Shankaran Kutty Poems

(This was return after I had a horrible accident a few months ago. My car was totally damaged and had to be sent as junk. But I emerged without a scratch. The one above decided that my duties on earth are not over, yet. There is no other explanation for why I survived)

The wind whistled a soulful tune
An elegy or a mournful number
...

Daddy, this morning I woke up with a start
A bad ream I had, with you I did part
I cried a lot for the one I love the most
I couldn’t find, You, I had lost
...

(A Lullaby written 12 years too late, my younger one is now 12 years old! !)

Hush, the wind that blows in from the East
Hush, the birds that flock in to feast
...

(Today, my entire neighbourhood in office, went for a team outing. So I was practically alone. Went down alone for a cup of tea… While having tea alone, saw a young girl – 20-23, on the phone. Could see that her face was sad. I couldn’t hear her because she was at the corner and it being a basement, not very well lit. She stood frozen, oblivious of her surroundings. Slowly her face turned sadder and sadder. Then tears filled her eyes and when it starting flowing down, not even aware of it, she continued to speak. I wondered what would have made her so sad, but that progressive increase in her sorrow and the change in her expressions still remain etched. I couldn’t help her, I knew, so all I could do was to express my anguish and support through a poem)

Why do you stand in a corner and weep
Shun your memories, do not them keep
...

(My attempt at translating a song, actually a poem, from a film in my local language - Malayalam. The movie name is Spirit and the poet is Rafique Ahmed)

When death comes knocking at the door
I want you my dear, by my side
...

Those days when I was a little child
Leading life so fast and wild
When a ton of books I would pack
To carry to school and evening back
...

Alone she sat in the battlefield
Her husband’s head in her lap
At sixteen, a mere trifle of a boy he was
His face serene as in a nap
...

It happened forty five years ago
In a small little hospital it was touch and go
The doctor said it is either mother or child
The tension on the near ones piled
...

(“The Kargil war is an undeniable proud moment of Indian history. But this act I describe here is a fictitious one. there were many like the hero of this poem, who made that victory possible.”)

He was a young and sprightly and bonny little lad
He was the best, my brigade ever had
...

(For all those people good souls who are used and then dumped by the wayside.)

She is an ingredient of all
Curries, she is added for taste
...