ഹേ സഖീ,നീയവൻ വിളക്ക് മാടം!
ക്ഷണികമാമീയാഴിയിൽ
തുഴയാഴ്ത്തുവാനവന്
തുണയേകുന്ന പ്രണയസൗധം!!
വിടപറയും നേരം
കൈത്തലമുയർത്തിയവൾ മെല്ലെ,
മെല്ലെ വിടർത്തി മാനസം,
വിടചൊല്ലുന്നവനോട് നിറവേദനയോടെ!!
അറിയണം നീയവളുടെ ജീവിതചുറ്റുവട്ടങ്ങൾ,
അറിയണം ആ ജീവിത സമരസപ്പെടലുകൾ!
അതിജീവനാഭ്യാസങ്ങൾ!
കടുംകെട്ടായി തുടരുന്ന ബന്ധങ്ങളും !
സ്നേഹം വിടർത്തുന്ന പൂക്കളാവുക നിങ്ങൾ,
ആർദ്രതയേകുന്ന കാഴ്ചയാവുക!
കണ്ണീരൊപ്പുവാൻ പരസ്പരം മത്സരിക്കും കൂട്ടരാവുക!
വിടർന്നകലാതെയെന്നും തുടരുന്ന ജന്മങ്ങളാവുക!
ഓരോ മിടിപ്പുമങ്ങനെ ഹിതാനുസൃതമന്യോന്യമേറ്റുവാങ്ങുക!!
Playing like a child, the moon giggles, Crawling like an ant on a mission, the moon reaches the gloomy coconut trees. Pretending as asleep like a lazy dog, the trees act, Lying on the blue skies like a cloud, the trees practice silence.
Touching with eagerness like a menacing kitten, The moon pulled the leaves of the lazy trees, Reacting like a thief who was caught red-handed, The coconut trees woke up laughing with the moon.
Lifting the moon like a toddler, The coconut trees played hide and seek with the moon, Holding the moon on their shoulders like a hero, The coconut trees and the moon posed for a selfie.
This magical wall attracts me like never before,
Undressing the dreamy child in me,
The magical wall smiles at me,
Invoking millions of colourful memories in me.
This magical wall excites me like never before,
Whistling at me like my menacing childhood friend,
The magical wall hugs me to my delight,
Pulling me to its scintillating beauty.
This magical wall makes me crave for my childhood,
Narrating its own story in lyrical style,
The magical wall touches my heart poetically,
Syncing like a rainbow of silent paintings and talkative poems.
This magical wall amazes me about its soulful tree,
Treasuring countless memories of photographs,
The magical wall holds the fallen leaves close to its heart,
Making the birds and the child in me to fly…
Have you ever entered into the world of ‘Creative‘ people? Have you ever thought how these creative people think? Well, I’ll take you for a walk into the world of creative people…
STATUTORY WARNING: This is not for those lazy bums who don’t enjoy and appreciate fun, madness and creativity. This is also not for those serious faces who don’t enjoy nature. This is also not for those people who follow the herd blindly.
If you have the patience and sensibility to think like a human being, then read on….
‘Creativity’ is a special talent or skill through which something new, unique and refreshing is created. It’s not blind copying but an art of creating something that is worth enough to talk about!
An enchanting music or song, a haunting poem or painting, a unique photo, a reverberating speech or idea, or anything unique is a wonderful creation by the rare breed called creative minds. These creative minds need a fuel, mood, or an environment to trigger creativity. The catalyst for these creative minds is sheer ‘Madness‘.
Creative people love madness. They love to explore the unknown horizons that others fear to attempt. They break the conventional rules and they are unorthodox. A fluid called ‘Madness‘ runs through their veins to make them different from others.
Creative people view a crazy world through ‘Madness‘. They are able to think out-of-the-box and create magic through their works.
Here are a few quotes about madness and creativity:
“No great mind has ever existed without a touch of madness.” ― Aristotle
“Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.” ― William Shakespeare, Hamlet
“The creative person is both more primitive and more cultivated, more destructive, a lot madder and a lot saner, than the average person.” — Frank Barron
“It is only through mystery and madness that the soul is revealed” ― Thomas Moore
“Madness is the acme of intelligence.” – Naguib Mahfouz
“Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be break-through.” — R. D. Laing
“If at first the idea is not totally absurd then there is no hope for it.” — Albert Einstein
“The extreme limit of wisdom–that is what the public calls madness.” — Jean Cocteau
“A person needs a little madness, or else they never dare cut the rope and be free.” — Nikos Kazantzakis
“Madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.” — The Joker — The Dark Knight
This is the sheer brilliance of madness – it makes an ordinary person ‘Creative‘.
Gathering the chunks of time together from the ground,
Placing the broken chunks on our hands,
Sighed we! Just then,
Blew the villainous wind over the pieces of time,
The fallen victims were the time, you and me,
As the time drifted away from us..
Lying down scattered in distant corners were the time, you and me,
Searching for the broken chunks of time were you and me,
Cried we! Just then,
Struck the cold-blooded lightning on the battered pieces of time,
Broken were the time, you and me,
As the time drifted away from us…
Misery can’t be this worse,
Holding her hands with a feeble touch,
Waiting to hear her trembling voice,
Wiping her tears with no hope of a sunrise,
Waiting to hear her final words,
We saw her taking her last breath,
Left she with those unsaid words…
I envisioned a childish dream,
Paper boat wading through rivers,
Menacing breeze moving the paper boat forward,
Ripples portraying rainbows in front of the paper boat,
Butterflies flying on top of the rainbows,
Small fishes jumping through the dreamy rainbows,
Magic taking shape as the paper boat sailed with butterflies and rainbows…
Lying and looking at the rainy clouds,
The night was hearing the echoes of silence,
Hiding behind the gloomy clouds,
The moon was playing hide-and-seek.
Passing though the moistened trees,
The breeze came caressing the lonely night,
Looking at the skies devoid of the moonlight,
The silent night was singing with the lingering breeze.
Reaching the ears was the rhythmic sound of raindrops, That awakens the sleeping minds, Getting into the groove of percussion, The rhythmic rain sprinkles life to the greenery.
The tree turned an artist surprisingly,
Asking the shy sky to emote,
She, the sky, lowered her eyelids shyly,
As the waiting tree sketched the shy sky.
Slowing down my foot steps, Positioning myself against a metallic rod, I was following him, my twin – shadow, I was watching him closely like never before, I was going to capture him with my camera, While he was blindly imitating me.
He, my twin – shadow, stood there in front of me, Lights falling on me during the night made him darker, I smiled so that I could make him smile for the photo, Only then I knew, he, my twin – shadow, could never smile, While he was blindly imitating me.
I captured his unassuming posture, Into the photo album of time, He, my twin – shadow, wasn’t smiling, Although, I stood there smiling at my twin – shadow, While he was blindly imitating me.
Passion, the burning desire the heart craves for, Passion, the ultimate happiness the heart enjoys, Passion, the utmost dedication the heart gives for, Passion, the tiresome efforts the heart delivers for, Passion, the artistic recognition the heart hopes for, Passion, the unmaterialistic love the heart lives for, Passion, the raw emotions that invoke life to the heart, Passion, the unending reason that the heart could die for….
I resemble the doped wind, Clueless about my direction, I waver like the doped wind, Wobbling my thoughts randomly.
I laugh madly like the drunken wind, Visualizing the dual dazed worlds, I dance like the drunken wind, With my own foolish dance moves.
I blink my eyes like the doped wind, Looking at the full moon in awe, I open my lips shakily like the drunken wind, Talking to the alluring full moon unknowingly.
Penning these words for my mystery lady, Remembering the day one I saw you here, Standing silently beside me like a stranger, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Thinking about something that I never knew, Pretending as if you never looked at me, Giving me no clue, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Seeing my mystery lady after three months, Feeling a burst of newborn emotions, Telling myself that the lady is special, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Meeting my mystery lady face to face, Blocking her way unknowingly, Looking at each others’ eyes, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Moving in opposite directions, Pausing for a matter of purpose, Turning and looking behind at each other simultaneously, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Seeing my mystery lady after a week, Walking past her quickly, Overtaking her intentionally, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Waiting for my mystery lady at the same place, Wearing contrasting colors of attire, Looking at each others’ eyes passionately, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Penning these words for my mystery lady, Watching you again like the day one I saw you here, Standing silently beside me like my love, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Penning these words for my mystery lady, Remembering the day one I saw you here, Standing behind me like a stranger, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Thinking about something that I never knew, Pretending as if you never looked at me, Giving me no clue, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Seeing my mystery lady after three months, Feeling a burst of newborn emotions, Telling myself that the lady is special, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Meeting my mystery lady face to face, Blocking her way unknowingly, Looking at each others’ eyes, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Moving in opposite directions, Pausing for a matter of purpose, Turning and looking behind at each other simultaneously, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Seeing my mystery lady after a week, Walking past her quickly, Overtaking her intentionally, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Waiting for my mystery lady at the same place, Wearing contrasting colors of attire, Looking at each others’ eyes passionately, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
Penning these words for my mystery lady, Watching you again like the day one I saw you here, Standing behind me like my love, Knowing nothing about the next moment.
I never thought that I will become a writer in my life. I never even thought about that. But there were some glimpses of my writing skills that I discovered in my college days. But one moment changed everything that I knew about myself.
I wrote my first poem when I was 11 years old about “Sun”. And that was the only poem I wrote in the next eight years. After that I never wrote something like that until I fell in love.
I started to write poems based only on love. In my college days, I used to write leave letters, permission letters etc. for my classmates because they thought that I was good in writing. Despite studying Bachelor of Engineering, I found more affinity to English and writing. But one truth is that I never read books on literature, poems or novels. Yet still I loved writing.
Love triggered my writing skills. And my best poems were based on love.
I used to write many poems and give it to my love. She would read it and she used to smile. I loved doing that.
It was during this time that I started to create short poems, type them as SMS texts and send it to my friends as forward messages. Forward SMSes were a craze with youngsters about a few years ago. I used to type some code words as an identification of the SMSes that I created. I used to receive those forward messages that I created back to my inbox itself. I still get few of those messages as SMSes even after so many years. It was a good feeling to see that people are liking my poems and creations.
One day, one of my short poem was read in a regional FM Radio channel as the best forward message of the day.
One fine evening, I was listening to the FM Channel, Radio City in 2006. The RJ read, “Here is the best forward message of the day“. And that was my poem that was being read live on air. I felt very happy to hear that. Fortunately, I was listening to the radio station. On that day, I understood that people have started to read and like my poems. It was on that day I decided that I will become a writer someday.
There was my English lecturer who used to encourage me to write more. Through the reference of my teacher and the Head of the Department of English, I got an offer to publish my poems as a book through a local publisher. I was asked to pay 25,000 INR for publishing it. At that time I thought I must not publish my poems as I didn’t have the maturity or mindset of a complete writer. The money was also a constraint. I felt bad for rejecting that offer. But now I feel that what I did was the right thing. I kept learning and wrote more to become a writer. Still I’m learning how to write better.
There was another friend who always supported and encouraged me to write more. That friend was the main inspirational force because of whom I’m a better writer now. I kept writing more and more. My dream was to have my own blogging website. Initially, several friends ridiculed me and never believed what I said. I said to them that one day I will have my own website for showcasing my poems, short stories etc.
Lying down on the bed, With the eyes half closed, Entering through the window, With the room in darkness, Touched the light of faith, To open the heart and eyes.
Listening to the heartbeats of faith, The heart felt the music flowing, Through the veins of love, To reach the eyes of the faith, Creating magic in the search of eternity.
Witnessing the magic of eternity, The heart accepted the eternal truth. Listening to the heartbeats of heart, The faith felt the music flowing, Through the veins of love, To reach the eyes of the heart, Igniting the warmth of true love and kiss.
The voice that widened the eyes once,
Lost its enduring charisma,
The voice that elated the heart once,
Lost its touch of intimacy,
The charismatic voice turned into a dampened voice…
It sounds so easy to read the above line. Sounds so easy! But at times, it is the most difficult thing to do.
To let the moment to pass. When you have no control of your thoughts and heart, it is not so easy to let this moment pass by. But you have to let the moment pass by as there is no other go.
It is like tying your legs to a tree and asking you to run,
It is like tying your thoughts to a tree and asking you think,
It is like tying your emotions to a tree and asking you to react,
It is like tying your words to a tree and asking you to speak.
Burning the dreamy shadows of illusion that drew the smokey eyes. Shedding the moistened leaves of illusion that deceived the fading greenery. Frozen by an illusion.
Attenuating the deafening voices of illusion that disguised the lifting melody. Vaporizing the hypnotic rain of illusion that cozened the melting rainbows. Frozen by an illusion.
Trying to describe the moment of despair felt by two people, Living in two different corners of the world, Trying to describe the silence between the two people, Carrying the burden of shattered memories, Those unsaid words, those broken words…
Trying to visualize the meeting between two people, Looking into their eyes for one last time, Trying to feel the emotions communicated between the two people, Holding their hands for one last time, Those final words, those broken words…