Seasons: Three poems by Anuradha Vijayakrishnan

Photo: Karan Madhok

‘One imagines the other in the empty place at the table, walking / through a blazing sunlit door / or leaving silently, melting into absence.’

Anuradha Vijayakrishnan

 

Seasons

 

Thulavarsham. This time of the year. Damp smell

between pages of books, fungus and velvet moss

on every rock. Lightning rivers.

 

Thulavarsham. Seasons demand stories, songs. Flood waters

climb hills, take possession of us. We concede

sinking deep into dimpled mud, believing in rebirth.

 

Thulavarsham. Graffiti on the wall that will wash

away soon.

 

The other

 

Two people meet and become the other

to each other.

 

One thinks of the other when rain peacock dances

on fallow skies, when a strange bird

flashes by, or someone laughs unseen.  When a bell

rings out suddenly

or waves repeat

what they said

in wise fading voices.

 

One imagines the other in the empty place at the table, walking

through a blazing sunlit door

or leaving silently, melting into absence.

Or watching from the window at midnight

like a ghost.

 

They are twice blessed for they have each other. Like light has

shadow and death has life.

How neem and banyan grow into each other, in forests far apart.

How desert follows sea. Each the other’s sanctuary.

 

*

 

Chandrakaaran Maanga

 

We have misplaced these fibrous yellow green

names

Stringy mess in the mouth, palm sized mango

worlds

sliding wholesome over tongue. One squeeze – that’s all

it took

to free juice, ease rough flesh into palms. Crushed

coarse

with fine wild chillies, mashed into hot rice

squished

into sour curd, sloshed gleefully down the throat while

summer

danced around jewelled patches of backyard

shade

slender green snakes dozed mildly on chipped

windowsills

someone turned on the radio to drown

an argument

maybe these are memory’s whimsical

tricks. Maybe

all this never was. As those gentle snakes

still sleeping

or that song ringing out down the road

 

***

Anuradha Vijayakrishnan is an Indian writer living in UAE. Her work has appeared in Kenyon Review, Magma, Everyday Poets, CVV2, The Lake and The Madras Courier, and was recently featured in the Yearbook of Indian poetry in English (2020). You can find her on Twitter: @AVijayakrish.

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