Aathmaanaam: Translations from Heaven and Hell

Kiss     Give a kiss In a furore when you are moving ahead Your girlfriend comes Without any hesitation hold her in a tight hug and give a long continuous soothing kiss Seeing you let the others too kiss their girl friends Kiss is a symbol of freedom After you give a kiss you forget and fuse At the bus stop under the train in the library amidst the crowded parks inside the shopping malls with shrunken homes and the blown-up city's bustling streets kissing is the only way Do not let go a kiss to convey your love to convey your adventure to prove your existence in the available few seconds any other better device than a kiss is hard to find Start your kissing affair today now this moment Come on quick your next lady love is waiting keep advancing Two thousand years after the birth of Christ we are moving towards the twenty first century Eliminating all the obscene body movements cleanly kiss kiss with a kiss and start the kiss...

The Lake A newly formed lake was waiting for me The sharply edged grass laying disorderly guarded the lake on it's playful ends The Sky was working on it's facial makeup with great care Part of the grass wandered here and there like weaver birds A few clay blocks that did not become bricks were watching the traffic of the trains Don't know why only I was writing a poem Foot Note: Yeah ... Good Question ... Why do we write poetry? And what match is it for those other elements of life and nature ...

The Little princess has come She spreads the clips from the box Catches the dirt on the wall as she would catch a fly She sees the cuckoo newly everyday She shouts in the crowd of people Stairs are her world Whoever she sees are her friends She doesn't have anything to cry for except when hungry She is a happiness that brims within herself Every moment is a continuation of joy When called by name she will turn around Her penetrating sight will infiltrate you and will go beyond Foot Note : Another mischievous poem about the little princess

I am I From the branches of the drumstick tree leaves fall life goes on Painter of the sky in blue Sculptor of the cloud structures Presenter of the scenic trees Provider of the white foam to the sea Sand, Mountain, Worm, and Insect It's me It's me It's me Foot Note : Who am I? I am God. I am a creator and hence I am God.

Write   I did not say how to write Nothing unfavorable happens in your lines The silent Buddhas wandering the wastelands let this world to be in ruins and go with the flow of time overlooking everything Not even the distant echo of  the groans of the guy squashed by this rock world is heard The sound of the words die within them Write for at-least the sound of friction of the pen tip on paper be heard Foot Note : Express yourself

The sound aroused Sound has arisen from the sea from the beetle from the carelessly cut fields from the painting and finally from a word Peace began to deteriorate From the clutches of the sound it started running and hiding Sound that did not let silence to be seen faded with a loud shout Silence formed Silence everywhere Fearing silence the world started shouting Sound and Silence started their rule in turns After some time sound and silence began to get used to co-exist became inseparable ones At the rim of the sound stretch silence began it's penance for peace Foot Note: The Sound of Silence

2083 August 11 I found one of my poems in the year 2083 by the seashore Me and Gnanakoothan were in conversation When we opened the chickpeas wrapped paper There were these words A line on the paper Aathmaanaam Wondering I asked Gnanakoothan Are we still here To which he replied From the heap of baked bricks a single stone slips How strange is this to be in the same place I said Where is Nakulan I asked He died the next day after Naveenan died said Gnanakoothan What's your recent poem I asked A B C D E F G he said I thanked him At that point we heard the blast of a nuclear bomb We both returned to our refugee camp Foot Note : Asimov meets Aathmaanaam ...