Making of "Suicide" and "Dreams in a Matchbox"

Last week will go into my book of memories. Yet another time, I created something satisfying to me. I never thought I could write poem on a given theme and time. Always felt it flows in your feel. But to my surprise, I was able to write the two poems on the themes "Change" and "Childhood". I never expected I would even qualify for next round. No modesty here. This is due to the fact that there cannot be any measuring gauge for literature and also I started writing based on Rabindranath Tagore's lines, "..those who is not productive in other fields, can at least produce literature".

Coming back to the discussion, the first theme given to us for the poetry was "Childhood". Also we were told not to google for poems. I decided to write a very simple poem by recycling some of my earlier verses. And this is not any plagiarism. This is my own work. There came Sath and told me to include a central idea in the poem and gave one. Child Labour. I could easily relate my town. Started working on it and came up with what is called "Dreams in a Matchbox". Looked good. I read few of the others' poems. They were good and some of their lines and thoughts were terrific.

To my surprise, I got through and went to the finals. Here, we were given one hour time and a theme, "Change". I could not think of anything. Was blank for the first 40 minutes. I tried to write something on love (which was easy) and then call it 'my first change in my life'. What a stinking thought !! (WTF) At last, thought of the weather outside, then about the Bangalore city, then about the dry weather, then about the change in the weather of the city, then about the theme Change, then about the sub-theme 'Climate Change'. Phew, got a theme finally. But when it came to describing the earlier climate in Bangalore, I chose to recycle my earlier verses and stay green :D

This yielded the poem "Suicide". I wholeheartedly liked this piece of my work than the earlier one. I got the first prize. Several people appreciated the poem. I was happy only until when I came to know that 22 April is Earth Day which I did not know when I wrote it. Shame! I didn't regret for I am just committing a suicide. (Read the poem posted to understand this)

The other work which took the hell out of me and was equally satisfactory was the tourist promotion for Somalia. I am OK with the entire work of ours. But I know I just did not meet the internal standards I set for myself. Long way to go.

Bye for now. Have some Most Important Moments of Life to catch by.

- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are the strongest to handle these toughest...

Suicide

Visvanathan Balasaravanan

Moist gale. Hissing drizzle. Shy trees.
The garden hugged me into itself.

‘Those maiden city bus rides.
Images that trespass through my window…
Wet tree trunk. Fresh road signs.
Drenched leaves, that make the sky green.
Mobile chat outlets. Chatters on mobile.
Family crammed in an umbrella.
Attached lovers on motorcycles.
And the girl in the window of the other bus.’
Those pluvial scenes, I felt.

Enough of the past, that didn’t last.
Sun empires now.
Shrouding the flowers and leaves,
stood tall, the walls we made.
Mass burial, we walk over everyday.

The day is not so far.
When we will be buried and walked over.
Who said we killed the nature?
Just a Suicide, we are committing.


- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are the strongest to handle these toughest...

Dreams in a Matchbox

Visvanathan Balasaravanan

A time,
when life had only beginnings…
We met. Our eyes smiled.
I gave my kite; you gave your matchbox.

With time vaporing out, together, we played.
Dry glue covered our fingers; had different reasons.
I made kites, pasting it to a thread.
You made matchboxes, to buy your bread.

That naughty finger of mine,
locked into your bangles that shine,
pulled them out to break.
Broken bangles made your eyes brim.
You pushed me strongly, against my chest,
and ran crying, ‘Maa…’

Disappearing into the darkness,
you returned no more.
My heart whispered yours, “Sleep deep.
You have dreams to catch by.
In your life, only dreams to catch by. Bye”


- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are
the strongest to handle these toughest...

Whole in a Part

Whole in a Part
Visvanathan Balasaravanan

Stretching
far far away,
very far away,
(like the first-love joy)
The Universe.

Universe.
The whole.
Where shall I fix its boundary?
For any big THING, will have its boundary.
May be after many solar systems,
so many galaxies and so many…

Its boundary I shall find.

What will after that boundary be?

A uni-Universe, shall I assume.
Again, beyond uni-Univese?
May be
non-ending space…
or non-ending boundary after boundaries
and even then,
everything, being a single THING,
has its boundary.

Where is it?

Small small things…
the smallest thing…
The Atom.

The indivisible Part – as they say.
Divided the small thing
into much smaller things;
electrons, protons, neutrons.

What’s an electron or
its colleagues, inside?
For any small THING
will have something Inside.

What’s Inside ‘that something’?
a some-Something, shall I assume.
Again, inside some-Something?

Can
The Boundary of the Universe be Inside an Atom? *

How can I
end?
When I think of
endless THINGS…

____________________________________________________
*May be that's why atom bomb breaks to yield lots of energy !


- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are the strongest to handle these toughest...

Waterworks

__Waterworks_complete verses__

...he who is not productive in other fields can atleast produce literature.
Rabindranath Tagore

Waterworks
Visvanathan Balasaravanan

to
the deserted room of my home
(the factory of my creative works)

1. the age of innocence

I looked at you.
You too.
Our eyes smiled.
I gave my train;
you gave your car.
With time passing out,
together, we played.
Then, my finger
(locked into your bangle)
pulled it out.
The broken bangles
made your eyes brim...
You pushed me strongly,
against my chest by two inches
and ran crying,
"Mummy..."

2. the age of infatuation and love

I looked at you.
You too.
Our eyes got locked.
We knew what we're doing,
but we don't.
Why did I see you
for five seconds or more?
or why did I?
Aching to be life partners?
Why did I prefer death
without you?
Who are you?
what is this happening between us?
Why am I happy?
Is this, the love?

3. the age of romance and sex

I looked at you.
You too.
Our fingers penetrated
through one another.
We're coupled
by the social factor.
Nescient, we're about life.
Then decision we took:
'We would never separate
under any circumstances in life.'
Consummating throughout the day,
playing with our antenatal clothing,
with innumerous kisses and infinite presses,
we explored ourselves
in amorous manner.
With dreams for the future,
everyday, we cleared.

4. the age of happiness

I looked at you.
You too.
Tightly pressed
were our hands with one-another.
As you're taken away by the nurses,
I was fidgeting. Few moments later,
nurse came, told me,
'It's a girl!'
I ran to you and
you nestled against me,
with tears and smiles.
The nascent life was poised
between our hands.
We smiled and thought:
Miracle, we made.
Achievement, we did.
A life, we created.

5. the age of responsibility

I looked at you.
You too.
We stood separated,
by a little 'life'.
We forgot eachother;
But not really.
In some day's heavy work,
in my head-ache,
when your hands svelted
on my head,
I felt... I felt you.
And then as my hands
would go around you,
we heard,
'Pa..., Ma..., where are you ?'

6. the age of responsibility

I looked at you.
You too.
Having worked out our duties,
we sat back in the chairs,
of 'our' home in the
remoteness of the town.
With the red-blue clouds
of the evening, we would
rewind to our memories, and move
forward to our dreams.
And when you suffered with that
chronic pain in your legs, and
when I applied the ointment,
you said to me,
'I feel... I feel you.'

7. the age of care

I looked at you.
You too.
And you sat by my side.
My trembling hand
caressed yours.
Landed, your head
on my shoulder.
I took your head
within my hands, and
when I placed a kiss
on your wrinkled forehead,
you looked into my eyes
and asked,
'Will you leave me ?
or will I ?'

8. the age of immortality

I never looked at you, afterwards.
You too.
You and me
are separated beyond reach
for fate's sake.
Might have I died
or you might have.
But not our love, care and affection.
With those,
after death, we live.

- the most blessed are those who encounter the toughest times... because, God thought you are the strongest to handle these toughest...