Alexander Raju

What left with me of my father
Is his last smile, a funny one!
It flashes intermittently
Into the core of my tiresome life,
...

THE TERMITES
The termites or the white ants,
Who're supposed to eat the dead,
Must be killed mercilessly,
...

It's not just for fishing
That you go for fishing!

Your dire need to survive
...

I hate those who look back,
Who feel proud of their past,
Who live in yesteryears
Being dissatisfied
...

Funny is our democracy
That honours brute majority!
And nobody bothered about
The right of the individual
...

Warren Zevon, the rock singer,
Was diagnosed of incurable cancer,
Sang lastly, ‘Keep me in your heart! '
And tried to explore grief through art.
...

Forget not the way you passed, say sages,
But I hate those childhood days, and I try
To ignore them, not in my recklessness,
Did it purposely, and no more regrets.
...

By Alexander Raju

If death's inevitable, die at the right time,
While people retain you dear to their hearts;
...

Every perception sows
A primordial seed
In mind's fertile soil
To begin its germination,
...

The criminals of the day
With a glee in their eyes say:
Don't regret about our past
That's gone forever,
...

Life is a banana leaf
That moves gently in the breeze
And stands flexible
Against the storm,
...

Towards me a wheel-chair crawled slow
with the skeleton of a man,
the leftover of a noble life.
...

Eureka! I found out the truth at last:
It's just fate that controls our earthly life;
Belief in god, in deathless human soul,
Inpleasant heaven and horrible hell,
...

Death of the Sea

It's an evening, for the sea
And for the vast human sea
...

Once I saw a highland shepherd travel,
Hill to hill and vale to valley,
Sleeping sometimes in some hovel,
With his precious lovely sheep in rally.
...

Some time at night I asked my wife,
‘Tell me, what's the time now? '
She murmured something in her sleep
Like the cooing of a pigeon.
...

Towards me a wheel-chair crawled slow
with the skeleton of a man,
the leftover of a noble life.
...

After all these days of busy human life
Of hectic earnings and tiresome miseries
What's left on earth as ultimate profit,
In the final balance sheet of history?
...

She was an old woman,
perhaps, in her ninety's,
with thousands of wrinkles,
on her ancient face,
...

(Men and bits of paper - T.S. Eliot)
I belong to the so-called Diaspora,
That I wait a year to see my own tongue
Freshly printed on our dear newspaper;
...