Geethu V Nandakumar: Figures of Thought: Collegiate Voices across Spaces


Hush! For its anarchy that persists everywhere.
"Your voice is not to be heard anywhere, nor anyone" uttered my Self.
Death knells constantly resonate my ears
while screamings and bloodsheds paralyze my senses.
How long shall I exist in this bolthole?
For I can feel the fear crawling in through my veins,
looming around my bowels.
My limbs are numbed;I could feel it.
Everywhere, I hear people greeting each other with futile words
And deceptive smiles welcoming me.
You are not safe! My mind enchanted.
Weary eyes blurred my sight
draining up the whole body.
Big Ben alarms! it's needles are active.
Minutes turn out into hours; 
Days end up being nights;
seasons wither away;
hearts witness despair,
while  its colours turn grey.
But you see, I could sense a sort of courage;
A drug it seems, that hikes 
my adrenaline rush.
And now, there was a halt
for my ruthless thoughts;
Liberated I am, with the aura
of freedom purifying my soul.
Hope returns with the shower of a rain
that sprout the seeds of new life.
Bliss! For it's rejuvenation everywhere!
Ultimately, when the shades of yellow 
crowded the sky, peace was retained;
for it was a warfare that ended-
A deadly combat between the Self 
and the Other...!!!!

A Tiny Dot

Picking up the side seat of a bus
I seated myself and cursed the unceasing call of hunger.
It was past one and
the scorching sun almost blinded my dreary eyes.
Earth was a cauldron of burning coal.
In a trice, my wavering eyes caught the sight of a frail body on the dusty pavement.
An enervated woman she was,
with her pale eyes 
having a million trove of silenced tales;
concealed and half-dead, like
the cold, stale chapathi in her dessicated hands.
Picking out the last fallen pieces lying on the ground,
her fatigued fingers placed its last piece
into her shrunken lips.
People went and passed by;
Her body becoming a site of their wicked gazes.
For her it resembled wolves of passion that she is not foreign to.
Hence, she felt nothing,
but a usual cold of numbness.
For some,A tiny dot she was,
In the quotidian routine of their lives;
Visible yet pointless.
Her burning wounds hold fathomless mysteries of pain;
years of humiliation 
have made far-flung roots all over her body.
Some called her a streetwalker;
A fallen woman!
Her eyes told, a little darker gray it felt for her under the dark dim red lights
with the clumping of dreary faces
that awaits her.
At times, Awaiting, resembled hunger- 
the growling call of bellies,
the excruciating pain of toil
the never ending stories of helplessness;
While at other times, 
they are the shadows of unspoken desire masked in civilized faces.
May be it would be true.
She was a fallen woman;
but ruined and deceived by a fallen society!

Author's Bio:  A lover of words, poetry and fiction, Geethu V Nandakumar is from Kerala, India, currently pursuing her post-graduation in English Language and Literature. Through her realistic  portrayal of unrefined emotions and harsh realities of human life, her poetic journey takes flight to the world of hope and liberation. An ardent observer of human life, she writes poems to surpass nothingness.

1 comment :

  1. Some lines and phrases in 'A tiny dot' are very artistically done & in them the emotion is all too evident!


We welcome your comments related to the article and the topic being discussed. We expect the comments to be courteous, and respectful of the author and other commenters. Setu reserves the right to moderate, remove or reject comments that contain foul language, insult, hatred, personal information or indicate bad intention. The views expressed in comments reflect those of the commenter, not the official views of the Setu editorial board. प्रकाशित रचना से सम्बंधित शालीन सम्वाद का स्वागत है।