Hamster Monologue

I was on my old well-known hamster-wheel. My tiny legs were hurting, and I was eagerly yearning for a glass of milk. The room was filled with Sam’s silent snores. Scanning and turning. I was getting distracted. Suddenly, my eyes got fixed beyond the curtains, and my limbs worked in rotation…afternoon...evening...night...morning...afternoon...evening...night...morning. With a fearsome yawn, and acrobatic movements, Sam crawled out of her bed and turned my cage towards her. She peered in and explained for the hundredth morning, “I’ve been having bad chest congestion, Ham. I wouldn’t snore on other days.” She snores louder on other days! I drank my cold milk and ate a few millet grains. My whole body was aching from strain. I was bored. Thoroughly bored! The metal surrounding me, the plastic wheel I run on, the paper I sleep on, and the grains I eat started to grow in size. I watched them and my eyes started popping out. Imagining me in a psycho-therapist’s office, I started running the wheel on that path. Faster, faster, and yet again, faster! I ran, ran and ran again. Then, I jumped off and sipped on that milk. That’s it! I was bored. I was bored, but not with these things. I was bored, with the hamster. I climbed on to the wheel, and slowly started it. Round and round and round again. “Sam, Sam,” I shouted. She turned aimlessly towards my direction and in a foolish manner I shouted at her, “Sam, I need to go. I need to run. Let me go,” as I said this, the cage turned into a kaleidoscope. It changed colours and turned again and again. My ears were twitching. Pink. Blue. Orange. Purple. Hope. “You look gorgeous on that wheel, Ham. I love you,” she said as she refilled my milk tray.

a disorderly sleeper who sighs

காலை நேரத்தில் ஒருப் பறவை என் வட்டத்திற்குள்ப் பறந்தது அவனை என் உள்ளங்கையில் பிடித்து ஒருக் கதை பாடினேன்: பனித்துளிகள் கலந்த மழை கதிர் விழிகள் கலந்த காதல் மின்னல்குடன் பந்தாடின. ஒருப் பறவை, சில பறவைகள், பல பறவைகள் என் வட்டத்தினுள் பறந்தன. ஒருப் புவி பிள்ளைகள் நம்மளை வளர்த்தது: நண்பர்கள், தோழிகள், காதலர்கள். ஒருப் புது நாளின் ஆதங்கம், உற்சாகம், மழை, வெய்யில், மேகம், கடல், காற்று யாவும் சுழன்றன. இரவுடன் பகல், நிலாவுடன் சூரியன், எதிர் புதிர் எலிகள், பூணைவிழி கதைகள். நான் பார்க்கும் சுவரில், கூரையில், வானத்தில்: பல கதைகள் நட்சத்திரங்கள் எனக்காகப் பாடிகின்றன. காதலர்கள், நண்பர்கள், தோழிகள், குடும்பங்கள் பெறுகின்றன. ஒருவர். சிலர். பலர். கைகளின் கன்னம்பூசி ஆடம். 1, 2, 3, 4...Out!

Translation: Morning, a bird flew into my circle I caught him in my hand, sang him a story of dews entwined in rains of sun eyes entwined in love playing ball with lightning - one bird, some birds, many birds flew in my circle. One earth grew us children: my friends, girlfriends, lovers. A new day's anxiety, excitement, rain, sun, cloud, sea, and air swirled. Night with day, moon with sun, opposite rats, cat-vision stories. On the wall, roof, and sky I watch: many stories. stars sing for me. Lovers, friends, girlfriends, families enlarge. one person, two people, many people. Hands' hide-and-seek game; 1, 2, 3, 4....Out!

Writing letters, and scrapbook pangs

A black file stares out of the window absorbing every colour. Paper cuts and pen-knives sharpened smile at some sticky glue. Creation. Evolution. Religion defied. Graffiti of microcosms develop a song. Words merge with colours, pastels with pencils, pens with paper, and music with thought. Rationality defied, yet hanging in the back of my mind. Reminders. Work. Wonders and beauties.

When you think you've understood the world, new beginnings end and new ends start. A beginning will always end and an end will always start. Let the colours flow and love black too. Nice, it is! Letter writing and scribbling carries on. Pigeons fly in cyber space finding random files. CDs and pen drives, remote controls and luxury cars roam about the roads. Zooooom! Vroooooom!

Keep your hands together. Tie them behind. Then, wave them. Call everyone near, where they belong, here. Within you and without yourself in them and with them in you, we live. Ears and noses sing. Lips smell and necks curve. A cut out poster stares across the room. "Colours," it cries.

Spaced in...

Night Song

When a wild goose flies above my head,
I feel I've forgotten what I've said.
What's right or wrong, now memory fails;
Roadsides play country songs and love prevails.

Remote controls and tree tops dance together,
And our motorbike rides talking on weather -
Small talk bellows, hearing you by my side.
North or South? The goose can't decide.

Hold that hip swing and breeze-flowing skirts,
I watch you from far, as our boots dance in spurts;
I hear your voice turns faint, when old Beauty is born.
Skies fall on our heads and I am gone!

Loudness.

Rivers canned and running, rolling on pebbles' trance, monotonous beats resonate. Behind water falls - growth of fantasies, dark worlds of light, vision and feeling fused.

Covered Canopies

As the morning dew melted, we stepped out on to the porch. The puddles danced in our garden, where our reflections went on a spree. High above our heads, the canopies were ceased, by the wretched beauty spun. A spider web - we could see. The black little spider, swung off her perch, dangling down the window rail - her new advent began. Reluctant neighbours. We were watching and counting the sentenced little bugs caught in her world.

Bulb heads!

A night bulb flickers to a goodnight refuge Cornered and gold Hair strands shine beauty with brilliance Rolling computer chair Singing old tunes, listening to throat strain and eager music crack - alone. Fascinations of light and sound too merge. Lines of rays travel across eons to eyes. Huge shadows, simple laughter.