Blue Mango Books

literature forum awards

2010-12-01T20:12:00.000-08:00

ലിറ്ററേച്ചർ ഫോറം അവാർഡുകൾ

പുരസ്കാര സങ്കല്പ്പത്തെ തന്നെ തിരുത്തികൊണ്ട് വ്യത്യസ്ത മേഖലയിലെ
അറിയപ്പെടാത്ത പ്രതിഭകളെ പുരസ്കാരം നല്കി ആദരിക്കുന്നു.
സാഹിത്യം, കല, മരാമത്ത്, സർക്കസ്, ദിവസക്കൂലി,മോട്ടോർ സർവ്വീസ്, ഭക്ഷണ വിതരണം, പാചകം, തുടങ്ങിയ മേഖലകളിൽ വർഷങ്ങളായി തിളങ്ങുന്നവരെയാണ്‌ ആദരിക്കുന്നത് .
കേരളതിനു പുറത്തുള്ളവരെയും പരിഗണിക്കും. പ്രശംസാ പത്രവും ക്യാഷ് അവാർഡും അടങ്ങുന്നതാണ്‌ പുരസ്കാരം.

നിർദ്ദേശങ്ങൾ bluemangobooks@gmail.com എന്ന മെയിലിൽ

അയക്കുക.ഉടനെ.
അവാർഡുകൾ ബ്ളൂമാംഗോ ബുക്സ് സ്പോൺസർ ചെയ്യുന്നു

ente manifesto by m k harikumar

2010-10-26T00:44:00.000-07:00

green books

trichur-1

0487 2422515

link : m k harikumar

book review [kalakaumudi]

2010-04-11T02:59:00.000-07:00

book review by r uthaman
books
1]flowers on the violin
poems
[english]
by winnie j panicker
2] pranayavasishtangal
poems
[malayalam]
by sreedevi nair
3]meghathazhvara
poems
[malayalam]
by sreedevi nair

interview with winnie j panicker

2010-02-15T06:26:00.000-08:00

'If poetry is a lie then the emotions and thoughts of every individual is a lie'.

How do you feel the silence between your two poems?
For me, poetry does not happen always and when there is a poem in me I need very less time to write it. The challenge is for an idea to get to me, for which I need a lot of time since I don’t search or look for ideas or inspirations but wait for them to come to me. I believe that any work or creation that is created should leave a mark of satisfaction within the creator. Being happy and at the same time knowing the imperfections in the work done and having a carving to create better work of art by searching and pushing yourself as a creator is the most important element in making a successful piece of art. I believe that one needs lots of patience and should take lots of time to think properly and come out with a good work. Works done with time constraints or works done in a hassle will always be incomplete works of art and rarely gives the full satisfaction to the creator and it degrades the quality of the art. As Wordsworth said, “"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity".

My first book ‘Loveliness of Dawn’ was published in 2004. The Gap of four years has allowed me to develop better as a poet. I feel it is a positive sign that there is a distance between anything that you do, only then will there be a feel of contentment.

What is the political activity of a poem

A poem is a medium through which a poet can express his/her feelings and I think politics is a feeling. It can be used as a political tool that raises its voice against the corruption and ills of the society. A poet must be able to or at least have an intention to bring change in the society through his or her works. There are works of great artists which portray strong feelings in the form of protests, rage, anger, love, emotions, etc which have immensely influenced people. A poem must have the capability to raise a provoking feel in the reader. I think positive change in the socity through a poem is the political activity of a poem and a poet.

Is poetry itself a lie, why?

Poetry is not a lie. It is a mixture of many ingredients put together. Emotions, thoughts, imaginations, facts, colours, etc. If poetry is a lie then the emotions and thoughts of every individual is a lie. The ideas that the poet has expressed may not be present in real, but it was a result of the imagination and fantasy of the poet. When one says ‘My love is like a red red rose’, it does not mean that the ‘love’ in literal terms is like a rose. It means that the intensity of love is so deep that the poet cannot express it with one word. Poetry is a medium where one can take complete freedom in expressing anything one feels. Nothing is wrong in poetry as long as the poet has his reasons to explain his work.

In a commercial world, poems make illusions?

Poem is a form of art and when a price tag is put on any art work, it makes the whole process a lot confusing because it is impossible to rate or measure an art work with any given criteria. If in a commercial world poems makes illusions, then I feel that this illusion comes out this confusion caused by trying to measure an immeasurable work like art.

Is poem is prose or poetry?

Poetry has different kinds of ways in which one can write a poem. There is prose type of poetry too. A poem can be written in any form. Let it be a Villanelle, Ballad, Ode, Sonnet, Free Verse, or anything, if it is written in poetic form, then it is poetry. It is said that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder same way I think that a poem can also be taken differently by different readers.

What is your new project?
As I have mentioned earlier I am never in search of poems and so I don’t think of any projects as such. I guess the poetry that comes out of me is the projects I work on.

What do you feel about the publication and release of your new book ' flowers on the violin'?

I believe that my new book ‘flowers on the violin ‘ is a stepping stone in my carrier as a poet and as an individual. The release of my book felt like a dream come true and I will cherish the moment for the rest of my life. I am thankful to everyone who has helped me throughout and everyone who was present at the function. Special thanks to my publisher Harikumar Sir, C.P Rajasekharan sir, Kaladharan Sir, Aniyan sir. Nizar Kathunkal and all the others who blessed me with their presence.

Select interesting periodicals you follow.
I am a regular reader of The Hindu. Apart from that I read The Week, Frontline, Kalakaumudi, Indian Express and The Times of India. I follow some of the blogs that has captured my attention as I myself am a regular blogger. I think the new concepts like blogging, tweeting etc, has opened up a new platform for all who wishes to express themselves to the world. They say world has become a small place and I think with that so has people and their emotions.

What is your Bangalore experience, higher study, film making, screen writing etc?
I am pursuing my Masters of Science in Communication at Christ University, Bangalore. It is entirely a different city when you compare it with Kerala. The life is dynamic and fast and a lot different in the perspective of lifestyle and living styles.

I am very interested in movies and other forms of visual arts like short films documentaries. I have been a part of a few such ventures and finds it very satisfying.

After masters I am planning to begin an advertising agency along with my friend and also teach media in schools and Undergraduate colleges.

new books

2010-01-23T16:21:00.000-08:00

pranayavasishtangal

poems

sreedevinair

bluemango books

price. rs 55/

പ്രണയാവശിഷ്ടങ്ങള്‍

back cover

meghathazhvara

മേഘതാഴ്വര

poems
sreedevinair
bluemangobooks
price. rs 55/

back cover

bluemango books - new book release 24/ 12/ 2009

2009-12-14T17:01:00.000-08:00

metro vartha, dec. 28, 2009

the press release 'flowers on the violin'
c p rajasekharan, noted writer release the book by giving the copy to famous painter t kaladharan.presence: m k harikumar, prof nizar kuttumgal, mathew nellickunnu, k s aniyan

winnie j panicker

book cover

back cover
flowers on the violin

poems

winnie j panicker

bluemangobooks

bluemangobooks@gmail.com

winnie panicker blog

books avalable at

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calicut

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h&c stores

south junction[jose]

near coffee house

ernakulam

h&c stores

south bazar

high road

trichur 1

pho.0487 2421462

h&c stores

bhadra centre

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pho.

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near shenoys junction

ernakulam

bluemango books

2009-12-14T06:46:00.000-08:00

bluemango books
international poetry awards

suggestions invited
bluemangobooks@gmail.com

athmayanangalute khasak/ indian express report

2009-11-26T06:03:00.000-08:00

indian express/ expresso/26 nov, 2009

akshara jaalakam in kalakaumudi/ 1777

2009-09-22T02:26:00.001-07:00

m k harikumar's column, 27 sept . 2009

ആഴിയുടെ അഗാധതയില്‍-മാത്യു നെല്ലിക്കുന്ന്

2009-07-03T12:18:00.000-07:00

കേരളത്തിലെ കുടുംബ ബന്ധങ്ങളില്‍ ഈ അടുത്ത നാളുകളില്‍ ഉണ്ടായിരുന്ന
മാറ്റങ്ങള്‍,മനുഷ്യന്‍റെ മാനസികാരോഗ്യം വളരെ താഴ്ന്നുപോയതായി
സൂചിപ്പിക്കുന്നു.
കൂട്ടുകുടുംബങ്ങളുടെ തകര്‍ച്ചയും അണുകുടുംബങ്ങളുടെ
ഉദയവും മലയാളി മനസ്സിന്‍റെ നന്‍മയും സ്നേഹവും പങ്കുവെക്കലും ഒന്നും
ഇല്ലാതെയാക്കി. കുടുംബബന്ധങ്ങളുടെ തകര്‍ച്ചയും ഉപഭോഗസംസ്ക്കാരങ്ങളുടെ
ആവിര്‍ഭാവം മൂലമുണ്ടായ സാമ്പത്തിക അസമത്വങ്ങളും കുടുംബങ്ങളില്‍
വ്യക്തികള്‍ തമ്മിലുള്ള അകല്‍ച്ചക്ക്‌ വേഗതകൂട്ടി.

നന്‍മകളുടെ കേദാരമായിരുന്ന കുടുംബങ്ങളുടെ കൂട്ട ആത്മഹത്യ നിത്യസംഭവങ്ങളായി മാറി.
കുടുംബങ്ങളിലെ സ്നേഹരാഹിത്യവും സംശയങ്ങളുടെ നീരാളിപ്പിടുത്തവും
സാമ്പത്തികപ്രശ്നങ്ങളും മുഖ്യകാരണങ്ങളായി കാണാവുന്നതാണ്‌. ധാര്‍മ്മികതയും
ആധ്യാത്മികതയും മനുഷ്യനില്‍ കുറഞ്ഞു. ടെലിവിഷനും ഇന്‍റ്റെര്‍നെറ്റും
മൊബൈല്‍ ഫോണുകളും കുടുംബങ്ങളിലെ തുറന്നുള്ള സംസാരം ഇല്ലാതാക്കി.

ആധുനികവത്ക്കരണത്തിന്‍റെ ഫലമായി രൂപം കൊണ്ട പുത്തന്‍ ചിന്താഗതികള്‍ മനുഷ്യനെ
പണത്തിന്‍റെ അടിമകളാക്കിതീര്‍ത്തു. ഏതു കുടില മാര്‍ഗമുപയോഗിച്ച്‌ പണം
സമ്പാദിക്കാനുള്ള വ്യഗ്രത അവനില്‍ രൂപം കൊണ്ടു. തല്‍ഫലമായി
കുടുംബബന്ധങ്ങള്‍ പണത്തിനു വഴി മാറി. പണത്തിനു മീതെ പരുന്തും പറക്കില്ല
എന്ന് കേരളത്തിലെ ജനങ്ങള്‍ ഉരുവിട്ടു പഠിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു.വിദ്യാഭ്യാസ
സ്ഥാപനങ്ങളില്‍ സ്വായത്തമാക്കിയിരുന്ന നന്‍മയുടേയും സ്നേഹത്തിന്‍റെയും
പാഠങ്ങള്‍ ,ഇന്ന് പഠനരീതിമാറ്റി ശാസ്ത്രീയമായ കാര്യങ്ങള്‍ മാത്രം
ഉള്‍ക്കൊള്ളിച്ചുകൊണ്ടുള്ള പാഠ്യപദ്ധതി വന്നതിനാല്‍
നഷ്ടപ്പെട്ടുപോയിരിക്കുന്നു.

കുട്ടികള്‍ തമ്മില്‍ മത്സരചിന്താഗതിവളരുകയും പരസ്പരമുള്ള സ്നേഹബന്ധങ്ങള്‍ മുറിഞ്ഞുപോകുകയും
ചെയ്തിരിക്കുന്നു.ജീവിതമൂല്യങ്ങള്‍ക്ക്‌ ഒരു വിലയും കല്‍പ്പിക്കാത്ത ഒരു
സമൂഹമായി നാം കുട്ടികളെ വളര്‍ത്തിയെടുക്കുകയാണ്‌വിദ്യാഭ്യാസത്തില്‍
ഇന്ത്യയില്‍ ഏറ്റവും മുന്‍പന്തിയില്‍ നില്‍ക്കുന്ന കേരളം മറ്റു പല
കാര്യങ്ങളിലും കൂടി ഒന്നാം സ്ഥാനത്താണെന്ന് പത്രവാര്‍ത്തകളിലൂടെ
മനസ്സിലാക്കാന്‍ സാധിച്ചു.കൂട്ടാത്മഹത്യ സ്ത്രീപീഡനങ്ങള്‍ ,മദ്യപാനം,
വിവാഹമോചനം എന്നിവയില്‍ കേരളത്തിന്‍റെ പ്രാമുഖ്യം ചെറുതല്ല.അറിവു്‌
കൂടിയിട്ടും ധാര്‍മ്മികതയുടെ കാര്യത്തില്‍ കേരളം നേരിടുന്ന പ്രതിസന്ധി
വളരെ സങ്കീര്‍ണമാണ്‌.
ജീവിതശൈലിയിലെ വ്യതിയാനം മനസ്സിനെ എന്നും അസംതൃപ്ത മേഖലയില്‍ തന്നെ നിര്‍ത്തുകയാണ്‌.അയല്‍ക്കാരന്‍വാങ്ങിച്ചുകൂട്ടുന്ന സാധനങ്ങളുടെ ലിസ്റ്റു നോക്കി തങ്ങള്‍ക്കും അതുപോലെ
വേണമെന്ന അത്യാഗ്രഹം വഴി സാമ്പത്തിക തകര്‍ച്ചയും
നിരവധിയാണ്‌. വരവറിഞ്ഞു ചിലവാക്കണം എന്ന് പണ്ടുള്ളവര്‍
പറഞ്ഞിട്ടുള്ളതൊക്കെ ഇന്നാര്‍ക്കാണ്‌ മനസ്സിലാവുക!!മദ്യപാന വിപത്ത്‌
കേരളീയ കുടുംബങ്ങളെയാകെ തകിടം മറിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു.കേരളത്തിന്‍

റെ ഏതു
ജംഗ്ഷനില്‍ ചെന്നാലും നീണ്ട ക്യൂ കാണാം. മദ്യ ഷാപ്പുകളുടെ മുമ്പില്‍.
സ്കൂള്‍കുട്ടികളിലും യുവജനങ്ങളുടെ ഇടയിലും മദ്യപാനം ഒരു ഫാഷനായി മാറി.
പെണ്‍കുട്ടികളും നന്നായി കുടിച്ചുതുടങ്ങിയിരിക്കുന്നു ഇന്ന് മലയാളികള്‍
എവിടെയെല്ലാം ഒത്തുകൂടിയാലും ജനനത്തിനും മരണത്തിനും പെരുന്നാളുകള്‍ക്കും
വീടുമാറ്റത്തിനും വിവാഹത്തിനും മറ്റാഘോഷങ്ങള്‍ക്കും
വിദേശത്തുനിന്നെത്തുമ്പോഴുമെല്ലാം മദ്യമില്ലാതെ നമുക്കെന്താഘോഷം എന്ന
നിലയിലാണ്‌. ഇതിന്‍റെയെല്ലാം തിക്തഫലങ്ങളും അനുഭവിക്കുന്നത്‌
കുടുംബങ്ങളിലെ സ്ത്രീകളും കുട്ടികളുമാണ്‌.അന്നന്നു പണിയെടുത്തു കിട്ടുന്ന
പണത്തിന്‌ കള്ളും കുടിച്ച്‌ സന്ധ്യാനേരത്ത്‌ വെറുംകൈയോടെ വീടുകളില്‍
വന്നു കയറുന്ന ഭര്‍ത്താക്കന്‍മാരെയും പിതാക്കന്‍മാരേയും നിലവിളക്ക്‌
കൊളുത്തി സ്വീകരിക്കേണ്ട്‌ അവസ്ഥയാണ്‌ വീട്ടിലിരിക്കുന്ന സ്ത്രീകള്‍ക്ക്‌.

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Who is a Brahmin?- T. Damu

2009-07-03T12:14:00.000-07:00

A true Brahmin is one, who has acquired brahminhood not by

birth but through his noble actions.

He who has gained Supreme Self-knowledge is a Brahmin.

Vedas and Epics proclaim that there is no caste differentiation in the Brahminic State.

Initially, people took up occupations in tune with their aptitudes and temperaments. People dedicated to such vocations were technically classified as Brahmanas, Kshatriyas, Vaisyas and Sudras, possessing equal status in the society.

Brahmins are those who have an inclination towards acquiring and disseminating sacred knowledge; Kshatriyas are those who have an in-built capacity to provide social security and peace; Vaisyas have a born tendency for trade and agriculture; and finally Sudras are persons willing to render services as in carpentry, blacksmithy, moulding, goldsmithy, ploughing and the like requiring manual labour. These were merely trade-based nomenclatures.

In the beginnning, men were either Brahmins or Sudras, according to Brihadaranyakopanishad. In Apasthampa Sutras all are Sudras by birth. Manusmrithi declares: “Knowldege uplifts a man to brahminhood; skill in arms makes a Kshatriya; enhancement of wealth moulds a Vaisya, whereas Sudra’s qualities are congenital traits. From this it is clear that the first three states of the caste system are developed after birth as a Sudra.

READ MORE IN ezhuth online july 2009 issue

2009-06-25T05:21:00.000-07:00

'KAMALA'

ബാലചന്ദ്രന്‍ ചുള്ളിക്കാടിന്‍റെ കവിത എഴുത്ത്‌ ഓണ്‍ലൈനില്‍

read here

ആഴിയുടെ അഗാധതയില്‍-മാത്യു നെല്ലിക്കുന്ന്

2009-06-24T10:33:00.000-07:00

മനുഷ്യന്‍ ചീത്ത മൃഗമാണ്-സുകുമാര്‍ അഴീക്കോട്‌

2009-06-05T08:17:00.000-07:00

മനുഷ്യന്‍ ചീത്ത മൃഗമാണ്-സുകുമാര്‍ അഴീക്കോട്‌

കിഴക്കും പടിഞ്ഞാറും ഉള്ള ചിന്തകന്‍മാര്‍ ഒരാശയത്തില്‍ തീര്‍ത്തും യോജിക്കുന്നുണ്ടെങ്കില്‍ അത്‌ മനുഷ്യന്‍ സൃഷ്ടിയുടെ മകുടമാണ്‌ എന്നതാണ്‌.കൃഷ്ണനും ക്രിസ്തുവും ഒക്കെ ഇക്കാര്യത്തില്‍ കൈകോര്‍ത്ത്‌ നില്‍ക്കുന്നു.മഹാ ബുദ്ധിശാലിയായ ശങ്കരന്‍പോലും ഈ വിചാരം ഉണ്ടെന്ന് കണ്ട്‌ ഞാന്‍ ആശ്ചര്യപ്പെട്ടുപോയി. മനുഷ്യന്‍ തന്നെപ്പറ്റി മിനഞ്ഞുണ്ടാക്കിയ ഒരു ആശയം മാത്രമാണിത്‌ .

മൃഗങ്ങള്‍ എല്ലാം നല്ല മൃഗങ്ങളാണ്‌. മനുഷ്യന്‍ ചീത്ത മൃഗമാണ്‌. എല്ലാ മൃഗങ്ങളും സ്വന്തം വംശത്തെ നശിപ്പിക്കില്ല . മനുഷ്യന്‍ ഉണ്ടായ കാലം തൊട്ട്‌ ഇന്നും നടത്തുന്ന ഏക വിനോദം സ്വന്തം സംഹാരമാണ്‌. അവന്‍റെ വളര്‍ച്ചയുടെ എല്ലാ നേട്ടങ്ങളും കേന്ദ്രങ്ങളും ഈ പ്രാകൃതമായ ക്രൂരതയെ തൃപ്തിപ്പെടുത്താന്‍ ഉപയോഗിക്കുകയാണ്‌. ശാസ്ത്രത്തിന്‍റെ എല്ലാ കണ്ടുപിടിത്തങ്ങളും ആത്യന്തികമായി അവന്‍ പ്രയോഗിക്കുന്നത്‌ മറ്റു മനുഷ്യരുടെ നേര്‍ക്കാണ്‌. തോക്കും അണുബോബും എല്ലാം ഈ കഥ പറഞ്ഞുകൊണ്ടേയിരിക്കുന്നു.

മൃഗങ്ങള്‍ , ഓരോ വംശത്തിലും , എത്ര സ്നേഹവാത്സല്യങ്ങളോടെയാണ്‌ കഴിഞ്ഞുകൂടുന്നത്‌!. നമ്മുടെ ക്രൂരത കൂടിയതുപോലെ അവയുടെ ദുഷ്ടവികാരങ്ങള്‍ വര്‍ദ്ധിച്ചിട്ടില്ല. മനുഷ്യന്‍റെ സവിശേഷത വിശേഷബുദ്ധിയാണെന്ന് പറയുന്നു . വിശേഷബുദ്ധിയുണ്ടായിട്ടും നന്‍മയും സ്നേഹവും ആണ്‌ ജീവിതം നിലനിര്‍ത്തുന്ന ശക്തികള്‍ എന്ന് മനുഷ്യന്‌ തിരിച്ചറിയാന്‍ സാധിച്ചില്ല.ബുദ്ധിയുണ്ട്‌, വിവേകമില്ല- ഈ അവസ്ഥ പോലെ വിനാശകരമായ ഒരു അവസ്ഥ ഊഹിക്കാനാവില്ല. മനുഷ്യന്‍ എല്ലാ മൃഗങ്ങളിലും വച്ച്‌ മോശപ്പെട്ട മൃഗമാണ്‌.

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One hundred Aphorisms of M K harikumar

2008-12-07T03:05:00.000-08:00

One hundred Aphorisms of M K harikumar -
selected and translated by k santhosh kumar

1. Nostalgia is either a personal hallucination or a savy.

2. One could write only what a society permits today.

3. The success of today's life is there only where a dulicate of the body's image and love remains.
4. Both the body and the mind are for others. Not for one's self. Mind is there to be thrown away like a cigarette packet.
5. One never remains married or otherwise just because he has read poetry. Sexual disappointment would change him in any case.
6. The total experience of today's writers are nothing but an explanation in book form.
7. Life is an argument.An argument between what is right and what is wrong.
8. Millions of insects remain bold even when they could not defend their life from situations that are beyond their control.
9. Art should not be artistic.It should invent itself in art.
10.Commercial banks are much better than lovers. They show enough magnanimity to send ten or more SMSes.
11.The symbol of male has become rotten everywhere.
12.Writing is an enterprise of the future.
13.Things that are deep still remain unexplored.
14.It is revolutionary to be a real woman.
15.One could remain unwomanish by hating men or refraining oneself from self-sex.
16.Truth can topple down like a tent in the wind anytime.
17.There is nothing called reality. We do create it and we do erase it as needed.
18.There are only temptations in TV, film and the media.
19.A writer has no role to play today. He remains in the boundary of his own passport-size photograph when he creates an award for himself.
20.The unpolitical viewpoints of the politicians are the stumbling blocks of the day.
21.There are different types of ambitions and additions in the air. But nothing is tangible.
22.All love will fall off like the scales of a fish.
23.Copulation is not an emotion. it is a drama.
24.A man is supposed to accept many worlds that are a lot bigger and heavier than the world in which he lives.
25.We may see our long-cherished wonders lying around like wet carbon pieces.
26.Love gets a bigger image than those involved in love in the love scenes of a movie where a love song is depicted.
27.Today poetry has deteriorated into a public opinion and as a conventional public notion.
28. Poetry is a mere repetition. It is a ritual art.
29.Rain is painful like a wail of the thoughts that became indebted and hapless as they fall down from the realms of conscious and unconscious.
30.Flower: A symbol of beauty that had to commit suicide by taking the shape of a plastic flower in interior decorations, from its duty of shouldering the weight of poetry.
31.Meditation is a necessarry characteristic for the praying process that beseech the well being of all the life on earth.
32.A woman who thinks that the advantage of love and sex is for the man, cannot enjoy her own sexual emotions.
33. Butterfly: An insect experimenting how to fly free from the thoughts that bind itself with any after-the-life relationships.
34. Reality: It is another planet within the planet called earth.
35.Tortoise: A humble irresponsible being that does not possess any drive or have any challenge as to walkdown a certain distance in a day, a month or even an year.
36.The world today is not with love. Neither love is with the boy who loves someone.
37.Even Poets do not need poetry. They only need prose.
38.The holistic values of the emtional life of men today is lost for ever.
39.There is no relation between religion and religiousness.
40. Each idea is destined to be holistic.
41.There is only body-relationship among men today. Their inner world has been lost somewhere.
42. In this new age, there is no centre called poet. There is only one who uses words!
43. Human identity is lost!
44.The equality of experiences is what becomes special in today's world. It has made literature unliterature. These days when everything is dying the only escape is to laugh at one's self to apply break to the continuity of events.
45.Sky is not just a thought. One can be there in different planes. It is an excellent symbol of friendship.
46.The wind brings in wisdom.
47.A writer's challenge is to live inside each cell of the experience after scrutinizing them.
48. Our logic, emotion and precious knowledge are all end-results of one or more jouenys.such a journey fails even the galaxy.
49.The meaning of all the words is just the same.
50.Love has become not a commodity to be handled carefully.
51.Life is a loss of memory on another memory.
52.Love is an interaction like the deadly sting of a scorpion.
53.The real poetry is beyond the words in that poetry.
54.A flower falling down is history.
55.Man's life is neither a story or a book.
56.All stories of writers have turned unbelievable today.
57.The reality of literature has becomevery feebleseveral times than it was what before.
58.The real silence is the dissatisfaction arising out of cumulative thinking.
59.Real writing takes place when blind-beliefs of the past are broken.
60.A writer has to turn himself into a media.
61. Religion is both a temple and the idol.
62.We have no surplus value , when vices engulf us as a fire on dry leaves.
63.Our barren earth begins with us. it grows beyond our body outwards, slowley.
64.Trees create a new language for oneness.
65.Tree is a spirituality to all animals.
66.Night: it is an aesthetic ambience of an unworldly solitude, apprehension , temptation and dread.
67.Literature is the economics of the energy of the relativeness of life that seprates the world from the unknown.
68. Art is the condition of an energy that experiments with the equivalency of images larger than life , generated by dissolving one's own life in contemplation .
69.There are short cuts in quizz for everything.Life itslef is a big quiz.
70.Being a male means to keep guard on an energy that is being developed more than what is needed.
71. There are no stories in Malayalam. Only film scripts are there.
72. The otherday I watched the speech of Sukumar Azhikode in TV, who is a greatest speaker in Malayalam. That speech was not a speach. It was his many speeches.
73.It needs water to remind us that there is nothing left to remember when it is flowing.
74.The unconditional flow of water is what is called life.
75.Water is a suicide squad .
76.The solitude of the words is the biggest puzzle of today.
77. the existance of man is the silliest in the world. If a wind blows, it falls down.
78.There is no Life anywhere.
79.It is fun to search for stars in a sky which is not existing there.
80.Beauty is not religious today.It is a festival for others.
81. Life is ,at the same time , old and new.
82.It is a good subject to be discussed proudly by everyone when they realize that they have their own deaths.
83. Plant is not earthly.
84.The very look at each object makes a writer lost in words.
85.Unless carefully observed one's mind, it is lost for ever.
86.Knowledge is like the moult of the reptiles. They are to be used and then to be thrown away.
87.Many knowledge leads one to be aloof.
88.If there is no speed there is no journey.
89.The journey in a man's mind do travel many times faster than the light.
90.The path is the journey.
91. The journey is the path.
92.Our journeys are not towards one particular destination; they are toward many destinations.
93. Our journeys defeat the Time. In this journey we are only temporary camps.
94.All roads will end at last. The real journey also ends.
95.We carry in our mind more than what our bodies could carry.
96. our paths are getting erased as soon as they are created. That is how the butterfly-journey begins.
97. Those who become victims of their own decisions do feel more boredom.
98.In the new market system, a woman has more market share than a man. Their pictures, sound, the very presence- everything do boost the market.
99. The hands remain worried not knowing what to do when we stand in que or watch a film or even talk with another one.
100.For writers, youth is there to accept disgrace.

aluva river photos

2008-11-19T04:23:00.000-08:00

See the Aluva River Photos

http://slent5valley.blogspot.com/

Patterings: Doubt Not ~it's Fiction Friday!

2008-10-26T02:01:00.000-07:00

Patterings: Doubt Not ~it's Fiction Friday!
literary critic, poet

Away, you have never been

2008-10-21T01:10:00.000-07:00

I saw my premises;
in greens and blues,
in whites and indigos
blend, as I buried my eyes
deep in my sleeping pillow.
Closer bloods and distant bonds
then said, 'we are nearly away'.
In that sinless promenades
were my lonely likes
and those little killing duties.
And they were going places
in search of me.
Walking past that timeless recess,
I met a few of my playful days.
They said, in that passing glee,
'Away! you have never been'.
Wet and stuttered, I walked.
Not too far, still beyond,
like severed loves with eyes
merged in each other's,
A season was there
in her last legs.
Shedding flowers all over
and shooting even twigs
with late buds,
she was hopping dales,
wishing away her floral fantasy.
Her way wound. Her robe,
dew-frilled, evenly washed
bowers and groves, sun-studded.
Nowhere I have found
their resemblance all these ways.
Awoke, now, with all my likes,
I shuttle my senses to places
to feel such a passing glee;
'Away, you have never been'.

poem by Jayaprakash A Panicker -links here

ഉദ്യോഗപര്‍വ്വം

2008-09-22T02:02:00.000-07:00

വിലാപങ്ങള്‍ വിഴുങ്ങാന്‍ കാത്തുനിന്നു.
ചെമ്പിച്ചതലമുടിയില്‍ വിദേശസുഗന്ധത്തിന്റെയും
മദ്യത്തിന്റെയും മടുപ്പിക്കുന്ന മണം.
മുറിയുടെ മൂലയില്‍ കാല്‍മുട്ടില്‍തലചായ്ച്ച്
പേടിയോടെ അടുത്ത ആക്രമണത്തിനു കാതോര്‍ത്തിരിക്കുന്ന
പെണ്‍കുട്ടി.!
വരുന്നത് ആരായിരിക്കാം?
യജമാനനോ?അയാളുടെ പുത്രനോ,പൌത്രനോ?
ആരുമാവാം.
അകമ്പടി സേവിക്കുന്നത്?
യജമാനപത്നിയോ?മകളോ?ചെറുമകളോ?
മനസ്സു മരവിച്ച ശരീരത്തില്‍
ഒട്ടകത്തിന്റെ കുളമ്പ്‌ വീണ്‌
ഞെരിഞ്ഞമരുന്ന വേദന.

കവിത :ശ്രീദേവിനായര്‍.

ജീവന്റെ വില- ശ്രീദേവി നായരുടെ കവിത

2008-09-21T05:06:00.000-07:00

രാവിലെ സ്കൂളിലേയ്ക്ക് വരുന്ന വഴി നീളെ ചുമപ്പുനിറം.
രക്തത്തിന്റെചുമപ്പ്.
നഷ്ടപ്പെട്ട പെന്‍സിലിന്റെ നിറം ചുമപ്പ്.
മെടഞ്ഞിട്ട മുടിയിലെ റിബ്ബണും ചുമപ്പ്.
ഇന്നലെ അച്ചന്റെ കൈപ്പാടു പതിഞ്ഞ
അടിയുടെ പാടും ചുമപ്പ്.
വഴിയോരത്തു കണ്ട ഇറച്ചിക്കടയിലെ
പിടഞ്ഞുമരിക്കുന്ന വെള്ളക്കോഴിയുടെ
പുറം മറയ്ക്കുന്ന ചോരയുടെ നിറവും
ചുമപ്പ്.
വേദനിയ്ക്കുന്ന മനസ്സിനെ ചുമന്ന തൂവാലയില്‍
പൊതിഞ്ഞ് പെണ്‍കുട്ടി
ക്ലാസ്സില്‍ ശ്രദ്ധിക്കാതിരുന്നു.
വെള്ള യൂണിഫോമില്‍ പൊതിഞ്ഞ അവള്‍,
തളര്‍ന്ന് തിരിച്ചെത്തിയപ്പോള്‍
അവളറിയാതെ കോഴിയുടെ
ചോര യൂണിഫോമിനെ ചുമന്ന
നിറമാക്കിയിരുന്നു.
പിടയ്ക്കുന്ന കോഴി അവളുടെ
ഉള്ളില്‍ കേഴുകയായിരുന്നു.

പുസ്തക റിവ്യൂ.

2008-09-14T03:22:00.000-07:00

ബ്ളൂ മാംഗോ ബുക്സ്‌ പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിച്ച ചില പുസ്തകങ്ങളുടെ

റിവ്യൂ' സാഫല്യം' മാസികയില്‍[ആഗസ്റ്റ്‌ ലക്കം ]

ശ്രീ സുധാകരന്‍ രാമന്തളിയുമായി നടത്തിയ അഭിമുഖം

2008-09-13T00:18:00.000-07:00

പ്രശസ്ത നോവലിസ്റ്റ്‌ :ശ്രീ സുധാകരന്‍ രാമന്തളിയുമായി നടത്തിയ അഭിമുഖം[ സാഫല്യം മാസിക,കൊച്ചി,ജൂലായ്‌ ലക്കം ]

സുകുമാര്‍ അഴീക്കോട്

2008-09-01T06:42:00.000-07:00

NEW BOOK FROM BLUEMANGO BOOKS

ശ്രീ കെ. രാജേന്ദ്രന്റെ 'പറച്ചിയില്‍ നിന്ന് പരാശരമുനി' എന്ന് കൃതിക്ക് സുകുമാര്‍ അഴീക്കോട് എഴുതിയ അവതാരികയില്‍നിന്ന്:

വര്‍ത്തമാന പ്രസക്തിയേറിയ കുറെ പ്രബന്ധങ്ങള്‍ സമാഹരിച്ചതാണ്‌ ശ്രീ രാജേന്ദ്രന്റെ ഈ പുസ്തകം.

മിക്ക പ്രബന്ധങ്ങളും , നാരായണഗുരുവിന്റെ ചിന്തകളും ആദര്‍ശങ്ങളും കേന്ദ്രമാക്കികൊണ്ട് ഗ്രന്ധകാരന്‍ നടത്തുന്ന ആശയപരീക്ഷണങ്ങളാണ്‌.ആധുനിക കാലത്ത് ഇന്ത്യയില്‍നടന്ന വമ്പിച്ച പരിവര്‍ത്തനത്തിന്റെ അടിയില്‍ ആദര്‍ശപരമായ ഒരു അടിസ്ഥാനമുണ്ടെന്നും അതിന്‌ ഉറപ്പ് നല്‍കുന്ന സിമിന്റായി വര്‍ത്തിക്കുന്ന ഒരു സുപ്രധാന ഘടകമാണ്‌ ശ്രീനാരായണ തത്വങ്ങളെന്നും സമര്‍ത്ഥിക്കുന്ന ചിന്താപ്രചോദകം ആയ കൃതിയാണ്‌ 'പറച്ചിയില്‍നിന്ന്‌ പരാശരമുനി'.

നമ്മുടെ സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യ സമരം ,മതേതരത്വം,ദേശീയോദ്ഗ്രഥനം എന്നിവയെപ്പറ്റിയുള്ള പ്രബന്ധങ്ങള്‍ ശ്രദ്ധേയങ്ങളായ പല അഭിപ്രായങ്ങള്‍കൊണ്ടും വേര്‍തിരിഞ്ഞ് നില്‍ക്കുന്നു.

novel എഴുത്ത്

2008-09-01T03:06:00.000-07:00

First chapter from Crusading In The Age of Amnesia by Sudhakaran Ramanthali

Watching the raging rain, Achyuthan sat in the sit out. The strings of rain were revealed through the lights of occasionally passing vehicles along the road in front. It is the first shower of relief that fell over the sun-baked city.

The plants in the small garden, carefully nurtured by Sunil, began to tremble in the rain after the initial, natural happiness.

There was a blinding lightning. Followed it by a deafening thunder.
Sita asked him with a tone of fear:
“How long you have been sitting like this? I feel nervous hearing this thunder. Please come inside.”

He, in fact, was not hearing anything. Never had he known that the wind-lashed raindrops were trespassing into the sit out. He is like that when he is under some mental agony. He gets himself drowned in the quagmire of mental anguish. Even Sita could not save him from it.

As usual in times like this, Sunil appeared in the doorway:
“Dad, what is biting you?”
Son authoritatively made him stand holding his hands. As they entered the room Sita closed the door.
“What is the problem today?” Son again asked.

In the TV, colorful advertisements appeared. Advertisement breaks in between the serials are the times for Sunil to think about other things in real life.
Achyuthan entered the bedroom.
“What is there to think on and on like this, Dad?” Sunil asked him in a tone of both love and concern. Achyuthan remained silent. Even if he answered, they won’t understand it.

Sunil went back to the TV. He seldom listens to anything however serious they are when the serials are back on the TV screen. He says daddy is wasting his time thinking always about things that won’t work or never happens.
“Mummy told me that you seemed so tensed as you came from the factory. Why don’t you talk, Dad?”
“uh”
“Have you met the MD recently?”
“No”
“Please meet him for my sake. You do many things for the sake of others. But when it comes to your own son’s sake…”
“What do you want?”
“Some vacancies are coming up in our department next month. Dad, if you just say a word to him…”
As the music marking the end of the ad-break was heard, he went back to the TV. The serial continued.

Achyuthan came unusually early home that day. Usually he spends some time in the Trade Union Office after the work before proceeding to home. There would be some kind of engagements for him every day; either a meeting of the Union or of the Art Forum. But today he had no interest to go anywhere.

2
Sita sat closer to him on the bed and asked:
“Why don’t you tell me once? What is it worrying you; I have been asking this since you came.”
“Nothing “
“I know something is bothering you. I am sure about it since I know you well. Have I not been living with you since the last twenty-five years?”
“Oh”
“Tell me open. You will feel a lot better if you talk to me open now. Won’t you tell me?”
“You do not understand all these.”
“Achu Etta, I can understand everything that concerns you. Was there any problems with your old comrades?”

He raised his head and looked at her eyes. As years went by she tried to adjust herself with my own ways. There were likes and dislikes during the initial days. My ideologies have never caught her attention, he thought.

She might have cursed her own fate for being with me, whenever she saw other husbands of the neighboring families took care in household affairs or when they took their families for an outing or picnic. Here, she does everything. When salary is received, he hands her a sum to manage the house. From that moment onwards her responsibilities start multiplying.
“Why don’t you take more interest in our family matters? You have been living for others, all these years. What did you gain from this? It is okay if you do not gain anything. I only wish your name remain untarnished.”

Sita thought of her father. Once her father was the most respected leader of the whole village where she grew up. When many of his disciples led a luxurious life and made lots of money through power, he retired to the darkness of “Kottilakam”. That is her father; Kunhikannan Master. He has been bed-ridden for months, unable to move his limbs, and partially blind, now. He lay there as a victim of brutalities he suffered for the sake of others…

“Sita.” He called her as if he just surfaced from the depths of reminiscences.
“I also want to talk everything open. I must talk to someone; else I may loose all my controls over me. If that happens, either one may loose sanity or he may turn himself a murderer.”

He said so coldly. When Sita heard those words, her heart skipped a beat.
“Why are you so over-serious, Achu Etta?” Sita asked. “Can’t you look at life more plainly? No one can make the world upright.”
“You talk philosophy now, I know. But my sickness is not medically curable. Come on, let us talk something else.”
“Achu Etta, what is making you so depressed?”

Achyuthan gazed at the closed windows. How would Sita react if she knows what exactly is nagging me, he thought.
“Although you are a big, respectable leader, you still do not understand others, Achu Etta. We should in no way expect others to behave, as we wish. That is the main problem with you…”
She has repeated the same words over and over before also. Is she right? Why should I expect others behave as I wish? If I can avoid this wishing, I can keep my mind under control, he thought.
At times, Achyuthan earnestly wished to stand before Sita like a small kid, and keep his mind like a clean slate and absorb carefully whatever she writes on it. If it were possible, frustrations like this would not have occurred. In reality, you cannot do it. It is the truth.

-3-
He said: “Let us go on a tour somewhere? Let us get out of here for a few days.”
Sita could not believe her ears. Almost gaping, she looked at him. He never goes even to a small picnic with his family. When all families went on a tour to Mysore, he avoided that opportunity. Sita went just because of the insistence of her son.
“What happened?” He just placed his palm over her shoulders and smiled.
“Oh god!” Sita exclaimed, the moment she realized it was not a dream. “ I just can’t believe it.”
“You can. Isn’t it me who say this?”
True. In their married life that was full of stresses and strains, there was not even a moment that made her mistrust him. Whatever that made her cry or laugh, were just the words he uttered pregnant with truth; and the deeds he done charged with unending energy.

Suddenly, Sita felt a surge of love towards him. Yes. He had had made everything very clear to her well before their marriage.
“I cannot give you a married life the kind of girls like you dream of. There is a definite purpose for my life. I am moving through a path ridden with hurdles…” He explained everything to her.
…Trade Union activities; political activities; may reach home very late; Often he could reach home very late in the night…

Sita never thought that there was anything that can be disagreed upon, then, in what he said.
She laughed: “Am I the daughter of Kunhikannan Master?”
“Still, I have to tell you everything open. Are you willing to live with me? You need not listen to what others say.”
That scene is still green in her memory.
There was a youngster before her running his fingers through the thick growth of his beard… his eyes gleaming behind the spectacles… his voice was manly… he uttered only respectable words… and above all, a penetrating stare…!
There was nothing more to think about him. A naughty smile lit her face.
“Hey, you still laugh? This is not a joke. This is a matter of life. Sita, you still did not say whether you liked me.”
“I like you… but…”
“But?”
“I have a small request. Can you kindly consider it?”
“Tell me”
“Just shave the beard off and get a hair cut…”
He conceded like a winner: “Give me your request in writing. Let me see…”
Those were the moments that made one realize how exciting the life can be…
Anyhow, those exciting moments could not be sustained in later life.

Soon Sita returned from her memories.
“Why do you think of going on a tour now?”
“Don’t ask for details. Have you asked me several times to take you on a tour? You decide where to go now.”
She closed her eyes for a moment and thanked God.
“Let us go anywhere. I need you free from these tensions, Achu Etta.”
“So, shall we have supper now?”
“Supper is ready.”
As they entered the drawing room, a Sardarji was singing a folk song in the TV. Sunil was mimicking his song aloud. When he saw dad, he stopped his singing.
“Carry on… It has been very long hearing you sing.”

-4-
He switched the channel to another one as he stopped the song. A hunting dog was chasing some rabbits in a bush near a green valley. Suddenly the dog caught one of them. The sharp nails on its paw dug deep into the eyes of the young rabbit as the dog growled. The rabbit trembled under its paw, when the dog quickly bit at its neck.
There was a parting flutter and groan of the dying animal. Warm blood was oozing out of the dying animals body. When Achyuthan saw the blood, he felt like retching and vomiting.
“No son, stop this. That song is enough. It was good.”
Any bad music is better than this sight, he thought.
“That was not a good song… Look at this… It really happens.” Sunil said with a seemingly innocent smile. He carefully watched for the emotion reflected in the eyes. Was it cruel?
He was not clear.
He felt the blood that gushed out from the torn body of the rabbit filling the screen first and then flowing out into the room. His mind whispered:
“They love blood more than songs.’
“What is this son? Seeing all this cruelty your mind will change.” Sita scolded him.
“Mom and dad do not like these. Your standard is different. You cannot adjust with this. Then why do you make others adjust with you? Leave me alone.”

He switched off the TV with rising anger.
“What did you say? Can’t you obey father and mother? You think we do not have the status that is equal to yours? Right?” Sita angrily said.

“Are you serving supper? Why go for a debate with him?” Achyuthan pacified her.
“See how proud he is.”
“He is only a kid. Leave it.”
“You don’t know Achu Etta, we should not pamper him too much being our only child. He has turned 21.”

As they walked towards the kitchen, Achyuthan thought:
“What have I done to mould or control his likes or dislikes? I never attempted even once to do so. That is a fact. I get only a couple of days to talk with him in person. I go to the factory before he wakes up. When I reach home late night, he might have already slept…”

He was growing as he is. His friends and the TV might have influenced him. He can’t even understand me today. Or he is not trying to. But, could he conveniently forget Sita?
I work for the future of all children in the country. Not just to make my son’s future alone better. Still I feel…isn’t it good to begin every work from own home? It is already too late. I should try to take care of son’s affairs hereafter.

Food reached the dining table.
“Son, come here…” Achyuthan’s voice reflected love. Reluctantly Sunil sat near his dad.
“Are you angry with me? Mom was joking”
“Not at all. I really mean it.” Sita said.

There was a new light in his eyes. They resembled like a baby’s though he was 21.
“Pamper him as much as you like. His arrogance will increase even more now.” Sita murmured.
He laughed aloud. Son also joined him.

Rain was still raging outside. There was occasional lightning and thunder. The sound of the eerie wind leaked through some holes into the room, though the windows were shut.

-5-
In the light of a zero watt bulb the room looked like a painting done in pale colors.
An old steel cupboard stood in a corner. A lot of clothes hung from a clothesline tied to a corner. A discolored blue curtain hid the old, rusted window. Idols of gods sat on a stand near the wardrobe. Those sights made him feel dizzy.

Face of Sita now lying closer to him in deep sleep resembled likes an old picture he has seen somewhere. In a way the very life itself is a faded picture. Those things that seemed bright and colorful are in fact, pale and shapeless.
He wanted to sleep peacefully.
What Sita said was true. I must talk everything open to somebody. But I can’t do it at any cost.
He hugged Sita closer to him. Kissed softly on her cheeks. She embraced him in her sleep tightly and mumbled something. Then slowly she opened her eyes.
‘Not slept yet?”
“Can’t sleep”
He decided to break the cursed silence by talking to her.
“Try to live for our family. No one can make the world upright overnight. You don’t get mental peace.”
“Sita, I thought at least you would understand me…”
“That is why I say this. Let us think only about good things. Do you hear what I say, Achu Etta?”
Sita is now fully awake.
“I fell asleep suddenly because I was tired of doing the daily chores. I want to tell you an important thing…”
Even though he was not interested, he listened.
“You know a chance is there for our son to get a job. If you make up your mind, it will work. They say there is no scope for a job without any recommendation. If not, we have to pay Rs 50000/- as bribe.”
“Who said all these?”
“Achu Etta, you are the vice president of the Union. The say the president and the secretary do extort money. A share of it goes to the management and Union.”
“No. It is all hearsay.”
“Not just hearsay. Nalini’s nephew Balakrishnan got a job last month, because they paid a lakh of rupees. Nalini herself told me this…”
He remained silent.
It is a fact that there are allegations about the Union leadership among the laborers. Some even hinted about it directly to him. But…
“So, Achu Etta, do one thing. You need not extort bribe like others. I know you can’t. You can very well arrange a way to earn an income for our son too. You are very close to your MD”
“Close? How come?”
“He said he has not seen a selfless leader like you, when he came for the meeting of Art Forum.”
“Just because of that alone, I cannot recommend my son’s case to him. You need not explain unnecessary things to Sunil.”
“He knows everything. Even otherwise, why should hide the plain truth? You can approach anyone with recommendations for others. You are not asking for an illegal favor for your own son’s sake. He has been working on contract for the last couple of years. He has the necessary qualification to get his job made permanent.”
“We will do something about it. Please do not talk things like this to make me sleepless. I am already sleepless.”
“Okay I leave everything to you, Achu Etta.”
Sita’s words ended in a sigh. He switched off the zero watts light.
Wind and rain raced outside. Darkness inundated the room…
He lay there in the darkness like driftwood

Translated by k santhoshkumar , Remya,kochi

അഭിമുഖം

2008-08-28T01:05:00.000-07:00

പ്രശസ്ത കവി ശ്രീ ശ്രീദേവിനായരുമായി നടത്തിയ അഭിമുഖം. ശ്രീ ദേവിനായരുടെ രണ്ട് പുസ്തകങ്ങള്‍
ബ്ലൂമാംഗോ ബുക്സ്‌ പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്.ദ് പെയിന്റഡ് ഫോംസും[The painted forms] ലൗ ഗേവ് ഹെര്‍ ഒണ്‍ലി ഫിയറും[Love geve her only fear].സാഹിത്യത്തില്‍ അത്രയൊന്നും പ്രശസ്തി ആഗ്രഹിക്കാത്തവരെയും കിട്ടാത്തവരെയുമാണ്‌ ഞങ്ങള്‍ കൂടുതലും ശ്രദ്ധിക്കുന്നത്.ശ്രീദേവി നായരുടെ ഈ അഭിമുഖം ഒരു കവിയെന്ന നിലയിലുള്ള അവരുടെ മനോഭാവം വ്യക്തമാക്കുന്നതാണ്‌ .

1)എന്തിനാണ് കവിത എഴുതുന്നത്?

കവിത എനിക്കൊരു സ്വപ്നം പോലെ,എന്നിലേയ്ക്ക് ഒരു ആവാഹനമായ് കടന്നുവരുന്നു.

എന്നെ ഒരുപാടു സ്നേഹിച്ചു, നോവിച്ചു കടന്നുപോകുന്നു. ചിലപ്പോള്‍ രാത്രിയും,പകലും

എന്നില്‍ ലയിച്ചു ഞാനായി ത്തീരുകയും ചെയ്യുന്നു.
2)കവിത ഒരു യാഥാര്‍ത്ഥ്യമാണോ?
പലപ്പോഴും എന്റെ കവിതകള്‍ എന്റെ മനസ്സിന്റെ അടിത്തട്ടില്‍ നിന്നും ഞാനറിയാതെ
പുറത്തുവരുന്നവയാണ്.അവ എന്റെ സങ്കല്‍പ്പങ്ങളെ യാഥാര്‍ത്ഥ്യത്തിലേയ്ക്കാനയിക്കുന്നു.
3)കവിത എപ്പോഴാണ് എഴുതുന്നത്?
അതിനു പ്രത്യേകസമയം ഞാന്‍ കണ്ടെത്താറില്ല.എന്നെ ഞാന്‍ അറിയാന്‍ ശ്രമിക്കുംപോള്‍
എന്നിലൊരു കവിത ജനിക്കുന്നു. പക്ഷേ? എന്നെപ്പോലെ മിക്കവയും പുറത്തിറങ്ങാതെ
സ്വയം ഒതുങ്ങിക്കൂടുന്നു..ഞാന്‍ എന്റെ ഉള്ളറകളില്‍ അവയെ ഭദ്രമായി സൂക്ഷിച്ചു വയ്ക്കുന്നൂ
വളരെ ശ്രദ്ധയോടെ,കരുതലോടെ,സ്നേഹത്തോടെ....എനിയ്ക്കുവേണ്ടിമാത്രം...
4)എഴുത്തുകൊണ്ട് എന്തെങ്കിലും പ്രയോജനമുണ്ടോ?
ജീവിതം കൊണ്ട് എന്തു പ്രയോജനം?
ആര്‍ക്കും വേണ്ടാത്ത ജീവികളായി മനുഷ്യര്‍ മാറുമ്പോള്‍,കവിതയില്‍ മാത്രമെന്തു പ്രയോജനം?
മനസ്സിലുള്ളത് പുസ്തകത്താളിലേയ്ക്ക് പകരുമ്പോല്‍ മനസ്സിന്റെ ഭാരം കുറയുന്നു.
അത്രമാത്രം.
5)മനുഷ്യന്റെ മനസ്സിനെ നന്നാക്കാന്‍ കവിതയ്ക്കു കഴിയുമോ?
കഴിയുമെന്ന് വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നു.ആഗ്രഹിക്കുന്നൂ..
സ്വയം നന്നാവാന്‍ കവിയ്ക്കെങ്കിലും കഴിയുമല്ലോ?
6)താങ്കള്‍ക്കെന്താണ്‌ കവിത?
എനിയ്ക്ക് എന്റെ പ്രാണവായുപോലെയാണ് കവിത...
ഉറ്റചങ്ങാതിയാണു കവിത...
എന്റെ പ്രണയവും.സ്നേഹവുമാണു കവിത..
എന്റെകാമുകനാണുകവിത,
ചിലപ്പോള്‍ പിണങ്ങും,കയര്‍ക്കും.മിണ്ടാതിരി ക്കും.ചിലപ്പോള്‍
ഓടിവന്നെന്നെ കെട്ടിപ്പുണരും..
ഞാന്‍ കാത്തിരിക്കുന്നതും അവനുവേണ്ടി മാത്രമാണുതാനും..
7)ഇഷ്ടപ്പെട്ടകവി?
കുമാരനാശാനും ചങ്ങമ്പുഴയുമാണ്‌ പ്രിയ കവികള്‍.
8)ഇഷ്ടപ്പെട്ടവരികള്‍?
ആശാന്റെ 'മണ്ണാകുമീ മലര് വിസ്മൃതമാകുമിപ്പോള്‍ 'എന്ന വരെ വളരെ സ്വാധീനിച്ചിട്ടുണ്ട്.അതുപോലെ ചങ്ങമ്പുഴയുടെ 'ആരുവാങ്ങുമിന്നാരുവാങ്ങുമിന്ന് ആരാമത്തിന്റെ രോമാഞ്ചം 'എന്ന് വരിയും വളരെ ഇഷ്ടമാണ്
9)ഇഷ്ടപ്പെട്ട ഭാഷ?
എന്റെ മാതൃഭാഷതന്നെയാണെന്റെ ഇഷ്ടഭാഷ.

മറ്റു ഭാഷകളെ ഞാന്‍ സ്നേഹിക്കുന്നു.
അവരെ മനസ്സിലാക്കിത്തുടങ്ങി വരുന്നൂ...
10)ഒരു കവിയുടെ ജാതി?
ജാതിയെപ്പറ്റി ചിന്തിക്കാന്‍ ഞാന്‍ ഒരിക്കലും ശ്രമിച്ചിട്ടില്ല,

കവികളെല്ലാം ഒരേജാതിയാണന്നാണന്റെ വിശ്വാസം..
അവര്‍ മനസ്സു മാത്രമേ കാണാന്‍ ശ്രമിക്കാറുള്ളൂ...
11) വാക്കുകളില്‍ ഒതുങ്ങാത്ത കവിതകളുണ്ടോ?
തീര്‍ച്ചയായും .ഒതുക്കിവയ്ക്കുവാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചു പരാജയപ്പെടുന്നു മിക്കപ്പോഴും. വാക്കുകള്‍ക്കതീതമായ,വാക്കുകളാല്‍ മൂടിവയ്ക്കാന്‍ കഴിയാത്ത,
അളക്കാന്‍ കഴിയാത്ത,ഭാവം കവിതയില്‍ ഞാനെന്നും കാണുന്നു.
പലപ്പോഴും മൂടുപടമിട്ട അവള്‍പുറത്തിറങ്ങാന്‍ മടിക്കുന്നൂ...
12)ഒരു കവിത എഴുതിക്കഴിഞ്ഞാല്‍ എത്രദിവസം മനസ്സില്‍ തങ്ങി നില്‍ക്കും?
ചിലപ്പോള്‍ ഒരു നിമിഷം,ചിലപ്പോളൊരു ദിവസം,മറ്റുചിലത് ജീവിതകാലം വരെ..
മനസ്സില്‍ ആനന്ദമായ് ചിലത് ഓര്‍ക്കാന്‍ കഴിയുമെങ്കില്‍ ചിലത് നഷ്ടബോധം മാത്രം
നല്‍കുന്നൂ..
13)കവിതകൊണ്ട് എന്തെങ്കിലും മറക്കാന്‍ കഴിയുമോ?
ഇല്ല..മറവി കൊണ്ട് കവിതയില്‍ ഒന്നും ഉണ്ടാകുന്നില്ലയെന്ന് ഞാന്‍ വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നു.
എന്നാല്‍ ഓര്‍ക്കുവാന്‍ പലതും കാണും...
കവിത മറവിയുടെ പൊയ്മുഖം പലപ്പോഴും ...കാട്ടുന്നു.
കവിതയ്ക്ക് ഒരാളെ മറവിയിലേയ്ക്ക് വലിച്ചിഴയ്ക്കാന്‍ ശ്രമിക്കാം.പക്ഷേ?
നടക്കാത്ത സ്വപ്നം പോലെ അവന്‍മിഥ്യയെ കണ്ണടച്ചു ഇരുട്ടാക്കുന്നു.
കണ്ണുതുറക്കാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചു പരാജയപ്പെടുന്നൂ..മറവിയുടെ മായയില്‍ മനസ്സിനെ
മയക്കാമെന്നല്ലാതെ ,എനിക്കു ഉണര്‍ത്തു പാട്ടാണ് കവിത.ഭൂതകാലത്തിന്റെ
സുന്ദര നിമിഷങ്ങളോര്‍മ്മയില്‍ എത്തിക്കുന്ന സ്വപ്നമാണ്കവിത..
14)മറവിയാണോ കവിത?
അല്ല ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍ ആണെന്നെന്നും...
ഓര്‍മ്മപുതുക്കലാണ്...
15)കവിയും പ്രണയവും തമ്മില്‍?
പ്രണയം മനസ്സിലൊളിപ്പിക്കുന്ന ഒരുവളാണു ഞാന്‍.!
എന്റെ പ്രണയം എന്നും എന്റേതു മാത്രം.!
അവിടെ നോവുകളില്ല, അറിവുകള്‍മാത്രം..!
മനസ്സിന്റെ അടിത്തട്ടില്‍ കുറേ നല്ല ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍ മാത്രം...!
എന്റെ പ്രണയത്തെ ഞാന്‍ വിട്ടുകൊടുക്കാന്‍ തയ്യാറല്ല...!
പ്രണയം എന്നെയും..!
16)പ്രണയമില്ലാത്തവര്‍ക്ക് കവിതയുണ്ടോ?
കാണില്ലയെന്ന് ഞാന്‍ വിശ്വസിക്കുന്നു.പ്രണയം എന്തിനോടുമാവാം..
പ്രണയമില്ലാത്തമനസ്സില്‍ കവിത ജനിക്കുകയില്ല..
ചിലപ്രണയം ഒരായുസ്സു മുഴുവന്‍ തടവില്‍ കഴിയാന്‍ വിധിക്കപ്പെടുന്നു..
ചിലതു പുറത്തു വന്നു പൊട്ടിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു...
ചിലപ്രണയം മനസ്സില്‍ എന്നും ശ്രുതിമീട്ടുന്നു ,ആരു മറിയാതെ...
ബാല്യം കുട്ടിയുടുപ്പിട്ടു പാറിനടന്നപ്പോള്‍ ,കൌമാരം എന്നെയെന്നും കൊതിപ്പിച്ചു
നിരാശപ്പെടുത്തിക്കൊണ്ടിരുന്നൂ.എന്തിനും ഏതിനും പേടിസമ്മാനിച്ചു അവന്‍ എന്നെ
എന്നും കളിയാക്കി കൊണ്ടിരുന്നൂ...ഞാനറിയാതെ എന്റെ മനസ്സില്‍ കവിതകളായി കടന്നുവന്ന്
എന്നെ പ്രണയിക്കാന്‍ തുടങ്ങിയ അവനെ ഞാന്‍ ,മറ്റാരെക്കാളും സ്നേഹിച്ചു.
ഏകാന്തത ഇഷ്ടപ്പെടുന്ന ഞാന്‍ എന്നും കിനാവുകളില്‍ അവനെ എന്റെ പ്രിയതോഴനാക്കി.
ഒരു ദിവസം വിചാരിച്ചിരിക്കാതെ, മണവാട്ടിയാകേണ്ടിവന്ന എന്നെ,പ്രതീക്ഷകള്‍കൈവിട്ടു
പോകുന്നത്ഞാന്‍ കണ്ണീരോടെ സ്വപ്നം കണ്ടു.അകലെ അലതല്ലുന്ന അലയാഴിയും,കാര്‍മേഘം
നിറയുന്ന ആകാശവും മാ‍ത്രം ഞാന്‍ ദിവസവുംകിനാവുകളില്‍ കണ്ടു.
പരാതിപറയാന്‍ ആളില്ലാതെ നില്‍ക്കുന്ന അവസരങ്ങള്‍ എന്നില്‍ എന്റെ കൂട്ടുകാരായെത്തിയും
പ്രണയിക്കാന്‍ തോന്നുന്ന അവസരങ്ങളില്‍ കാമുകനായും, വന്നുഎന്നെത്തഴുകി എന്റെ കവിതകള്‍,
കൂട്ടുകാരുടെ ഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍ ഞാന്‍ മറക്കാതെ സൂക്ഷിക്കുംപോഴും,
അജ്ഞാത വാസത്തിലിരിക്കുന്ന രാജകുമാരിയെപ്പോലെ,ഞാന്‍ നിശബ്ദമായി തേങ്ങി.
പക്ഷേ? സ്നേഹിക്കാന്‍ മാത്രം അറിയുന്ന എന്റെ ഭര്‍ത്താവ്,എന്റെ എല്ലാ സംശയങ്ങളും
അല്പകാലം കൊണ്ടു തന്നെഎന്റെ തോന്നലുകളാണെന്നു തിരുത്തിയെടുത്തു.പ്രണയകാലം എന്റെ
മനസ്സില്‍ ഞാന്‍ സ്വപ്നങ്ങളായി കൊണ്ടു നടന്നു..എന്റെ കവിതകളില്‍ ക്കൂടി
നടക്കാത്തസ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍ഞാന്‍യഥാര്‍ത്ഥ്യമാക്കാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചൂ
( മരണം വന്നു വിളിച്ചാലുംഞാന്‍
മരണത്തെയും പ്രണയിച്ചിടും )
എന്നരീതിയില്‍ പ്രണയ കവിതകളില്‍ ഞാന്‍ എന്നെ കണ്ടു..
പ്രകൃതിയില്‍ നോക്കിയിരിക്കുംപ്പോഴൊക്കെ,അവന്‍എന്നോടു ഇങ്ങനെ പറഞ്ഞൂ;
" നിന്റെ കണ്ണുകളിലെ അഗാധതയില്‍ ഞാന്‍ കണ്ടത്,അലയാഴിയുടെനിഗൂഡരഹസ്യങ്ങളാണ്. അതിനുമപ്പുറംനിന്നില്‍ഒളിഞ്ഞിരിക്കുന്നസകല നിധി ശേഖരങ്ങളിലേയും അകം പൊരുളും
ഞാന്‍ കണ്ടു.നീ അലയാഴിതന്നെയാണോ?എന്നെ ഒത്തൊരുമിച്ച്ആവാഹിക്കുന്ന നിന്റെ കണ്ണുകള്‍
നോക്കിയിരിക്കാന്‍ ഞാന്‍ അശക്തനാണ്."
എന്നെപ്രണയിക്കുന്ന അവനെ ഞാന്‍ എന്നും ഏകാന്തതയില്‍ ഒളിഞ്ഞു നോക്കിയിരുന്നൂ.
അവന്‍ എനിയ്ക്കപ്രാപ്യനാണെന്നറിഞ്ഞു കൊണ്ടു തന്നെ ഞാന്‍ അവനെ മാത്രം
സ്നേഹിച്ചുകൊണ്ടേയിരുന്നൂ.
പ്രായത്തിന്റെ പക്വത എത്തും മുന്‍പുള്ള കുടുംബഭാരം എന്നെ ബുദ്ധിമുട്ടിച്ചില്ലെന്ന് പറയാനാവില്ല
എങ്കിലും ഒരു പെണ്‍കുട്ടിയുടെ സ്വാര്‍ത്ഥ താല്‍പ്പര്യംചിലപ്പോഴൊക്കെ എന്റെ മനസ്സമാധാനം കെടുത്തിയിട്ടു
മുണ്ട്.എന്നിരുന്നാലും മകള്‍പ്രായമേറിനില്‍ക്കുമ്പോഴത്തെ ഗതികേട് അറിയാന്‍ എന്റെ പിതാവു
ഇഷ്ടപ്പെടാതിരുന്നത് നല്ലതായിയെന്നു ഞാന്‍ വൈകിയെങ്കിലും മനസ്സിലാക്കി.
മക്കളുടെ ജനനം എന്നിലെ അമ്മയെ മറ്റൊരു ലോകത്തിലെത്തിച്ചു.
അവരെ ഇഷ്ടാനിഷ്ടങ്ങള്‍ നോക്കി വളര്‍ത്താനുള്ള ശ്രദ്ധയില്‍ ഞാനെന്നെ മറന്ന വര്‍ഷങ്ങളായിരുന്നു
പിന്നീടുള്ള കാലങ്ങള്‍.. ഇന്നു തിരിഞ്ഞുനോക്കുമ്പോള്‍ അഭിമാനിക്കാന്‍ തക്ക വണ്ണം നല്ല രീതിയില്‍
വളര്‍ത്തിയെടുക്കാന്‍ കഴിഞ്ഞതില്‍ ഈശ്വരനോടു നന്ദി.
ചിന്തിക്കാതിരിക്കാനും,ചിന്തിച്ചിരിക്കാനും നമുക്ക് ആരുടേയും അനുവാദം വേണ്ടാ.
നമുക്ക് തോന്നുന്ന വികാരങ്ങളുടെ ഏറ്റക്കുറച്ചിലിനനുസരിച്ച് അലാറം മുഴക്കുന്നൊരു ഘടികാരം
നമ്മുടെയുള്ളില്‍ ഒരിക്കലുമില്ല.എന്നാലുംചിന്തകള്‍ ചിലപ്പോള്‍പെട്ടെന്നു നിന്നുപോകുന്നത് നമ്മുടെ
നിയന്ത്രണത്തിലാവില്ലൊരിക്കലും.
തപസ്സിന്റെ മദ്ധ്യത്തില്‍ വച്ച് ഒരു പൂര്‍ണ്ണ വിശ്രമം അനുഭവിക്കുന്ന ഉദാത്തമായ കാഴ്ച്ചപ്പാടിനപ്പുറം
എന്തെങ്കിലും ഞാന്‍ കണ്ടു പോയിട്ടുണ്ടെങ്കില്‍ അതു എന്റെ മനസ്സിന്റെ സുന്ദരസ്മരണകളില്‍നിന്നും
ഉയര്‍ത്തെണീറ്റ ഏതെങ്കിലും ഓര്‍മ്മകളുടെ അവശിഷ്ടമായിരിക്കാം.
ഞാന്‍ ഇന്നലെകളുടെകേടുപാടുകളില്ലാത്ത അവശിഷ്ടങ്ങളെപൊടിതട്ടി ക്കുടഞ്ഞ് ഇന്നെത്തെ
ആവശ്യത്തിനു ഉപയോഗിക്കാന്‍ശ്രമിക്കാറുണ്ട്ചിലതു എനിയ്ക്ക്പൂര്‍ണ്ണ പിന്തുണനല്‍കി
ക്കൊണ്ട്പുഞ്ചിരിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ മറ്റുചിലത്എന്റെ കൈ തട്ടിമാറ്റിപുരികം ചുളിച്ച്പല്ലിറുമ്മിഎന്നോട് എതിര്‍ത്തും നിന്നിട്ടുണ്ട്.ഇതില്‍ രണ്ടു തരം കാഴ്ച്ച പ്പാടും എന്നെ സംബന്ധിച്ചിടത്തോളം
ഒരു പൊലെയാണ്കാരണംഞാന്‍ ഞാന്‍ മാത്രം ആയതുകൊണ്ടും!
ഒരായിരം കിനാവുകളില്‍ ഞാന്‍ കണ്ട ആയിരംസങ്കല്‍പ്പങ്ങളില്‍നിന്നും ആവാഹിച്ചെടുത്ത്

എന്നിലൂടെഉത്ഭവം നടത്തിയഗന്ധര്‍വ്വപുത്രിയായി ഞാന്‍ ഇന്നുംകവിതയെ സ്നേഹിക്കുന്നു.
അവള്‍ എന്നും എന്റെ സ്വന്തം. മാതാവും പിതാവും ആരെന്നറിയാതെ എന്റെ മുന്നില്‍
പകച്ചു നിക്കുന്നു. എന്റെ കവിതകള്‍ അതുകൊണ്ടു തന്നെ പൂര്‍ണ്ണത അറിയുന്നില്ലേ?
എന്നു ഞാന്‍ സംശയിക്കുന്നു.
വികാരങ്ങളെ താലോലിക്കാന്‍ കഴിയുന്നസമയങ്ങളില്‍ ഞാനെന്നും വിവേകത്തെക്കുറിച്ചു
ചിന്തിക്കുന്നു .ഏതു കാര്യവും അതിന്റെ ഉജ്ജ്വല സീമയില്‍ പ്രവേശിക്കുമ്പോള്‍ ഞാന്‍
അതിന്റെ ഉത്ഭവത്തെ ക്കുറിച്ചു ചിന്തിച്ചു എന്റെ മനസ്സ് അസ്വസ്ത മാക്കുന്നു.
ഞാന്‍ കാണുന്ന കാഴ്ച്ചയ്ക്കും അപ്പുറം എന്റെ കണ്ണില്‍മറ്റൊരു കാഴ്ച്ച ഒളിഞ്ഞിരുക്കുന്നു.
ആ കാഴ്ച്ചയില്‍ ഞാനൊരിക്കലും ഏകയല്ല എന്നുതോന്നുന്നത് എന്റെ ആത്മ മിത്രത്തിന്റെ
അടുക്കല്‍ നില്‍ക്കുമ്പോള്‍ മാത്രമാണ്.
ഇന്നല്ലെങ്കില്‍ നാളെ അവസാനിക്കുന്ന ഈലോകത്തിന്റെ മിഥ്യയില്‍ മനക്കണക്കുകള്‍ കൂട്ടി
വയ്ക്കാന്‍ തുനിയുന്ന മനസ്സിനെ ഞാനെന്നും പഴിക്കുന്നൂ.
മനസ്സില്ലാത്തവര്‍ക്കു എങ്ങനെ മനക്കണക്കുകള്‍?
ഒരിക്കലും ആവില്ല.മനസ്സാക്ഷിക്കും മനസ്സിനുമിടയ്ക്കുള്ള നൂല്‍പ്പാലം പൊട്ടിത്തകരുന്നത്
കേവലം യാദൃശ്ചികം.
നമ്മുടെ ഭാരം നമുക്കുതന്നെ താങ്ങാന്‍ വയ്യാതെ വരുമ്പോള്‍ നാം ഭാര രഹിതജീവിതത്തിന്
ആഗ്രഹിക്കുന്നു.
ഒരു അത്താണി,മനുഷ്യജീവിതത്തിനു അത്യാവശ്യമാണ്.
ആറിന്റെയും,നൂറിന്റെയും പ്രായം തമ്മിലുള്ള അന്തരം,അതിന്റെ വികാര വിചാരങ്ങളുടെ
വ്യത്യാസം,ആണ്‍പെണ്‍ വ്യത്യാസം ഇതൊന്നും ഒരുജീവിത ഭാരത്തിന്റെയും
വ്യഥ മാറ്റുന്നില്ല.
കുഞ്ഞിന്റെ ദുഃഖം അമ്മയ്ക്കു താങ്ങാം, അമ്മയുടെ ദുഃഖം ആരാണ് താങ്ങുക?
മനസ്സിന്റെ കാന്തിക ശക്തിയില്‍ മനുഷ്യര്‍ മനുഷ്യരെ അറിയുന്ന,സ്നേഹിക്കുന്ന
ഒരു കാലത്തില്‍ ഞാന്‍ എന്റെ സ്നേഹം പുറം കാഴ്ച്ച യായി വയ്ക്കും.!
അന്നും എന്നെ ത്തള്ളിപ്പറയുവാന്‍ ,കഴിയാത്തമനസ്സുകളിലെന്നെക്കുറിച്ചുള്ള നല്ലഓര്‍മ്മകള്‍
പൊട്ടിമുളച്ച്,വളര്‍ന്നു വന്‍ വൃക്ഷമായി തണലേകി നില്‍ക്കും.
എന്റെ കവിതകളില്‍ തിരിച്ചറിയപ്പെടാത്ത സ്നേഹം ഇങ്ങനെ,
" മനസ്സാക്ഷിമരിക്കാത്ത മധുരമാം സ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍
മനതാരിലായിരം കൊഴിഞ്ഞുവീണു.
മനമില്ലാമനസ്സുമായ് മിഴിനീരണിഞ്ഞുഞാന്‍
മനമുരുകിപ്പിന്നെയും കാത്തുനിന്നു'.
നഷ്ടസ്വപ്നങ്ങളേ,
നിങ്ങളെക്കാത്തു ഞാന്‍,
ഈവിജന വീഥികളില്‍ നോക്കിനിന്നു.
പൂക്കാത്തപൂമരക്കൊമ്പിലിന്നാദ്യമായ്,
പൂക്കാത്തപ്പൂവുകള്‍ പുഞ്ചിരിച്ചു
തേനൂറും കായ്കളും നന്നായിചിരിച്ചു
കായ്ക്കാത്ത ശാഖകളിലെന്നുമെന്നും.

തിരിച്ചറിയപ്പെടാത്ത സ്നേഹം ദുഃഖമാണ്.

വ്യക്തിജീവിതത്തില്‍ കവിതയുടെ വഴി എങ്ങനെ രൂപംകൊണ്ടു?
അച്ഛന്റെ ശ്രീക്കുട്ടി, അമ്മയുടെദേവി, ചേട്ടന്റെ അനിയത്തി, ഇളയവരുടെ ദേവിയേച്ചി,ഭര്‍ത്തൃഗൃഹത്തിലെ ശ്രീയേച്ചി,പിന്നെ..എന്റെ മക്കള്‍ക്ക് അമ്മയും. പേരുപോലെതന്നെ എന്റെ സ്വഭാവവും,നിമിഷനേരംകൊണ്ട് മാറുന്നു, സമാധാനത്തോടെ പെരുമാറുന്ന സൌമ്യ യായ കുടുംബിനി, കാര്യപ്രാപ്തിയുള്ള ഭാര്യ,നല്ല മരുമകള്‍ ,സ്നേഹമുള്ള ചേട്ടത്തിയമ്മ, സ്വന്തം വീട്ടില്‍ കളിക്കുട്ടിയായിരുന്നെങ്കിലും ഇന്നു മക്കളുടെ കൂ‍ട്ടുകാരി.
ഒന്‍പതു സഹോദരങ്ങളുള്ളൊരുവീട്ടിലെ മൂത്തമരുമകളാണു ഞാന്‍.പതിനെട്ടു വയസ്സില്‍ എന്നെക്കാളും പ്രായക്കൂടുതലുള്ളവര്‍ക്കും ഞാന്‍ ചേച്ചിയായി.അവരുടെ ശ്രീയേച്ചി.. അധികാരവും,പദവിയും ധനവും കൈകളിലെത്തിയപ്പോഴും,എന്റെ കൌമാരസ്വപ്നങ്ങള്‍ നിത്യവും കണ്ണുനീര്‍തൂകി എന്നോട് പിണങ്ങിനിന്നു. ദാവണിയില്‍ കണ്ണിരൊപ്പാന്‍ തുടങ്ങുന്നയെന്നെ എന്റെഭര്‍ത്താവ് സാന്ത്വനിപ്പിച്ചു.സഹാനുഭൂതികാട്ടി സ്നേഹിച്ചു.അതു എന്റെ ഭാഗ്യമായിരുന്നു. സമ്പത്ത് എന്റെ മുന്നില്‍ കൈകെട്ടിനിന്നു.ഞാന്‍ ആഗ്രഹിക്കുന്നതെന്തും എന്റെ കൈകളില്‍ എന്റെ ഭര്‍ത്താവ് എത്തിച്ചു. ഞാന്‍അമ്മയായീ..തിരുവനന്തപുരത്തെ അറിയപ്പെടുന്ന ഒരു പുരാതന നായര്‍ കുടുംബാംഗത്തിലെ മൂത്ത മരുമകള്‍ എന്ന നിലയില്‍ ഞാനിന്നും തല ഉയര്‍ത്തി നില്‍ക്കുംപോള്‍ എന്നിലെ പാവാടക്കാരി, അറിയാതെയെങ്കിലും അവളുടെ നടക്കാതെ പോയ മോഹങ്ങളെ ആരും കാണാതെ പഴയ കടലാസ്സു താളുകളില്‍കോറിയിട്ടതാണ്, ഇന്നത്തെ എന്റെ കവിതകള്‍;
പാവാടക്കാരി ദാവണിയുടുത്തതും, പിന്നെ സാരിയിലേയ്ക്ക് മാറിയതും, അമ്മയായതും,അകമേഅറിഞ്ഞതും വിധിച്ചതും കൊതിച്ചതും എല്ലാം അതിലുണ്ട്. എന്റെ ബാല്യത്തെ ഞാന്‍ തിരിഞ്ഞുനോക്കുമ്പോള്‍.... തിരുവനന്തപുരത്തെ ഒരു ഇടത്തരം കുടുംബത്തിലാണെന്റെ ജനനം . എന്റെ പിതാവു ഭാഷാപണ്ഡിതനായ ഒരു അദ്ധ്യാപകനായിരുന്നു. കുടുംബിനിയായ അമ്മ .ഒപ്പം സഹോദരങ്ങള്‍ ആറുപേര്‍.വിദ്യാഭ്യാസ നിലവാരത്തില്‍ ഉന്നതപദവിയില്‍ ഇന്ന് എല്ലാപേരും നില്‍ക്കുന്നു. മൂത്ത സഹോദരന്‍ ഡോ;മാത്രം ഇന്നില്ല.ബാല്യത്തിന്റെ ഒട്ടേറെ കാര്യങ്ങള്‍ ഇന്നും ഓര്‍മ്മയിലുണ്ടെങ്കിലും കൌമാരത്തിന്റെ തിളക്കമതിലില്ലല്ലോ.? തിരുവനന്തപുരം മോഡല്‍ഹൈസ്ക്കൂ,ള്‍,കോട്ടണ്‍ഹില്‍ഹൈസ്ക്കൂള്‍, വിമന്‍സ് കോളേജ്ജ് മഹാത്മഗാന്ധികോളേജ്ജ്....ഇതാണെന്റെ വിദ്യാഭ്യാസത്തിന്റെ വഴികള്‍... കാലത്തിന്റെ പോക്കില്‍ വഴിയില്‍ കണ്ടവരെ ഞാനിന്നുമോര്‍ക്കുന്നു.... ( എട്ടു വയസ്സില്‍ ആദ്യമായി ഞാനെഴുതിയ കുഞ്ഞുനാടകം....) ' "തെറ്റിദ്ധാരണ" എന്റെ അമ്മയുടെ കാല്‍പ്പെട്ടിയില്‍ ഇന്നും എന്റെ അഭിമാനമായി അമ്മ സൂക്ഷിച്ചു വച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. എന്നെ കാത്തിരിക്കുന്ന അതിനെ ഞാന്‍ ഇന്നും നിധിപോലെ കരുതുന്നു. ഓര്‍ക്കുമ്പോള്‍ കണ്ണു നിറയുമെങ്കിലും ഞാന്‍ ഇന്നും എന്നും അതോര്‍ക്കുന്നു. വിധി എന്നെങ്കിലും ആഗ്രഹം നടത്തിത്തരുമെന്ന് പറയുന്നത് ശരിയാണെന്ന് ഞാന്‍ തിരിച്ചറിഞ്ഞത് എന്റെ കവിതകള്‍ ഭാഗ്യവശാല്‍ പ്രശസ്ത നിരൂപകനും കവിയുമായ ശ്രീമാന്‍ എം കെ ഹരികുമാര്‍ വായിച്ചു അഭിപ്രായം പറഞ്ഞപ്പോഴാണ്. ഹരികുമാര്‍,എനിയ്ക്ക് അന്യനല്ല എങ്കിലും അദ്ദേഹത്തിന്റെ ശ്രമം ഒന്നു കൊണ്ടുമാത്രം എന്റെ രഹസ്യ സൂക്ഷിപ്പുകളായ കവിതകളും കഥകളും പുറം ലോകം അറിയാനിടയായീ. അതില്‍ എം കെ ഹരികുമാര്‍ എന്നവ്യക്തിയോട്എനിയ്ക്കുള്ള കടപ്പാടുകള്‍ ഇനിയും ബാക്കീ......
എന്റെ പ്രിയ സ്നേഹിതനു ഞാന്‍ വീണ്ടും നന്ദി പറയുന്നൂ.

പുസ്തകാനുഭവം

2008-08-22T05:20:00.000-07:00

വീട്ടമ്മയുടെ കാവ്യ ജീവിതം
ബ്ലൂമാംഗോ ബുക്സ് പുറത്തിറക്കിയ , ശ്രീദേവിനായരുടെ ദ് പെയിന്റ്ഡ് ഫോംസ് [The Painted Forms]എന്ന് കൃതിയപ്പറ്റി പ്രശസ്ത കവിയും വിമര്ശകനുമായ ഡോ. ദേശമംഗലം രാമകൃഷ്ണന്‍ എഴുതിയ പുസ്തകാനുഭവം.
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മലയാളത്തില്‍ ഏറെക്കവിത, ഈകവി എഴുതിയെങ്കിലും ഒന്നും പ്രസിദ്ധപ്പെടുത്തിയിട്ടില്ല.

അനുഗൃഹീത നിമിഷങ്ങളുടെ ജന്മങ്ങളായ തന്റെ മാതൃഭാഷാരചനകള്‍ കവി ഒളിപ്പിച്ചു
വച്ചിരിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു.

എന്നാല്‍ അവയുടെ ഇംഗ്ലിഷ് വിവര്‍ത്തനത്തിലൂടെ ശ്രീദേവിനായര്‍ കവിതാമണ്ഡലത്തില്‍ സ്ഥാനം പിടിക്കുന്നുകവിതയുടെ ആഗോളവിപണിയില്‍ ഇങ്ങനെയൊരു അസാധാരണത്വം സാധിച്ച പ്രസാധകര്‍
അഭിനന്ദനമര്‍ഹിക്കുന്നു

ലോക കവിതയുടെ പ്രത്യേകിച്ച് ഇംഗ്ലിഷ് കവിതയുടെ ഭാവുകത്വത്തോട് പൊരുത്തപ്പെടുന്ന വിധത്തില്‍
എഡിറ്റുചെയ്തും സാന്ദ്രീകരിച്ചുമുള്ള ലഘുപ്രകരണങ്ങളാക്കിയാണ് ഈ പുസ്തകം സംവിധാനം ചെയ്തിട്ടുള്ളത്.
അനുഭവനിമിഷങ്ങളുടെ രൂപങ്ങളും, രൂപരാഹിത്യങ്ങളും, ഭാവങ്ങളും ഭാവരാഹിത്യങ്ങളും വെളുപ്പും കറുപ്പും ചേര്‍ന്നചിത്രങ്ങള്‍ പോലെ ഇതില്‍ കോറിയിട്ടിരിക്കുന്നൂ.കവിത എന്നതു മൂകമായ ചിത്രമാണെന്നും ചിത്രമെന്നത് മൊഴിയുന്ന കവിതയാണന്നും പറയാറുണ്ട്.

അതിനാല്‍ കവിയുടെ സ്വരം ഉച്ചത്തിലല്ല.ഉച്ചത്തിലല്ലാത്തതിനാല്‍ ആഖ്യാനാത്മകവുമല്ല.
ഏകാന്തഭാഷണങ്ങളാണ് അവ. തോരാതെ പെയ്യുന്ന മഴയിലൂടെ കവി, ഏതൊക്കെയോ മുഖങ്ങളെ, കാലങ്ങളെ, വേദനകളെ അനുഭവിക്കുന്നൂ.
മഴയുടെ അര്‍ത്ഥം തേടുന്ന കവി മനുഷ്യ മനസ്സിന്റെ അസ്തിത്വമാണ് അന്വേഷിക്കുന്നത്.
' Those who see and feel rain
Do not know the secret
Of having a mind of their own.
The wetness of the rain
Is a pre historic secret
A secret that
Science faild to define"

വൈകാരികമായ ഒരു ആശയ സംക്രമണമാണ് ഇതെങ്കിലും മഴയെന്ന പ്രകൃതി പ്രതിഭാസത്തെ
കാവ്യാനുഭവമാക്കി മാറ്റാന്‍ കവിക്കു കഴിഞ്ഞിട്ടുണ്ട്.
"മഴയുടെ ഈര്‍പ്പം "എന്ന ചരിത്രാതീത രഹസ്യം;;
ഇത് വികാരത്തില്‍ നിന്നും സങ്കല്പന വാശിയിലേയ്ക്കുള്ള പരിവര്‍ത്തനമാണ്.
ഇങ്ങനെയുള്ള തിരിവുകള്‍ ഇതിലെ മിക്ക കവിതകളിലും കാണാം.
"മഴ പെയ്യുന്നുണ്ടെങ്കിലും,എനിക്കതു കാണാന്‍ കഴിയുന്നില്ലാ. തകര്‍ന്ന വിഗ്രഹങ്ങള്‍ പോലെയാണ് മഴ.
മഴ എനിയ്ക്ക് പ്രണയം പോലെ പെയ്തെങ്കില്‍.----എന്നാണ് മറ്റൊരുകവിതയില്‍ കവി
ആശിക്കുന്നത്. ഇങ്ങനെ ഒരു പ്രതിഭാസമോ,പ്രതിമാനമോ പ്രമേയമായും സാദൃശ്യ മൂലകമായും
വളരെ വിദഗ്ദ്ധമായി വിനിയോഗിക്കാന്‍ ഈ കവിയ്ക്കു കഴിയുന്നുണ്ട്.
സംവേദനത്തെ തൃപ്തിപ്പെടുത്തുന്ന വിധത്തിലുള്ള വിവര്‍ത്തനരീതിയാണ് ഇതിലുള്ളത്.
മൂലകവിയെ വിവര്‍ത്തകര്‍ എല്ലാ വിധത്തിലും സംരക്ഷിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നു. സഹൃദയനില്‍ ഉന്മീലനമുളവാക്കാന്‍
പോന്ന പദവാക്യവിന്യാസരീതിയാണ് വിവര്‍ത്തകര്‍ വിനിയോഗിച്ചിരിക്കുന്നത്.

I don't want anybody's foot prints
I can't bow to somebody's feet
I wish I could shed the guise
And turn naked.!

ലോകകവിതാ രീതിയുടെ തിളനിലയോ,ഉറയല്‍നിലയോ അനുഭവപ്പെടുത്തുന്നതാണ് ഈ വിവര്‍ത്തനരീതി.
ഒരു ഫെമിനിസ്റ്റ് അല്ലെങ്കിലും വൈകാരിക സ്വാതന്ത്ര്യത്തിനുവേണ്ടി ദാഹിക്കുന്ന ഒരു തിരസ്ക്കാരമോഹിയെ
മുകളിലുദ്ധരിച്ചവരികളില്‍ കാണാം.ഓരോവാക്കിലും അര്‍ത്ഥം തേടുന്ന കവി വാക്കിന്‍ന്റെ നൈഷ്ഫല്യത്തെ
ക്കുറിച്ചു ബോധവതി യാകുന്നു.ആയതിനാല്‍ അനാദിയായ മഴയിലേക്കെന്ന പൊലെ വരകളിലേയ്ക്കും.
നിറങ്ങളിലേയ്ക്കും കവി അന്യേഷിച്ചു പോകുന്നു.ഒന്നിനും നിര്‍വ്വചിതമായ അര്‍ത്ഥമില്ലാ.അതു ജീവിതത്തിന്റെ വിധിയാണെന്ന് philosophy എന്ന കവിതയില്‍ പറയുന്നു. കാണുന്ന മഴ,..കാണാത്ത മഴ..
എന്ന കവി ദര്‍ശനം മിക്ക കവിതകളിലും പിന്തുടരുന്നു.
"May be there some other flowers /for I continue my journey' (Different Flowers)..
എന്നാല്‍ No Flower Is Poetry;Not poetic either...എന്ന നിഷേധത്തിലാണ് കവി എത്തിച്ചേരുന്നത്.
തലകീഴായൈ തൂങ്ങിക്കിടക്കുന്ന വവ്വാലുകള്‍ക്കാണ്,മനുഷ്യന്റെ നഗ്നതയും അവന്‍ അറിഞ്ഞിട്ടില്ലാത്ത സ്വന്തം
സൌന്ദര്യവും കാണാന്‍ കഴിയുന്നതെന്ന് കവി പറയുന്നത്.
അങ്ങനെ വ്യാഖ്യാനസവിശേഷമായ ബിംബമെന്ന നിലയില്‍ ശ്രീദേവിനായരുടെ ' Bats'എന്ന കവിത
ശ്രദ്ധാര്‍ഹമാണ്.

ചുരുക്കത്തില്‍ വിലക്ഷണമായ വിചാരങ്ങളുടേയും നിരീക്ഷണങ്ങളുടേയും വസ്തുക്കളുടെയും ലഘുവായ വിന്യാസ ഭംഗികളാണ് ഈ സമാഹാരത്തില്‍ അനുഭവപ്പെടുന്നത്.
'' മര്‍ത്ത്യായുസ്സില്‍ സാരമായതു ചില
മുന്തിയ സന്ദര്‍ഭങ്ങള്‍..അല്ല,
മാത്രകള്‍ മാത്രം'""

എന്ന് വൈലോപ്പിള്ളി പറഞ്ഞിട്ടുണ്ടല്ലോ?
ഒരു വീട്ടമ്മ തന്റെ പണിത്തിരക്കൊഴിഞ്ഞ നിമിഷങ്ങളില്‍....
ഏകാന്തതയിലൂടെ, എങ്ങനെ മറ്റൊരു ജന്മം തേടുന്നുവെന്ന് ഈ കാവ്യ നിമിഷങ്ങള്‍ മന്ത്രിക്കുന്നൂ..
കവിതയുടെ ആഗോള വിപണിയിലേയ്ക്ക് കടന്നു ചെല്ലാന്‍ തക്ക പ്രാപ്തിയും,
പ്രൌഢിയും ഈ സമാഹാരത്തിനുണ്ട്.
ഇതിന്റെ.. സംവിധാന കല മികച്ചതു തന്നെ.

[ഒരു വര്‍ഷം മുമ്പു പ്രസിദ്ധീകരിച്ചതാണ്‌ ഈ റിവ്യൂ.]

poems

2008-08-21T00:13:00.000-07:00

He won’t come

The days when he was expected
Were far far away.
He has not come yet.
The flowers kept for him
Have gone withered.
Words too have turned archaic.
Mind also got parched and scorched.

If ever he comes
Would this mind be enough?

Will he like
The tarnished face of mine?

There’s nothing in the body for him now.
I could give only
My charred mind and withered body,
The icons of the torrid times,
As a garland to him.

He won’t come.
If he comes or not
There’s nothing left.

Philosopher

My fate was to surrender.
Like the steps to success,
Tried in vain to count up
The steps to failure too.

While failing lamentably
I saw myself clearly.
I understood me.
Through my downfalls
I grew to a philosopher
In that way.

Elephant

The elephant, brought to the festival,
Didn’t catch musth.
There were women, men and kids
Thronged to see it going musth.

Seeing the human crowd
The elephant lost all its interest.
Thinking of the orgasm
Elephant raised its trunk
And wrote many things in the air.

The pundits did not understood a word of it.
The elephant then decided
That it’s in vain to enlighten the fools,
But listened to the beats of the drums
And cursed its own fate.

Stupidity

Yesterday’s morning was blank.
A sort of loneliness
Stood like stagnated sewage water,
In office, in house,
On road and in the shop-verandah.

There was an air
That all have gone vain.
In the void ness of the day
Tried to remember the friends.

Couldn’t get anyone.

Memories got choked heavily.

Picking up the phone book
Called a dame.
Even she was not available.

Tried to sleep, but never slept.
Changing the dress
Went straight to the theatre.
First, ‘Sivaji’ and then to ‘Panthaya Kozhi’.

Still got bored.
Due to the crowd
Came out of the hotel.

While standing by the road side
Without being hungry
Understood clearly
That life is a big stupidity.eing electrocuted.

A bird creates conflict

That bird came yesterday also.
There was something wrong
In the eyes of the bird
Whose name is not yet clear.

The bird that flew away
Came yesterday again.

When the bird comes
It flies around the Ilanji tree.
Kids enjoyed this.
They shooed away the bird.
But in the night also
Did the bird come.
Seems the bird does not sleep.
What use if it flies
Around the Ilanji tree in the night?

Men do not fly
Without any use.
The bird did not hear
The questions of men.
It just flew on and on.

Fed up, someone decided
To kill the bird.
When the trigger of the gun is pulled,
The bird disappeared.

Two days after
The bird that came again,
Was found hanging on a branch, dead,
B
Sculpture

The crowd is swelling
To see the nude sculpture of a woman
That stood before
A Devadaru tree.

Is nude attractive?
Sculptor loves nakedness.
All the organs
Are made to perfection.

Sculpture doesn’t need sex.
Only the onlookers need it.
Though the sculpture longed for sex
The sculptor forbids it.

The sculptor said:
You’re only a sculpture.
Your face and boobs
And body are all for the viewers.
You need just to stand there.
Those who throng to see you
Will decide what to do.
You’re not permitted
To have coitus.

You need not open your eyes.
To kindle wild erotica
You can lean a bit, if need be.
Even if you lie flat on the ground
It doesn’t matter much.

Sculpture said:
How long does it take
To know what coitus is?

Sculptor said:
Don’t wait.
Waiting for long for it
You’ll go insane.
You don’t have any right
Over your sex-needs.
You are only a showcase-object.

To see the fire catching up on your body
The Minister and the Academy President
Are all coming.
You make them hot.

Hearing this the sculpture trembled.
Out of that shivering
A fire broke out somehow.
In that fire
The sculpture got charred.

poems: Sree Devi Nair

Two Chapters

2008-08-19T00:57:00.000-07:00

Two chapters from CRUSADING IN THE AGE OF AMNESIA

BY SUDHAKARAN RAMANTHALI

Govindan's mission failed P.K and Gangadharan came. They cannot simply ignore the duty of bringing Achyuthan back into the right track.

Election to the Hospital Trust has come. There are gaps in Sekharan's group. This was working slowly as carefully planned by Ravindran and Musthapha.

Sekharan Muthalali has to win the election this time somehow. P.K. and Govindan might have come to the forefront for the sake of their boss. Achyuthan regarded them with despise.
"I have a request to Achyuthan." P.K. said. "I repeat 'request'. Please do not stand against the Party. Last time also..."
"Last time you had strength. There is no need to say simply, leave alone the request. But you doubt this time Sekharan Muthalali will fail? Right?"
"it is not like that. How long will we entertain others by quarreling each other? It has to end. Achyuthan has to take the initiative."
"There are four seats vacant now. Let us talk with both group and avoid a contest. Let them split 2 seats each."
"Suppose they do not agree?"
Gangadharan laughed like a pimp.
"They will listen if Achu Ettan tell them."
"If I don't talk, then?" Achyuthan's voice turned hard.
"Achyuthan" P.K. said raising his voice a bit; "We request you considering you as an experienced comrade. It is not difficult to give evidence that you are working against the Party. It is real anti-party activity. It is not that we do not know how to keep you away by saying all these in the public. The Party knows well how to handle its enemies."
"Are you threatening?"

Gangadharan laughed again like a pimp.
"Don't say Achu Etta like that. Let us discuss issues practically."
"First of all try to think practically. You keep away those sincerely worked for the Party, stamping them anti-elements. For what? To help a boss like Sekharan? He has made the Trust as if it is his family property. Hear that lakhs worth money is being floundered there. Whatever boss does, servants accept. You need money, right? That he gives you as much as you want. Then what/ do you know the past history of this Sekharan?"

P.K. remained silent.
"People will say things of that sort. What else can't they say? I also heard that Achyuthan has elicited money to influence the M.D and cancelled the transfer of some higher officials. But I never believed it..."

"Those who know Achu Ettan will never believe." Gangadharan supported P.K.
"But there are many who do not know that also."

"You can propagandize whether they believe it or not. There is no use in talking like this. My attitude towards the election of Trust won't change. Trust being the product of People's Art Forum has to com back to the mother-organization."

"We are not opposing it."

"Then why don't you amend in the Trust? You still have a majority there."
"Have to re-examine the legal intricacies."

"Gangadharan, don't talk too much. You got votes and won saying that you would fight for the People's Art forum within the Trust, and turned to be the right-hand of Sekharan."
-69-

"Achu Etta..."

"No. I do not want to listen.'
P.K. stood up.
"Then listen another thing. Jayaraj and his friends are bringing up a no-confidence motion against Achyuthan. In the next committee meeting of the union they will have it approved. We will also support it, and don't doubt about that. No individual is bigger than the Party."

"There are a lot of people on your side, who would not mind to compromise anything to stick on with the official positions. But you do not get me for that."

"Remember you are talking to the District Secretary."

"i will say whatever I feel right anywhere. Anyway thanks. I have no interest in the election of Trust this time. Now I am sure that I need to work."

"Okay. let it be so."

They did not drink the tea Sita brought in. Sunil came in minutes after they have gone out.

"Is there no one to ask you here? Factory was over by five o'clock. Where have you been till this time?"

Sunil just smiled at mother's question and approached father.
"Dad, what are you thinking? Did the leaders go out from here?"
"You had seen them?"
"Yes. Understood why they came too. Even if you join with them, we will fail them."

Achyuthan's mind filled with satisfaction. But he did not say anything.

"I am asking you. You come so late since last week." Sita started again.

"Mom, I may be late for a few more days. Isn't it all for a good thing?"

"Like father son is also preparing to make the world better?"

"Imagine what would be the condition of our country if no one is taking initiative?'

"But I won't allow you." Sita advised son in a kind way. "No son. Look at daddy. After toiling there years what happened now? Going to oust him from the Union. the class forgets everything. my son, do not choose that path. Mom won't let you."
"Mom, don’t worry about anything. isn't it me who say this?' Sunil placed his palm on mother's shoulders.

"Mom is worried." She cried aloud. Son's pacifying did not work on her.

Achyuthan thought: Let her weep. Whatever that is suppressed inside should come out. Her own friends when decided to enjoy life, she was proud of her husband who dedicated his own life for the cause of a noble vision... took special care not to make her realize any worries about household affairs. When everything shatters, when realizing that everything was just a mirage, how could she help but cry?

That night Achyuthan did not bat an eyelid even once. He knew earlier that a no-confidence motion is about to move against him in the Union. Nine members of the money lenders in the company are now under suspension. All union groups irrespective of the ruling and the opposition are in the arena to save them. They will strangle those who raise voice against immoral activities with a thousand hands to death.

Sunil reaches home around eight thirty in the night after leaving the factory at five. Friendship with Musthapha and Ravindran has opened new avenues before him. he is working for the candidates of the People's Art Forum who will contest to the Hospital Trust. the biggest achievement for him was that he could meet a large group of members directly and make them aware of the issues. He got a few new friends too. All were new experiences to him.

It might be weeks since meeting Vally. While going through the telephone booth, takes a look inside. Couldn't see her in most evenings. there is a small office room on the other side of the booth. If she sits there, she won’t be seen.
What happened to Vally?

After Muniswamy's death very rarely Vally is seen.

One Saturday, as usual leaving mother in colony, Sunil walked to the booth. Booth was not open. Before she used to wait for me after opening the booth so early. She used to say that unless it is opened exactly at eight o'clock, the owner would scold her. But now a days the booth will not be open even at 9 O'clock. Vally's influence and authority is increasing. She is not afraid of the owner anymore now. Sometimes she remains in the booth even if it is late in the night.

Sunil felt all these not good. the more he thought, the question of Vally's relationship to him disturbed him. What right do I have to interfere in her private affairs?

Once while traveling in Ravindran's car along with Musthapha, saw Vally in M.G Road. She was with a handsome youngster. Holding his hands and caressing his body, Vally was walking all the same talking.

She was like this with me too in the National Park... Sunil thought.

Vally is not like what I imagined.

Romantic imageries read from the stories, romantic scenes seen in the movies, all were attached with the thoughts about Vally. What a sweet emotion it is to have a girl who loves me!

Sunil did not brood much over romance.
What is love? is it really possible/ Even if it is so, is it a temporary phenomenon? Will there be a permanent and rock-solid attachment, can man have towards a woman or a woman can have towards a man? Sunil could not believe it will happen ever.

Sunil felt Vally was trying to escape from seeing him. She used to stand near the booth watching him going or coming. Used to present a smile to him.

Anyway have to see Vally. Want to talk with her.

There are onlly four days left for the election to the Trust. sunil was waiting for Ravindran in front of the Post Office. Crossing the road Vally landed just in front of him. Vally might not have expected him there.
"Vally"
Hearing Sunil’s call, she looked up. Smiled softly.
"Long time did not see you Vally. Whenever passing through I think of meeting you. But..."
"Busy now. Have to sit in the office."
Stepping one step closer to Vally, he asked: "What happened to you? Surely it is not that old Vally who is standing here."
"Is everything changing Sunil?"
"There may be a lot in life that won't change."
"Oh I am not in a mood to talk dialogue. All are old empty words. But life does not limit itself in any dialogue."
"Didn't get you?"
"Sunil won't understand. I want to live. I want to finish this life living comfortably. no meaning in dreaming this or that and suffer for nothing."

"Vally, what are these that you say?"
"I told you, Sunil won’t understand it. One thing you said is true. I am not old Vally. Never going to be one at all. Sunil should not think about me." she began to walk slowly ahead.

"How can I not think of you? i cannot forget those old things."

"Must forget. I forgot all that. It was a period of dreaming. Now reality is the issue. Old imaginations will go broken by itslef. Let me ask one thing. Sunil, do you still like me?"
"Yes but..."
"Don't know what kind of liking it is, right?"
"Vally..."
"Those hallucinations are all gone. If you like me call me. I will come with you. But I won't surrender my freedom to anyone."
"Once upon a day in M.G road..."
"You might have seen me. Like that in several places. With many. When I said my freedom, i meant that."
Heard the horn of a car. Ravindran's car was parked by the road side.
"Vally you may go now. We will meet again."
"I am not in a hurry. Can I also come with you? “No. We have to go to a place."

Without waiting for her reaction Sunil walked towards the car.
"Who is that?" Asked Ravindran. While answering lazily to his questions, Sunil lost his peace of mind.

SEVENTEEN

From the crowd to loneliness.
No one could believe that change in Achyuthan who knew him close. He has no interest at all to go to the Union Office. Until a few days back the Union Office was one of his favorite places in his life.

It was while sitting there he felt relief from mental pressures. That old building was the root cause of his very existence.

Achyuthan sat staring distantly when he knew Sekharan and his friends failed in the Trust elections. When Musthapha and Ravindran began asking about the issues of factory, he discouraged them.

"Must do something to propagandize to educate them. Achu Ettan, if you sit like this..."

"I have nothing to say. Let them do as they please. If the workers do not want me, leave it. It is they who have to decide it."

"This is not the right attitude Achu Etta. If there is no response from our side, it will be proved that whatever they say is right."

"No. No one need to interfere in this matter."

Achyuthan changed the subject by congratulating Ravindran: "Good work. You have won a great win. When injustice is ruling everywhere, it is not that easy to defeat a man like Sekharan. you have done very well."

"The problems in the factory are not that simple as you think, Dad." Sunil, who has been listening to all this said: "We have to do something. We have to give a suiting reply to the notice they have distributed. There are a lot of workers who still admire you dad."

"I do not bother now a days about good will."
"Is it dad you tell like this?"
"Yes. I need peace of mind." He stood up.

Although the transfer has been cancelled, Achyuthan knew that there would be no progress in Subrahmanyan's life as he saw him.

Some time back, when he came home with a gift packet, Achyuthan scolded him and send back. Achyuthan never expected any gift from anyone.

When talked in hard words, Subrahmanyan apologized: "Excuse me Sir, there won't be any mistakes as this from my side hereafter." Then, there were no problems in the factory.

"Because of me you had a lot of headache. That's my fate."

"What do you want Subrahmanyan?"
"Is that you helped me, you had this much trouble?"
"What trouble?"
"The more I think of it I cannot stand it. Why don't you talk against them, sir? If people like you sit silent then..."

"Silence also has its own strength, Subrahmanyan. I never had any problem because of you. Your cause came up in that time. If it was not there, there would be something else."

-73-
"They fight against my attitude."

"Still..."
"There is nothing like still... Subrahmanyan may go, must be more careful in family matters. I have respect towards you. While suffocating under hardships you remained honest and truthful. I hope there won't be any change in your approach hereafter."

"You can trust me fully, sure."

He watched Subrahmanyan as he walked into the darkness. Walking a bit off balanced towards right side with a small stoop forward. The small bending curved the body foreword.

*****************

There are people to disgrace Achyuthan openly within the factory and outside as well now. Money lenders and their cons hunted him. When he goes walking satirical comments arose.

One cold morning some one distributed a new notice about Achyuthan outside the factory gate. They were not union activists or workers. They were laborers from outside.

Achyuthan also got a notice. Sitting in the office he read it.

It was full of finely crafted lies to prompt all the workers against him. First time in life felt that he was failing in life. Am I becoming a victim of shame after all these years of dedicated services? There were glances of aversion. It is most unbearable to be get ignored under the guise of sympathy.

Getting disgraced.
Those who think in terms of revolution should not feel any sense of failure. Those who have taken the oath to change the social system should not feel disappointed.
That voice, which came from within before, seemed chocked now.
Mind and body is getting exhausted.
No quotes or equations could not give even an iota of consoling.

How fast hatred and shame began to well up in the eyes that once reflected love and admiration!

No one is willing to come out publicly in front of me. Workers are afraid of money lenders and their agents.

He took half a day's leave that day.

Enough now! Office seemed like a furnace. Colleagues show sympathy by their glances. That is what it makes most uncomfortable.

Notices have come. Now wall paintings would appear. There is a reason for the management to enjoy.

Sita was shocked seeing him early at home.
"Why, it seems like you are not quite well."

"Yes. Not well..."
He wanted to talk openly of his failures.

-74-
Not only body, but mind also is not well.
Where did I go wrong?
Have to say a lot of things. But how words will come out when the throat is bursting under pressure?

He who always shouted aloud that I never get disappointed, is now disappointed thoroughly.

Sita, the buds of optimism have gone burned.
He remembered, the days when he lay in hospital with typhoid. Workers used to come to see me in morning and in evening as well. The ward was crowded always. It became a nuisance for both the doctors and the nurses. Finally they kept a sign outside: visitors are not allowed. Yet they came.

Their eyes carried only love.

Yes! The same workers...

Have I to get out into the arena to make them aware of to day's situations and to educate them and have I to publish a suiting reply to the notices?

Can't! It seems all the strength has drained out.

I can be silent.

I won’t attend the meeting that will have the no-confidence motion against me. I do not have anything to say.

he went to the bed room.

Body was shivering. Limbs became numb and weightless. Throat is getting chocked.
Suddenly sweat came out. Whole body sweated profusely. Feels breathless. Nothing can be uttered.

Heard Sita's cry as if she was far far away.

Links of consciousness began to get detached one by one.
Going deeper and deeper into some bottomless depths.
Slowly, his eyes closed.

THE END

Translated by: K Santhosh Kumar, #37 Remya, Kochi-682024.

കവിത

2008-08-19T00:12:00.000-07:00

രാത്രി

പക്ഷിയുടെ കറുത്തതൂവലില്‍
രാത്രി മഴത്തുള്ളിയായി
പതുങ്ങിയിരുന്നു.
പക്ഷി പറക്കുന്നിടത്തെല്ലാം
രാത്രിയുംപോയി.

പുലരാറായപ്പോള്‍
പക്ഷി തൂവല്‍ വിടര്‍ത്തിവീശിയപ്പോള്‍
രാത്രി വല്ലാതെ ബോറടിച്ചു
തൂവലില്‍ നിന്ന് പിടിവിട്ട്
രാത്രി കൊഴിഞ്ഞു വീണു.

പ്രണയം ഭയമാണ്.

പ്രണയം പ്രേതബാധയാണെന്ന്
ഒരു സഹപാഠി പറഞ്ഞു.
അവള്‍ക്ക് പ്രണയം ഭയമാണ് നല്‍കിയത്.
പ്രണയിക്കുകയാണെങ്കില്‍
രതിയും,മരണവുംസ്വപ്നം കാണണമെന്ന
വാശിയായിരുന്നു അവള്‍ക്ക്.

അവള്‍ പ്രേമിച്ചുവഷളാക്കിയ
യുവാവിനെ ഇപ്പോഴുമവള്‍ക്ക് ഭയമാണ്.
അവള്‍ കാമുകനുമൊത്ത്
പോയിരിക്കാറുള്ള
ലൈബ്രറിയെ ഇപ്പോള്‍ ഭയമാണ്.

കാമുകനു നല്‍കുവാനായി
എടുത്തുകൊണ്ടു വന്നപുസ്തകങ്ങള്‍
ഇപ്പോള്‍ തൊടാറില്ല.
ആ പുസ്തകങ്ങള്‍ഭയപ്പെടുത്തുന്നത്
ഒരു പ്രത്യേക രീതിയിലാണത്രേ.

കാമുകനൊപ്പം നടന്ന വഴികളിലിപ്പോള്‍
ഭയം മാത്രമേയുള്ളൂ.
ഭയം സഹിക്കാന്‍ വയ്യാതെ
അവള്‍ അയാളെ,ഉപേക്ഷിക്കുകയാണുചെയ്തത്.

പ്രേമിക്കുന്ന ഒരോ നിമിഷത്തിലും
അവള്‍ ഓര്‍ത്തത്
ലൈംഗിക ജീവിതവും
തുടര്‍ന്നുള്ള പ്രസവവുമെല്ലാമായിരുന്നു

മറ്റുള്ളവരുടെ മുമ്പില്‍
കാമുകനൊത്ത് അല്ലെങ്കില്‍
ഭര്‍ത്താവുമൊത്ത്നില്‍ക്കേണ്ടി
വരുന്നതോര്‍ത്ത്
അവള്‍ ഭയപ്പെട്ടിരുന്നൂ.

ഭയമാണ്,അവളെ പ്രേമിച്ചത്.
അല്ല,അവള്‍ ഭയത്തെ പ്രേമിക്കുകയായിരുന്നു.
ഭയമില്ലാതെ അവള്‍ക്ക് ജീവിക്കാന്‍ കഴിയില്ലായിരുന്നു
ഭയത്തിനുവേണ്ടി
അവളെന്തും ഉപേക്ഷിക്കുമായിരുന്നു.
ജീവിതം തന്നെയും.

പാട്ടുകാരി

ഞാന്‍ ചിലപാട്ടുകള്‍ പാടി.
പക്ഷേ,അതാരും കേട്ടില്ല.
അതാര്‍ക്കും കേള്‍ക്കാനുള്ളതായിരുന്നില്ല.

പാട്ടുകളെന്നു ഞാന്‍ വിളിച്ചതെല്ലാം
നിലവിളികളായി മാറുകയായിരുന്നു.

ഏതുരാഗവും,
ഞാന്‍ ആലപിക്കുന്നതോടെ
വിലാപമായി മാറി.
എന്നിട്ടും എന്നെ
പാട്ടുകാരിയെന്നു പലരും വിളിക്കുന്നു.
കവിത: ശ്രീദേവി നായര്‍

coming soon

2008-08-16T23:27:00.000-07:00

New Book from Bluemango books :
coming soon!

ചായം തേച്ചരുപങ്ങള്‍

2008-08-16T22:47:00.000-07:00

ചായം കലര്‍ത്തിവരച്ചതെല്ലാം

പേടിപ്പിക്കുന്ന രൂപങ്ങളായി

കാന്‍വാസില്‍
നിറയുകയാണ്.

സുന്ദരമാക്കാന്‍ ശ്രമിച്ചപ്പോഴെല്ലാം
പിശാചുക്കള്‍ബ്രഷിലൂടെ
ഒലിച്ചിറങ്ങിക്കൊണ്ടിരുന്നു,

വര്‍ണ്ണങ്ങള്‍ക്കു പിന്നില്‍ ഒളിച്ചിരുന്ന്
ലോകത്തെ വികൃതമാക്കുന്നതാരാണ്.?
വര്‍ണ്ണങ്ങള്‍ ഏതെങ്കിലും
ഭീകര യാഥാര്‍ത്ഥ്യത്തിന്റെ
പിന്മുറക്കാരോ?പ്രതിനിധികളോ?

ജീവനില്‍ നിറം പിടിക്കാതിരിക്കാന്‍
ഞാന്‍ ബ്രഷ് കഴുകി സൂക്ഷിച്ചു.
മനുഷ്യ വികാരങ്ങള്‍ക്ക്
പച്ച നിറമുണ്ടോ?
പ്രകൃതി പച്ചയാണോ?

ജീവിതമാം മിഥ്യ
എവിടെയും സത്യമാവുന്നു.
കാലം എന്റെ കണ്ണുകളെ
സമാശ്വസിപ്പിക്കാനായി
കെട്ടുന്ന വേഷങ്ങളെല്ലാം
അഴിഞ്ഞു വീഴുകയാണ്

എന്റെ ആത്മാവിലും നിറയെ
വേഷങ്ങളാണ്.
എല്ലാ വേഷങ്ങളുമഴിച്ചുവച്ചു
നഗ്നയാവാന്‍ കഴിഞ്ഞെങ്കില്‍!

കവിത:ചായംതേച്ച രൂപങ്ങള്‍: Sreedevi nair

ശൂന്യത.

2008-08-16T22:36:00.000-07:00

പ്രണയതീരത്ത്‌ നിന്ന്‌ ഞാന്‍

മടങ്ങിപ്പോന്നത് മനസ്സിന്റെ
ഉഷ്ണ വനത്തിലേയ്ക്കാണ്.

ഒന്നുമില്ലാത്ത ഈ ലോകത്തിന്റെ
തനതു സ്വഭാവം മനസ്സിന്റെ
ചൂടു മാത്രമാണെന്നു ഇപ്പോഴറിയുന്നു.

മനസ്സിലുള്ളതെല്ലാം നമ്മുടെ
അവകാശങ്ങളുടെ പട്ടികയില്‍
ഇടം തേടുമെന്ന് ഞാന്‍ വ്യാമോഹിക്കുന്നു.

നമ്മള്‍ ശൂന്യരാണ്.
ആരോടും സ്നേഹമില്ലാത്തവര്‍.
ജനിതകമായും നമ്മള്‍ ശൂന്യരാണ്.
കവിത: ശ്രീദേവി നായര്‍

poems by Sree Devi Nair

2008-08-14T02:52:00.000-07:00

Pathways

It is ecstatic
To go alone endlessly,
For the pathways.
The paths that go alone always
Gathers people by chance.
Why the loneliness for the pathways?
They stumbled upon a trick
To overcome
The meaningless loneliness.
It’s this:
To make travelers
Wayward.
Misguided travelers
Would come again through this path;
Searching for the place
From where they did come.

Soul of the soil

I am searching my ancestors in this soil.
I remember some
Who came to bore a well
Near our house.
When I heard the noise
They made while boring the earth,
I got afraid.
Memories of some
Dead bodies
Did shake me.

Someone’s picking up the bones.
Some laughed aloud
Hearing the tunes of the last rites.
Some others did
Retaliate something
In a language
That seemed gibberish.
Is it water
In such pits
Or is it the water
Of some departed soul?

The Leaves

Leaves spreading veins,
Became an art by itself.
No one seeks the hidden historical truths
In these spread out veins that can be traced.
In PhotoShop of the computer
Did some leaves appear
As if the memories of death
That left words or tools.
The banyan-tree leaves
Spread as screen saver
But said nothing about
Krishna or Gita.

Daylight

How dear are the daylights.
Is there some holy note
Sent by someone hidden in daylights?

Unexplainable music,
Crystal-like mental simplicity,
Do these daylights give?

Is this daylight
The smile of a secret of life
That is beyond the earth?
Is it the transparency
Reminds of many habitats?
This brightness makes
Yesterday’s sorrows meaningless.
Nature’s emotive profile.

The actress who left the drama

The actor who came down from the screen
Had a limp.
How clear it is
That all was fake when he laughed or cried.
Still tried to find fun in that.
He never assumed
Himself an actor
Or a character.
But, since knowing his story,
Everything was clear.
Yet he wanted to act.
He showed every act of ugliness
To prove he was not the one who lived so long.
I, who knew all his history,
Left the theatre when got bored.
I could also become
An actress who left the drama.

Computer Bird

A bird did come
Drenched in the rain.
While shaking its
Drawn-out wings,
It did look at
The computer in the room.
Nothing seemed clear first.
It came slowly near the room
And sat watching the computer image.
There was a picture then,
In the computer of a bird.
Did that bird understand that picture?
No. How could it?
The picture was taken
When it came yesterday
To peck the rice grains.
While flying away
That bird laughed aloud.
But I never understood
The meaning of that laughter.

ശ്രീദേവി നായരുടെ കവിതകള്‍

2008-08-12T03:20:00.000-07:00

വസന്തം

വസന്തങ്ങളുടെ ബീജം
ഓരോ,സ്ത്രീയും പേറുന്നുണ്ട്..
ആണിന്റെ സാമിപ്യമില്ലെങ്കിലും
കുന്തിയെപ്പോലെ
സൂര്യനെയും,കാറ്റിനെയും
പ്രണയിച്ചു പ്രസവിക്കണം.
ഒരു കര്‍ണ്ണനെ പ്രസവിക്കാന്‍
ഏതു സ്ത്രീയാണ് ആഗ്രഹിക്കാത്തത്.
സൂര്യന്റെ ഭാര്യയാകാന്‍,
ഒരു നിമിഷമെങ്കിലും മോഹിക്കരുതോ?
വരുണനും,അഗ്നിയുമെല്ലാം
നല്ല കന്യകമാരെ,സ്ത്രീകളെ,
അന്യേഷിക്കുന്നുണ്ടെന്നു കേട്ടു.
വാര്‍ദ്ധക്യത്തിലേയ്ക്കു
നീങ്ങുമ്പോഴും മനസ്സില്‍
ആഗ്രഹങ്ങല്‍ ബാക്കി..

ഏകാന്തത

ഏകാന്തതയുടെ ഗൃഹത്തില്‍ ഞാനെന്റെ ദുഃഖങ്ങള്‍ക്കായീ
ഒരു സ്മാരകം പണിയുകയാണ്
ചിന്തകള്‍ ശലഭങ്ങളായിപ്പറക്കുകയാണ്
വരുമെന്നുറപ്പിച്ച സുഹൃത്തുക്കളുടെ വിളിപോലുമില്ല.
വിലാപങ്ങളിപ്പോള്‍ മനസ്സിനകത്താണുള്ളത്.
അതു ശരീരത്തിന്റെ അവകാശമാണ്.
വിലാപങ്ങള്‍ക്ക് ഭാഷയുമില്ല
നാടോ വീടോ ഇല്ല.
അവ ഒരിടത്തു നിന്നുത്ഭവിച്ച്
എങ്ങോ പോകുന്നൂ,
എന്നാല്‍ വഴിയേപോകുന്ന വേദനകള്‍ക്ക്പാര്‍ക്കാന്‍.
എന്റെ ശരീരം മതിയോ?
ഓര്‍മ്മകളുടെ കടല്‍ക്കരയില്‍
ഞാന്‍ നില്‍ക്കുകയാണ്.
എന്നാല്‍ എന്റെ മനസ്സിപ്പോള്‍
മണല്‍ത്തരികള്‍പോലെ
ശിഥിലമാണ്.
ഈ ശൈഥില്യമാണോ എന്റെ അസ്തിത്വം?
എന്റെയുള്ളിലെ അനേകമനസ്സിനെ
വകഞ്ഞുമാറ്റി ഞാന്‍ നടക്കുകയാണ്.
മൃദുലമായ വികാരങ്ങളെല്ലാം
കാലസ്പര്‍ശത്താല്‍
കാരിരുമ്പായി.
ഞാനെത്രയോ മാറിപ്പോയീ!.

Bluemango Books

Interview with Winnie J Panicker

2008-08-12T03:07:00.000-07:00

My poems are basically my inner feelings

1] What new writing are you working on now?

I am still writing poems. There is basically no specific target while I write. If something like new is asked, well I might say that I am trying to focus on using a variety of words in my poems. I have now got a fantasy to write short poems having four lines.
Poems are always spontaneous or thoughts that lay in my mind for quite some time and then erupt at some point of my day.
I have a blog http://www.winniejpanicker.blogspot.com . I do casual writings there. I am planning to update it as frequently as I can.

2] What is the relation between autobiography and the subject matter of your poems?

I have written poems where in I place myself as the person speaking to the reader, but those poems need not be my personal experience. I maybe visualizing myself as someone I know but will try to express my need through the first person. I have never tried to explain what the real me is through my poems. So, an autobiographical effort has not yet been employed. The subjects of my poems are basically my inner feelings, which I try to recollect and ultimately mould them into words, but a justification of my character is not portrayed in them. For example: The poem “Yet I Let my Emotions Float” was completely my inner feeling which I recollected and made into words.

3] What is your sense of the ethical obligations of poems—the role that ethics and morality play in your writing process, and in your sense of poetics?

Like I said, I try to express what I feel through my poems. It is a medium of expression for me. My views towards the society, the ills happening in the society and even the good happenings in the society are tried to be brought forward through the writings. One should be true to oneself. If you have trust in yourself, then even if the entire world is against you, you would not mind. That should be ones moral obligations to the self. And that is what I believe.

4] Do you have any idea of experimenting poetry?
Every poem is an experiment in one way or the other. The poem “Asatoma Satgamaya” was an experimental poetry. I wrote that poem listening to a 10 minute long instrumental music. The music beats could pump up the rhythmic beats of that poem. Some poems brew for some time in my head and I think of using different words or connecting it with happenings in our daily life. Otherwise all my poems were written out of normal temptation. It was just plainly putting feelings into words, more of self expression than experimentation.

5] What is your aesthetic knowledge of words? Are words disguised?
Actually, a word can be interpreted in many ways. I try to portray one specific meaning through a word. It is the readers who decide what meaning it should be taken in. evebeauty. ry word has its own beauty.Harmony lies while writing poems too. Even the word ‘ugly’ can become ‘beautiful’ if it is coupled with other supporting words. While I write a poem, I sometimes check the thesaurus for synonyms for variety in my poem.

6] Do you think that a poet is a space for generating sadness from unusual happenings?
No. A poem generates all emotions. It’s not only sadness that prevails in a poem. Experiences play a big role in writing poems. I do believe that if one is going through extremity of emotions, then he/she can write poems. Such poems will always make you feel close to it. Every person reading a poem interprets it in a different way. It’s always the reader who determines the emotion of the poem.

7] How do you deviate from the ordinary pathways of poems and word meanings?
I believe a poet is like a child. A child is always curious to know about new things and often find different meanings to the usually ‘set agendas’ in the society. A writer should be like that. For example, the word “red” may just mean a colour. But, It can be interpreted in many ways. It can have the meaning of anger, love, violence, blood, celebration, etc. that way, when I write I try to visualize the various dimensions in which a word can be used and often employ them in my poems.

8] What are cosmic and metaphysical aspects of poetry?
Well, right now I am in my teenage and I believe that I am not yet grown up to talk about this wide aspect- metaphysics.
But I can recollect that I used to be curious to know how the universe began and how the earth exists, whether there is any other galaxy existing. My dad says that I was a curious child. I always bewildered whether a seed came first or a tree came first.
I haven’t done any deep search or study in philosophy, but the uncertainty or our mere existence is all a wonder. Some thoughts like how tiny we actually were in our mothers wombs, or how the eye sees the surroundings or is it actually what the eye sees that is really in front of us! Like that, the science of being is really complex. It is always a complex matter that will remain till life ends. Even there, when we talk about the ending of life; that too is metaphysics. Poem is a medium where in one can use a lot of freedom. You can put in your queries, doubts, and curiousness, anything into poems. So I believe, poetry is a strong medium to explain and explore the hidden horizons of metaphysics.

9] After writing a poem, what is the significance of the experience in the poem?
The completion of every poem gives me immense happiness. Be it a sad poem or a happy one, I feel greatly happy after writing it. I share it with my friends, take their reviews and try to improvise the poem if necessary. The happiness derived from you own creativity has lot of significance. Because, it’s something of your own. Maybe some thing like how a child is like to its mother.

10] Is poem an escape? From what?

No a poem is never an escape for me. It has always been a medium to let others know what I feel. When I write something, I always have a target in my mind. It maybe a person, the society or just the casual readers. I have never used poem as a means to escape from anything.

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Poems of Sree Devi Nair

2008-08-10T01:16:00.000-07:00

A fish sees Kerala coast

A fish was coming swimming
From the depths of the Arabian Sea.
It darts evading sharks and whales.

There is something shining
On its not-so-small head.
It exhibited the swimming talent
With or without moving its fins.

At times, it is static in the water
As if it thinks that
Thousands are waiting in the gallery
To watch its motions keenly.

The fish thought
The indefinable color
Within the water body
Is its own color.

Fish enjoyed swimming in colors.

Imagined there’s a foe
That didn’t exist at all.

Fish kept on moving like a fencer
Not knowing for sure
Where does the water go.

Fish got erotically attracted
To the swelling force
That moved into ocean depths.

Mating is only
The practical way.

In a state in which
Mind and body
Remained one,
Fish did not separate
Neither the motion
Nor the dream.

As it reached the coastal Kerala
It got enthralled.
But the fish saw other fishes
Getting nervous in the waters
Troubled by the shallow boats.

Watched out for the warning:
That no fish is safe.

Each fish was like
The one that tried to make room
To return home.

An undeclared warning
Of evacuation,
Sprouted as proclamation
In the deep waters.
The crucial question
Whether to have life
Or to have enjoyment,
Made the fish buckle.

It stopped its dance.
Said bye to colors.
Forgot the language
It knew well
That journeying into the nets
Is the final fate.

It understood,
Being the representative
Of those who didn’t have a place to go back,
That it follows the cowardice
And the surrender,
Are just the humble display
Of a bright future.

Prehistoric times in depth

We’re lazy to love human beings.
Even if the mountains move we never love.
We may feel love when one dies.
Where does that love come from?
Is it from inside the bone marrow?

Is it from the prehistoric times
Of the mind’s bottomless depth?
Is it from an old washed-away civilization?
Is it that we don’t know nothing about us?

We watch the one who lives and
The one who struggles to live,
Bathing him in despise.
Each one has shrunk into themselves
Failing miserably to tolerate
The very existence of human beings.

We give away suddenly a piece of virtue
To the dying one.
The one who dies do not take anything with him.
Our eyes are on
His selflessness.

How many centuries have to go
For us to learn how to love?

Emptiness

I came back to the mind’s forest of summer
From the shores of love.
I know now the real nature of this empty world
As the high summer heat of the mind.

We dream in vain that everything in the mind
Would fall in place in the list of our rights.

We’re dumb.
The organs inside the body
Do have a self-respect than us.
Only if there is a clear reason
Do they begin a conflict or a compromise.

But we spoil the needs
Without proper any reason.

How dumb we are,
Forgetting everything by
Smearing the debris of memories,
With sweet smells of love and songs!

Spring

Each woman carries
An egg of the Spring.
Even when there’s no man near,
Like Kunthi,
Should deliver a child
Loving Sun and Wind.
Which woman does not wish
To give birth to a Karnan?

Why not crave to become
The wife of Sun at least, for a moment?
Heard that Varunan and Agni are
Searching for virgins and good women.

As I near the old age
I wish to surrender the virgin in me
To Varunan and Agni to
Deliver and bring up their kids.

There is semen, in every women,
Of nature-gods.

To give birth,
And to raise kids,
It needs grit.

He won’t come

The days when he was expected
Were far far away.
He has not come yet.
The flowers kept for him
Have gone withered.
Words too have turned archaic.
Mind also got parched and scorched.

If ever he comes
Would this mind be enough?

Will he like
The tarnished face of mine?

There’s nothing in the body for him now.
I could give only
My charred mind and withered body,
The icons of the torrid times,
As a garland to him.

He won’t come.
If he comes or not
There’s nothing left.

Philosopher

My fate was to surrender.
Like the steps to success,
Tried in vain to count up
The steps to failure too.

While failing lamentably
I saw myself clearly.
I understood me.
Through my downfalls
I grew to a philosopher
In that way.

Elephant

The elephant, brought to the festival,
Didn’t catch musth.
There were women, men and kids
Thronged to see it going musth.

Seeing the human crowd
The elephant lost all its interest.
Thinking of the orgasm
Elephant raised its trunk
And wrote many things in the air.

The pundits did not understood a word of it.
The elephant then decided
That it’s in vain to enlighten the fools,
But listened to the beats of the drums
And cursed its own fate.

POEMS OF SREE DEVI NAIR

2008-08-08T02:23:00.000-07:00

Love is spooky
by Sreedevi Nair
A cohort said
Love’s spooky.
Love gave her
Only fear.

She was stubborn
While dreaming
Coitus and death
As she loved.

She’s afraid of the youth
Whom she loved to pamper
Even now.
She’s afraid of
The library
Where she would go
And sit with him.

She never touches
The books
Brought to him.
Those books
Instill fear in a special way.

There’s only
Fear along the paths
Trodden with him.
She deserted him
As she couldn’t stand the fear.

She thought of,
In each moment of love,
Sexual life and the ensuing
Child-birth.

She was afraid of
The gift she would give
To the lover or husband
In front of others.

It was Fear
That loved her.
No; she was loving
The Fear.
She couldn’t live
Without fear.
She would
Abandon anything for fear;
Even the life.

How sad we become

Life enters into another one
As shadows,
As veins, and
As memories.

A fleeting friendship
In a split second made,
Relationships and love affairs
Are but pieces of the soul,
The time magical enough.

Which finger-wizardry
Made us unite
In this Time itself?

In the shortest Time,
Amid the familiar kinship
We became endeared.
How sad we become
When we separate.

We believe
We’re eternal
In the fancy
That we were one
For ever.

As time changes
We become old stories.
The memories of others about us,
Like the spoiled, discarded vessels,
Are thrown away somewhere.

Quarrelsome Kitchen Vessels

The vessels in my Kitchen
Do talk many things:
About film,
About cooking,
About music, and
About dressing.

They are prejudiced
In certain things.
Sometimes do they quarrel,
In the name of differences,
And fall down
To commit suicide.

They have a mind
Of the geriatric
Who complain always.

However I show civility
By keeping them in order
They become jumpy.
The quarrel often
Ends up in clash
And in break ups.

Even when I go to sleep
They seldom sleep.
They clash in the night at 0ne
Or at two O’clock.
They drive away
The cat that comes to settle their issues.
What do these vessels do
Without batting an eye-lid in the night?

They remain in line,
And remain silent
As if making fun of me,
If they know that I am coming.

Even when they feel thirst,
They do not drink.
They do not take bath.
They smile at me,
Keeping their face shining,
By draining their own tears,
To keep me happy.

Whenever I go outside
They remain static.
They sit so
Till I come back.

I understood that,
To remain silent
Is an affair so heart-breaking,
By seeing my vessels.

Sea for Sale

When went to Kanyakumari
I did steal the sea I saw there
And brought it home.

A friend asked me:
What kind is this sea?
Sea of sorrow, vengeance, coitus?
Said I:
My sea, the sea
Of the woman in me.

Could you contain a woman at home?
Asked she again.

The woman at home is only partial,
The complete woman is somewhere else.
I brought the whole woman
Whom I saw.
It turned to be the sea
That’s all.

What would this woman sea do
That won’t fit in bedroom,
Pooja room or in the attic,
Or in the verandah,
Or in the mind?

Let’s sell it in the market!

Firefly

Waiting for a relative
Under the big lamp post
I rubbed the sleepy face, though,
The waiting continued.
But a firefly came, after the second-show,
Circled me twice, and asked why I’m there.
But I did not reply.

The firefly made fun of me,
For seeking refuge under
The big lamp,
Called me namesAnd flew

The wind

A wind that
Searched for life
Pushed me from behind
And escaped
Not showing its face.

The Clerk

I listen, to the film songs,
Sitting between hunger-death and fever.
Tried in vain to read the newspapers,
But read all the Ads
That came ‘free’ with it.

If you buy gold
Get a mobile free.
If you buy a computer
Its stand is free again.

News of hit-and-run deaths
Didn’t touch me at all.
Dropping the newspaper
I looked at the F M radio.

Since I need no news anymore,
Enjoyed Hindi songs
By changing the stations.

Nothing did attract my attention.
Neither the demo that went along the road
Nor the murder in the market
Did catch my eyes.
I waited for long
To be Five in the evening.

BOOKS OF SREE DEVI NAIR

email :Sreedevi Nair <sreedevinairtvm@gmail.com>

THE PAINTED FORMS

PRICE RS 50

LOVE GAVE HER ONLY FEAR

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PUBLISHED BY BLUEMANGO BOOKS

INTERVIEW WITH WINNIE J PANICKER

2008-08-06T00:51:00.000-07:00

INTERVIEW WITH WINNIE J PANICKER
BLUEMANGO BOOKS INTERNATIONAL BEST STUDENT POET AWARD WINNER

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Books
Love Gave Her Only Fear
Sreedevi Nair, the poetess, is a housewife hailing from the capital city of Kerala State. She has written a number of poems as a hobby but never published a single line in any current publications so far. Our editorial team has found that her works were full of excellent post-modernist style and highly reverberating with imageries of a typical Keralite housewife. Hence we published her first ever collection of poems "The Painted Forms" in English (See picture on right), earler. Now we have published her second collection of poems "Love Gave Her Only Fear". We hope the readers have welcomed her works.

Crusading in the Age of Amnesia
Sudhakaran Ramanthali, is a novelist in Malayalam literature. Here's is his first English version of the novel. He is settled in Bangalore and has written some good pieces of literary works. Crusading in the Age of Amnesia is his first ever novel of Sudhakaran Ramanthali that is translated into English from its native Malayalam version. The novel depicts the life of a factory-employee turned trade union leader who finds himself despised and ignored by the very same organization that has fostered him in the past. The novel is released just now.

Forthcoming books

We have 12 titles ready earmarked for publication. These works are from various streams of literature like Poetry, Novel, Drama, Essays, Travelogue and Literary Criticisms.
New forth coming books of Bluemango Books
The following new books are to be published soon.
Flowers on the Violin Collection of poems by Winnie J. Panicker
Poem Not Poetic Collection of poems by M. K. Harikumar
The Flowers Not Beautiful Poems by M. K. Harikumar
Paths of the Butterflies Novel by M. K. Harikumar
Parachiyilninnu Pandu Parasara Mahamuni. Essays of social justice and philosophy in Malayalam by K. Rajendran

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Straight Talk
Here is the interview we had with Winnie:-

When did you write your first poem?

I wrote my first poem when I was in my 7th grade. I came across the website www.poetry.com where you can write and send poems for competition. So, I wrote a poem on nature and humans. It was named “Melodies of Nature”.
Actually, my father came and told me one fine morning that there is a website called poetry.com and you can put poems there for competition. I don’t know, I just felt an interest then, and wrote the poem at that time. He encouraged me a lot to write afterwards. I had directly written that poem onto my PC and unfortunately it is now missing. Being brought up in Saudi, Malayalam was not at my sudden reach and I was more comfortable in writing in English and hence started off writing in English!
What is your poetic experience?

Once I started writing, I felt that expressing my ideas in a poetic way was what made me feel most comfortable. I write poetry when am either too happy or too sad. And after writing a poem, and penning down my feelings onto paper, I feel extremely happy and content. Sometimes I write poems when there is a gush of rage in me. I was once very upset and disturbed by the life of a woman in the Red streets which I happened to read in some magazine. And I found relief after writing the poem “Filthy Roads”.
If there is some topic that is disturbing me, it lays somewhere beneath me and I keep thinking about it unconsciously. And once I get the mood to write them down, I write it at a stretch and that really makes me feel delighted.
Do you think that any external reason to write poetry in these times? Some of my poems are the questions that I would like to ask the society. Poems like “Cursed Lives or blessed”, “Violence v/s Peace”, “Turbulence”, etc were written when I was doubtful about why innocent people had to lose their lives in war and terrorism. One can express his/her personal views that he or she would like the society to know. And I find the means to express them through poetry.
We have turbulent time and ample issues are there which could be expressed through a nice poem. Of late society is changing in such a way that negative ideas are getting accepted on the simple excuse that we are in the market economy and we should move with the times. But unhealthy tendencies are misleading the community especially the youth. I believe it is the moral duty of a person to point out and show the right direction so as to protect our heritage.

How do you differentiate your romantic mood and poetic ecstasy?

I have written few poems on Romance and Love. As I mentioned earlier, after writing a poem, I feel extremely delighted. After writing the poem “Silence” which was a monologue and an expression of unnoticed love, I felt some sort of fulfillment which I was searching since long and finally I wrote about my feelings and that made a big difference in my life.
Being in my teens now, I believe love is something God sent and it is the essence of life. Romantic mood and poetic ecstasy; both are different. Poetic ecstasy is something that I have experienced after writing anything that I really wanted to write for a long time. The love poems that I have written are surely out of the love that was lying within me. Maybe I really love or loved someone or rather have an imaginary character like that within me!!!
According to you what is poetry.I have always been obsessed with William Wordsworth’s famous saying “Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility”.
Poetry is my way of conveying the small ideologies which I have in mind to the person reading it. Poetry is my way of finding happiness within me. It is the most silent way of letting others knows what your feelings are.
Often, it is my way of expressing my love to my loved ones. Like, while giving birthday cards, or gifts, I try to put something of my own and that is usually in the form of poems. I try to find out what they will be happy at and try to make them happy through it. Poetry has always made me happy and I really enjoy writing them.

Are you associated with any particular words to discover your inner poems?

Old age, War, Love, Friendship etc are some topics which have struck me a lot. I try to write on the topics that somehow lie untouched beneath me. I was a child who was not brought up with grandparents. So, I never knew what their kind of love would be. So, a feeling of Loss that was there in me ever since my childhood has led me to write certain poems like “True Value”, “One day even you will be”, etc. Friends also play an important role in my poems. Poems like “All the time”, “Fragrances of Friendship”, “Miss you”, etc were written out of the love for my friends. Some words like ‘mesmerizing’, ‘damsel’, ‘sans’ etc frequently occur in my poems.
What is your political view? Basically I have a soft corner to the leftist government where in the common people’s needs are seen to. But now, money power is greatly increasing everywhere and sometimes I have felt that even the pro-poor government is forced to move with the crowd. Every human being is a political animal. I would like to have a political system where in every common man can live with contentment let it be communism or capitalism there must be an equation by which every citizen is assured of a basic decent living.
Are you a political woman? Every human being is a political animal. In that way, I am also a political woman. What is happening around is known to everybody. Politics should be selfless, because the people are electing their leaders and expect them to look after their needs. The younger generation should be able to follow them and lead the nation. Unless the leadership is clean and straightforward, administration will be corrupt. If people in power are corrupt in a small way, it will give a temptation for the administrative people to corrupt in a big way.
What is the future of human love? What is life sans love!? Love is of different types. There is love between a father and son, mother and daughter, a boy and a girl. Sometimes I feel the world has become very materialistic. Quarrels among family members over money and land are very common. There is no depth in their love and it feels all peripheral. Yet, there are some people who wish that real and true love existed. Humans should love one another and should be in a position to help another when it is needed. I do believe that “Life sans Love is Not life at all”

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Straight Talk
<<>
Is human love a sign of the sum total of goodness in the earth?

Sure, it is. If love did not exist in one form or the other, then there would be no story in living on earth. If there is some goodness in earth, it is out of human love. But, in the present scenario, this situation can be countered. The number of terrorisms and violent mentalities and war and atrocities that happen in the world will make people think whether the world is moving on the right path or not.

Apart from poetry, what are your other interests?

I love Photography. Freezing moments is something which gives me nostalgia and something to cherish. I click all the events that take place in my college and all the moments when I am with my friends. Sometimes, abstract ideas also give me interest in clicking photos. I write articles, film reviews, etc.
I often like taking strolls either alone or with my friends. I also have this habit of getting down one stop ahead of my home and walk down to my home. On the short distance back, keep thinking on some things. Sure, this is when there is very less traffic on the road!
Then when I was a hosteller, writing my personal diary was one of my hobbies. It was not just my personal diary. It was where I used to write everything that I feel. Then Watching films (mostly Indian) is another interest.

Why do you write poetry?

It is just my way of expressing myself. Sometimes I write it for personal satisfaction. Sometimes I write it to express my feelings and to let the world know about something that I want to share. Poetry has always been my medium of communication. It is my inner compulsion to put down what I feel like, or else I would feel very restless. It might be a message that I am trying to convey to somebody, be it a person, a community or anything. For example, the poem “Axe Across my heart” was a lament for the trees which ‘lost their lives’ recently in my neighborhood.

How long does it take you to write a poem?

I write at the instant I feel like doing it, but the topic, as I said earlier might have been brooding in my mind for quiet a long time. Once I start it takes me only around 10 minutes to complete a poem. Recently I have developed a liking to write short poems of about 4 lines only. And that takes me more time to complete!

How do you write your poems?

While writing some poems like “Flowers on the Violin”, “Black Opaqueness” etc, I used to collect points on what to write and then write it down. But most of my poems were just written at a moments thought or inspiration. Sometimes, I feel like writing while attending my Creative Writing classes. Once I felt an immense urge to write a poem while sir was explaining something about ‘dead love’ that is, love that is just existing for the sake of it. Recently, I witnessed the cutting down of trees at my neighborhood. I felt so hurt seeing the sight. Some atrocities shown to nature also make me write poems.

Where do you write your poems?

It depends on what material I have with me. If I am at class, I usually write it down in my notebook. My personal diary was once the place where I write my poems. Usually, I type it straight on to my PC.

Where do your ideas come from?

I was brought up in Saudi Arabia and there we hardly get exposure to literary and creative activities. But I was helped a lot by the literary association "Pallikoodam" I cannot forget the support they have given me. My school and college have also encouraged me a lot.
Ideas usually come from the surroundings. It can be news that I saw in paper, or something that I witnessed while going out. Sometimes they are my personal feelings. My friends also give me topics to write on. They have also helped me a lot by supplying me with topics. My parents have also encouraged me a lot in writing by giving me positive criticisms on my poems.
What part does music play in your poetry? Music is something that I enjoy a lot. I love melody and sometimes while hearing good music I write poems. The poem “All the Time” was written keeping in mind the tune of the English song “Show me the meaning of being lonely”.

What else do you like doing?

As I mentioned earlier, I like photography, reading(mostly English novels which include adventure also. Agatha Christie is my favourite detective author. When I was a kid I used to enjoy the Nancy Drew series! Then I like Jaishree Misra( writer of “Afterwards” and “Ancient Promises” and recently have developed a liking towards Jhumpa Lahiri(writer of “The Namesake” and “Interpreter on Maladies”) Among poets, I enjoy the poems of Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath, etc. I don’t memorize any of the poems that I read. Some poems touch my mind) I have an uncle who writes poems and I happened to read his book recently. In that he has taken the commonest of topics and expressed his views on them. Then, watching films, surfing, chatting, ‘blogging’( that’s one newly acquired hobby!) and yes!, Often day-dreaming!
What do you think about the poetic vision of future writing?You know these days we hear a lot that reading is dying, literature is dying, etc. but it is actually not so. One personal experience which I can mention is my visit to a book exhibition in town recently. There were lot of people there wanting to buy books. It made me think that if anything was dying, then this rush wouldn’t have been there. As long as human race exists in the world, writing will also exist. Maybe the form of writing and the ways of expressing things would change. But, writing will surely exist in one form or the other.
Reading is synonymous with human civilization. Ever since man started to inscribe things; reading also started and has been continuing without any stop. The pleasure and comfort that reading can generate, cannot be generated by any other media. Of course these days’ people are spending more time with digital media. Maybe, there is a trend towards that, but libraries are not without visitors and in a sense, literature is at an adventurous phase at this time because of the advancement in technology. With the growth of technology, literature is also been boosted up accordingly. Young talents have a lot of opportunity to publish their works and the media is very encouraging. The popularity of internet has made the availability of global literature at our finger tips. And I believe, writing has very high potential ahead and it would never die.
In the future writing, where is the place of tradition.Tradition is something that is knowingly or unknowingly followed. When a child is born, in the course of its growth, it takes along with it the tradition of his/her family and country. In whatever situation one might have been brought up in, I believe that a tinge of tradition and customs will remain intact in a person. As long as humanities, culture, arts and humans exist, the tradition will be followed. Imitations or difference in the leading of lives may happen. But that is one’s personal interest and there sure can be exceptions.
Keeping our tradition and the customs, we can add up to our lives the newer things happening around us. The world is advancing at a very fast pace and we ought to move along with it. No one should be backlogged and therefore, holding the tradition in our hearts, move along with the positive advancements! I was brought up in Saudi Arabia, and as you know it’s a country that holds a very strong religious background. The children of KSA are strong followers of the country’s tradition and yet are exposed to the new advancements of the world these days.
Charity begins at home. Education means to bring out that what is within an individual. So what we were taught at home will be what is reflected in us through our behavior. Tradition is carried forward generation after generation.
I also believe that the mixing up of different traditions in literature would bring more colorful results in the works that would come out in the future. It is just like cross-breeding!

read these links:http://english.ohmynews.com/articleview/article_view.asp?no=382671&rel_no=7

another link:http://conversationswithwriters.blogspot.com/

BLUEMANGO BOOKS AWARD

2008-03-04T18:28:00.000-08:00

BLUEMANGO BOOKS AWARD TO WINNIE J PANICKER.

NEWS.

MK HARIKUMAR IS THE CEO OF BLUEMANGO BOOKS.

www.mkharikumar.com

www.bluemangobooks.com

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Ms. Winnie Panicker presented with the Best Student Poet Award
The first ever Bluemango award for the best International Student Poet was presented to Ms. Winnie J.Panicker, by the Pro Vice Chancellor of Cochin University, Dr. N. D. Eanasu the other day at a function held at the University campus auditorium. The Advisory Board members Mr R Gopikrishnan and Smt. Sreekumari Ramachandran were also present in the awarding function held at Cochin University campus. Her collection of poems titled "Flowers on the Violin" won the prestigious award instituted by Bluemango Books for the first time in Kerala.
The Bluemango Books Best Student Poet Award consists of a cash prize of Rs. 100,000/-, a citation and a shield. There was no entries worth considering for the Best Student Short Story Writer Award this time. This award is instituted for motivating the student writers in English all over the world.
Her collection of poems "Flowers on the Violin" will be soon published by Bluemango Books. Another collection of her poems has already been published under the title "Loveliness of Dawn", before the new anthology has been submitted for considering the awards.
The editorial team of Bluemango Books picked out Winnie Panicker's collection of poems from about 200 works submitted for considering by students from all over the world. The award for the International Best Short Story Writer is still open for consideration. The last date to consider works for the said award will be 30th of March 2008