Geetha Ravichandran: Poetry (Voices Within 2021)

Geetha Ravichandran is a bureaucrat who lives in Mumbai. Writing is what she most enjoys doing. Her contemplative articles and poems have been published in various journals including Reading Hour and Borderless. Two of her poems have been included in anthologies recently published by Hawakal.

Love over a plate of Upma

I remember how these

colourless, odorless granules

that turned up at the table, 

after a hard day’s work 

provoked even that mousy man. 

This offence to the palate,

sent plates crashing.

Doors slammed shut 

and reverberated across walls.

That memory of violence

has remained like a scab.

So, as you watched over

the mustard sputter

and the chilies sizzle

I waited in apprehension.

You served up a scoop

with a flourish 

that said this is special.

Never, could I imagine that 

heady flavours would waft

from a plate of Upma, 

It’s like when the night-queen

wraps her fragrance 

on a coarse, ragged bark

on a cool and velvet night.

Fragrant, vibrant endings

A tiny flower fallen from a string of jasmines

that adorned a hasty woman’s disheveled hair

lies on the floor of the lift.

Even as heels carelessly step on its petals

a scent rises- slow, subtle,

whiteness melds in the harsh cubicle light.

A bee has entered 

the bathroom through the vent

that lets out odours.

It buzzes fiercely 

around the tungsten filament

and stops, as if to listen

as the water fills the bucket.

It rests its rear on the mirror

scratching its head

and crumbles into a ponderous silence.

 They had waited to greet me-

 accidentally

 a full-bodied fragrance, 

 a vibrant hum,

 moments before they seamlessly 

 slipped into non-being.

Evening

 

 It's the trees that darken first,

 give up the green light

 and stretch their silhouettes

while the sky holds on to its patches of grey

 and streaks of peach.

Amidst the maze of branches and dancing leaves

 a mild and timid light lingers

 and streams to the ground.

 A crow perched at a strategic vantage point

 rolls its eyes, 

 probably, at what happened through the day.

 Headlights flood the dim-lit clogged street

 and trolls who will not let in any light,

 nudge and honk their way home.

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Life, Cognition and Creativity 2021 :: Setu, January 2021