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

Combat 

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!

***

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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.

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Setu, June 2021