ಕಾಗೆ....

My Village…

Like words of Greek which force us to stammer,
Like proverbs that never fit into the situation proper,
Like Hi and bye that silence every conversation
Like language that escapes all communication
Strangely, a stranger ever forgotten, where, I was once born.

The benthic field of eroded rock, finely polished and cut,
The xeric land with smothered boulders that once swept
And decorated with motherly care like fruits in a market,
One above the other with a laborious task that was set.
A colour aberration needs a meaningful narration.

It is a roof under the shades of hell.
A dormant volcano, smoking still...
Below the mantle, a lovable nest,
Where sun god never rests,
A vast unending plateau expanse under the sky
Where only two seasons share,
Summer and severe summer..!!

And it is a hot furnace out there
in fact an urban idlers night mare
where rains have lost their way like a polar bear,

Ever-green canopies and rain are mysterious imagination                                                                 Rains are only songs of melody that are only heard often,
But, alas! Clouds are rarely seen and souls remained sunbathed,
Mere survival is an ever unreachable in this land that is cursed

The art is yet unfinished on its burning blue canvas,
The rusted and worn out brush has gone colourless,
The shrinking skeleton with numerous nails,
The life full of sorrows in its immortal search, fails
The hand of unseen,unknown are still swirling gales
The unheard sound, still vibrating in the echoes hills
The wordless voice piercing through the space                                                                                         The unexploded silence of the frozen emotions
The shameless, selfish unholy xeromorphic cactus,                                                                              Has denuded the mesic crown and canopy,

The screw pine orchard sleeping still in my village,
where an un-cleared pungent mass of piled up garbage,
Lie still in state of waiting for the municipal carriage.

The prop roots of banyan near the village goddess,
Rooted to the values of the that are never forgotten,
With blood smear from the sacrificed buffalo’s blood                                                                             Still wet and turning the soil to scarlet dust

The trees of acacia rooted to the thirsty red soil,
Are just fire woods to burn, but never an edible meal
Tease the hungry mouths that mocks the gastric line.

Lush tropical vegetation never seen, as cactus rules,
The roasted land like an emperor mad.
Monsoon defeated and surrendered
the joyous famine celebrates victory unconquered.

The floating and gliding winged seed of helicopter tree
Falling slowly to embrace its grave of gravity
Beneath, the Mother earth Creeps in to the cavity,
The wild dance of blinding light and melting heat,
An eternal reality, inferno, in the flaming plains,
commands the animate community to lose the sanity.

The greedy embryo growing fast, like Chinese bamboo shoot,
To take birth as fast as an ugly tongue protruding scary beast
Do we expect an evolutionary abortion abruptly?
Before, our one and only sun gets frozen permanently….???