Iver madham34 Venkataramani
The only son of late Suppramani Iyer-
-crorepathy, scholar extraordinary-
and the sole heir to these paddy fields
cocunut groves shopping malls
the wastelands where gypsies pitch tent
and the punna35 trees the crows return to at dusk.

The river we cross the rail on the other shore
the train we board the town we reach
the house we live in the cot we sleep on
the mosquito net that covers us and
the holes in it-all his.
Nothing that is not his
not even that wriggly worm
inside the blue olor36 mango that we haggle for
with the street vendor.

On a mid noon the sun had prepared
garnishing the earth with chillies and mustard.
Ate meals with ghee and dal
sat on the swing carved out of dark red wood
in the teak plank paved balcony
saw Tyagaraja kirtanas37sculpted on sound
and rendered in different time-scales
jerked off to the adi-tala38 of the house maid         
Parukkutty
and went out through the avenues where
the shades of arya-vep39 render dravida-meters
in the Palakkadan40 breeze.

Reached the crossroad and entered the barbershop
where beauty queens jostle with pictures of hell
sat on the revolving chair covered in white
closed the eyes and imagined the earth revolving
on the other axis round the sun.

Had the tuff41 cut off
and saw the strands of hair falling                                              
reminding of the cut-off umbilical cord.
Crossed the river the rail and the sea
and flew away.

Wandered in the city where iron rods are kept fried after being dipped in cement
like pokkavada42 inside the glass case
in one-handed Muthaliar’s tea shop

during market days in Vaniyamkulam43.

Made it a habit to smoke cigarettes
drink reddish liquor and taste beef                                                            
learned to speak English dance drive a car and practised twirling the world on one’s fingertip
and to appear simultaneously in Tokyo Berlin
and New York.

Now, once in a while he comes to my place in    
secrecy
enters the house without breaking it open
or forcing its lock
and steals one by one things dear to us.

And relishes burning them at the never extinguished  burial mound                                             
in the madham.