On a Vijayadashami day,

The evangelical angels,

With one focus in their minds,

Drive the festival of light

Into the darkest corners of the mind,

Not realizing that light was born just for this. 

Cornered now, it's back against

The darkened panes of rudimentary thought,

Rubs off the soot of intolerance

As darkness and the angels disappear.

The light now hugs the fleeing mind,

And together, glued like in a dancing flame,

Skids through life's polished floor,

Mirror-finished like a ceramic coat,

Where you can see the complete life of

The virgin queen of purity

Give birth to a bird that recites poems

And sings songs of love.

 

The blast of country bombs,

Lit in glee by my neighbors' children,

Were made to chase animals

From the forest they once roamed free,

But now, devoid of the shola trees,

Look like the face of the teen after the first shave.

Some patches of the bleed

Stopped by toilet paper.

Almost a south-to-north transition.                                                

 

The manicured tea plantations 

Undulate, close-cut Afro hair,

In fashion, not

The dreadlock that was once preferred.

 

The rocket lit by the retired

ISRO scientist goes up

With a sequence not in any

Ascending or descending order.

The mild drizzle plays with the gunpowder,

Disappointing the young

As the octogenarians look at the heavens

In thankful prayer.

 

Another Diwali passes by,

I mark my calendar

And sip my Yamazaki 18-year-old.

It’s good to be alive.

 

A Poem by Shaji Nair

 

The Morning After

 

Now our smiles and hugs,

And desperate kisses,

Always remind me

Of the morning after.

When lovers, their nakedness

Now bare in the harsh light of day,

Feel the warmth between them slip away.

How did all the words of love—

The promises, the yearnings of our hearts,

Whispered between kisses—

Vanish like whispers lost to the wind?

The beauty of blossoms lies in their fall,

Withering softly as I spend my life

Searching for the bloom that never fades.

 

— A poem by Shaji Nair