

Get away to?  I run, I run - 

I should have seen the well.

In the cold darkness

I think of my master

And I could feel his arms

Hugging me; he is kissing me. 

Looking up, I see the sky clearing up

The rains have stopped.

My master must be happy now

And dreaming of me in his sleep. 

******

Balachandran V, Trivandrum. 26.08.2019

Afterwards

The pain comes much later, first
in trickles, then in torrents
Washing off, cleansing
Wounds, hurts, the memories
The thoughts of should-haves
and should-have-nots.

First to heal are those
festering, anger for
What they did -
and did not.

Then, those of regret
of what you did -
and did not.

Then, like a sunbeam
breaking out through the clouds
The realization that everything
carried the fragrance of love
In spite of all
There was always love; love
lingering in the shadows.

Then comes peace
Within.

**** Bala Chandran, 24.07.2019

To Meera Nair, remembering your father, my friend, Murali Dharan

Painting: The death of Casamegas. Pablo Picasso

Stock taking

Once in a while on an autumn morning,
Take a walk.
Look up at the shady trees,
Smile at the dogs passing by
Gawk at the high rises
Cast a kind glance
At the rag picker staggering by.

Pause for the passing car
Gaze at the pretty lass
Look kindly at the world
Rushing by.

Winter will be here soon.
On an autumn morning
Take a walk
Taking stock of your life.

******
Balan strolling along. @ Indira Nagar, Bangalore. 5. 11. 2018

Jesus Bug Meets its End

Row, row, row
Up and down and right and left
Row, row, row
On the water with my legs
Row, row, row
Back and forth, forth and back,
Row, row - oh! oh! oh!
Oh bother, bro!
Strike me dead, am stuck in mud,
Ow, Ow, Ow!!!

********

Jesus Bug aka Water Strider, Wherever there is water.

Balachandran V, Silent Valley, 28.04.2018.

Resident Fairies

My home, oasis in the middle of concrete desert.

'Still at the old house?', they ask me -
Little do they know I am so proud and smug
That I live in the hand- me-down decrepit
Where my grandmother and other ghosts linger.

I see them; there he is, my father, hopping down
From the coconut frond to nibble the leftover rice
There she is, my mother, the bossy Jungle Crow
Trying to edge out the squirrel.

Grandmother comes in the evening, hooting,
Espying from behind the tree leaves
Muttering to herself, uttering inaudible curses
At me, her grandson, that impractical dreamer.

They are all there, cousins and aunts
Maids and men, children and dogs.
They come as they wish,
 As fairies and birds and butterflies.

Later, when the sun goes down
I hear them, flitting in and out
Silently, like flickering memories
In and out, of my old mango tree.

Who you might be, pretty Jay,
Quietly sitting, looking at me?

********* . Balachandran V . Trivandrum. 01.05.2018

Common Jay ( Graphium doson), @ home, Trivandrum 01.05.2018

Lord Toad

Why do you, Toad, look at me

So impassive, so self-assured? 

You sit - no, squat on all your fours

your warty skin, wrinkled and ridged

Your glands swollen with poison -

Think I didn't know?

Go forth, be not afraid of me! 

Go forth and procreate!

For you and your kind, here - 

A blade of grass, a dried leaf

A twig to play with -

The shade of the great trees - 

And over there, Kunthi, for your children!

****** . Balachandran V. Trivandrum 01.05.2018

Amor sans Frontiers

Do, do, do do, do
Do look, do, into my eyes
Croo, Croo, Croocroo, Crukcroo, croo
Croon me to sleep, my little love!

Don't you see me nodding my head
Bobbing my head up and down?
I too am an Owl, just like you
I too am a bird of skies so blue!

Don't you hear me flapping my wings
Don't you see me soaring in the sky?
Croo, Croo, Croocroo, Crukcroo, croo
Croon me to sleep, my little love!

How lovely it'd be to hold you close! 
To caress your fluffy ball of a head
To rub my nose on your beaky beak! 
To look into your eyes and kiss them close!

Don't you see me , little Owl, 
Don't you feel that I am you? 
Croo, Croo, Croocroo, Crukcroo, croo
Croon me to sleep, my little love!

***** . Balachandran V, Trivandrum 10.04.2018

Barred Jungle Owlet, Owlet-in-Residence.

Blue and Black

Among a cradle of leaves

A frog sits facing away from me.

Green leaves, touched with faint morning dew. 

The brook by the side is dry.

A butterfly flitters, faint beats of the wing

Ruffle the leaves.

No flowers, no drip of water drops.

Even the wind is still. 

I peer among the bushes

Vainly for a glimpse of a damselfly

Blue and black, who should be here.

I, the man, who beat everything 

Blue and black. 

**** Balachandran V, Trivandrum. 21.03.2018

The Solitary Hunter

The solitary hunter, the red dragonfly

Focused on food and the female passing by.

He sits on the tip of the blade
Of grass, as if holding a spear
To be driven deep into the heart
of his victim.

He scans the sky above,
The ground around,
Intent, intense -
Nothing escapes him
Nothing shall be allowed to escape.

To eat, to mate and procreate -
What else is there in this life -
To do?
So let's bicker, spit, rear up
And bare -
Our fangs and claws -
And when the time comes
Reveal the dagger up our sleeves
And stab on the back, deep.

Let us smear ourselves with the blood
Of our victims,
Gorge on their flesh, clack our teeth
Clean our faces of the filth
As we wait for the next victim.

The solitary hunter, the red dragonfly
Focused on food and the female passing by.

*******
Balachandran V . 23.10.2017 Trivandrum

In the Open

A deep sigh escapes my lips, as in the morning

I empty a full bladder, leaning to the coconut palm. 

Nothing more pleasurable than to empty oneself

Of urine and from one’s mind, yesterday’s thoughts.

I blush; a Black Drongo on the wires turns

Its head to look at me; a Magpie Robin trills a song.

The Kingfisher, hops down on a branch

Above my head and shakes his, as if in disapproval.

High above, against the darkening sky

The dragonflies swarm and circle

Bracing for the long journey ahead.

When do I, begin mine?

*********

Balachandran V, 13.1.2017

Looking at the Blue Sky sitting on a Terrace

Where you live, be it
By the side of the sea,
Or atop a mountain peak-
Both, though a fantasy
For most of us -

Where you live, be it
Cocooned in a cramped
Quarters or be it
a claustrophobic
One bhk -
Or like me
In an old crumbling
Dwelling about to fall apart-

Wherever be that you live
Or rot-
It would be good
To have a window
Or a space where you can
Look up
At the sky.

***** Balachandran V Trivandrum August 2016

Naught

Staring at the screen showing the folders,
Folders and folders and files and files
Piling up in the PC, in the laptop, in the netbook
And even in the external Hard Disks -
I am overwhelmed!

I grimace; how like my room, my house -
Why, even like my entire life -
Piling up junk, valuables irretrievably lost
in the mountains of files and drawers  and memories -

How frighteningly similar, for the hard disks to crash -
The house to crumble - and life to end -
And everything to come to naught!

*************   Balachandran V, 15.09.2016. Trivandrum

Homo sapiens hirsutus

Happening to glance at my left forearm the other day,
Dark brown skinned and hairy
I notice that more hair have turned white. 
Someday, if I live long enough,
My left forearm would turn all white
The darkness of my brown skin,
but not of my mind, hidden, hopefully.

Looking at the tuft, the bushy growth of hair
On my chest ( ah, not on my head!), again white ( why grey?)
I wistfully remember how, dark, how black it once were.

I hardly need a mirror these days, having not much
On the head to comb and pat them down.

I cling on (and at times nips at)
The vestige of my manhood, my moustache
Bristling, drooping bicycle handlebars,
The beard I dare not grow
For fear of incurring my partner’s wrath.

I remember -
Hair, growing, dark,
In dark and exciting places
Darkening shadows
Of the emerging adulthood.

Shadows lean, now.
They grow oblong, as the Sun approaches dusk.
One day, my precious hair,
Would be the first to catch fire…

************** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 07-09-2016

Image: courtesy Internet. Sketch by Salvatore Bruno.

Fish out of Water

In this heat, I sweat profuse.

I splash water at my armpits

The nape of my neck

And shameless,  over my genitals.

On the bed, in the nude

I fart and sigh, happy.

The dogs lie legs up in the air,

Too tired to smell the wind.

I choke at the chilled lemonade

Gurgling down my throat.

Out in the portico, a crow

Dips its beak and then jumps

Into the clay pan, splashing in the water.

I wish I were a fish,

Swishing my tail, chilling

With the mermaids.

But then, the fish are dying

And the birds and bees too.

Soon, we too would, for sure.

****** Balachandran V, Trivandrum 29.04.2016

 image courtesy: tbl0gging.wordpress.com/2013/02/25/merman/

“I can feel it coming in the air…”

It is in the air, the smell
Of rotting garbage,
Of burnt corpses hanging out from the bogies.
Of vomit and urine
From Kanniyah’s innards.
The stain of chewed betel
Or is it blood splattered
On the walls of democracy? 

It is in the air, the smell
Of fear.

Come out, come out of the cubicles
The partitions and the corridors
From behind the tinted glasses
Out to the open fields
Where we can hold our heads
High, without fear and breathe
The air of freedom.

************* Balachandran V. 25.02.2016