Thursday, August 13, 2009

Vembanad Love

That old banjo, serene;
the strumming, in sync with life.
An old song, the ringing bells;
those nights, the carpet and the shivers.
The lazy afternoon flow, drowned
- in ideals, a dreamer, the serious trio;
then the plunges to your moist depths;
Vembanad, the secret love.

Was younger then, no wiser now;
the wild days, adorable brute.
I could hunt though very blunt,
life called and I turned my back.
Swimming, then drowning in bliss, oh youth;
my simple mind, where's the toddy pot?
Papa, this is where I'd make love to her,
Vembanad, the Lady in Blue.

Slow, the music fades,
No, let it be, let me sway.
I kissed didn't I, that summer night;
I danced didn't I, that monsoon hit.
Nay my love was pure and soft,
never lust, I saw your soul.
That is why I made love to you,
Vembanad, the lovely bride.
(Looking back to the days spent on the shores of
Vembanad Lake in Alappuzha, Kerala)

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