Speechless Thoughts
By Sruthi Ramaraju
*****
Copyright © 2013 Sruthi Ramaraju
Cover illustration derived from iStockPhoto
*****
Table of Contents
1. The Start of Life…
2. Poisoned Riders
3. The Fabled Halls
4. A Room With The View
5. Sapphire Among Rubies
6. If I was…
7. My Berry Bush
8. They Are Sitting
9. Melting Crystals
10. A Walk in Your Shoes
11. Our First Bow
12. The Most Beautiful Place
13. Reminiscence
14. The Night Canvas
15. Stolen Childhood
16. A Battle In The Heavens
17. The Time Librarian
18. Wintertime
19. Steel-walled Girl
20. Recognition
Acknowledgements
1. The Start of Life…
When I thought my life began,
There was nothing but a barren desert of red,
Save endless pillars of leathery skin,
And a prison of no escape: my home.
But even behind the bars, I felt her presence.
Bearing my weight, humming me songs,
Warming my frantic heart in the cold.
For nine months I bore the pain,
Filling the cramped room with inflated limbs,
And I squirmed and kicked,
And longed for freedom.
And between my moans I heard her voice,
Her humming which had never ceased.
And I felt her unreasonable longing,
Her desperate love for me,
Despite not knowing who I really was.
When at last my patience waned,
And my stay had rocketed from,
The boundaries of agony,
I felt her agitation, and knew her heart beat with mine,
Sharing all the pain.
But still I waited until—
I felt a harsh push,
And out I tumbled into a
Vortex of empty sounds.
But within the din I heard her voice,
And felt consoled by her hum of unintelligible tunes.
I spent my days admiring her face,
Her long lashes, her gentle eyes,
Her laughing mouth, her full cheeks.
I clung to her slender waist, and felt the scar,
Where the gateway of my prison was sealed.
I was lifted in her soft arms,
And I loosened my grip: I knew I wouldn’t fall.
She twirled me round, and sang me songs,
Fed me from her affectionate heart.
It was then that I fully realized that,
This was when my life had really begun.
When the light retreated, and darkness took hold,
I cried and shivered, but her hands were always near,
Keeping me safe, keeping me happy.
She taught me the world,
Explained the good, explained the bad.
But soon, in a gradual cycle of nature,
I grew farther and farther away from her,
As I was attracted to the world she expressed so much,
To the other people, other fancies.
And the days I cherished so much,
Faded.
And once when I briefly experienced her absence,
The sheer gulf between us,
The one I had unwittingly forged,
Hit me since the moment I opened my eyes,
To the light of a new day.
I found the house strangely quiet,
No whisper of her laughter,
No sound of her girlish song
And despite the sun I felt the cold,
And the cloak of safety from her hands,
Had lifted off my wretched body.
How I howled my agony to the stars at night,
How I longed for days long perished,
How I wept at the coldly kindling,
Flames of the sun.
How I wanted to be enclosed in her,
Protective warmth.
How I wanted to be sheathed in her eternal love,
Her eager care.
How big and demonic the world seemed,
My friends turning into alarming foes,
The sun turning into a frozen icicle.
The streets I roamed a place of despair.
I ate as usual, but I still was starved,
I was still active, but I was also frozen in time.
My heart still beat, but I knew I was a ghost.
Furious was I at the laws of nature,
How happy was I when she returned,
How I praised her for all she had done.
For I knew, I knew deep down,
That I had loved her more than anyone else,
Even before I felt her touch.
For I knew it was my mother.
And when I felt the loneliness,
The dank chill, the forlorn sense of abandonment,
I knew that my life craved for her,
That without her—
I was nothing.
****
2. Poisoned Riders
She frothed and foamed,
Her surplus energy plenty.
Rising to the heavens,
Brewing terrors below,
She shoots down with
causeless fury.
Shaking the tiny toys-
Her tasty meat-
Lying on her surface.
Ripping holes,
Snaking quietly over the decks
With no sound save
Heart-freezing murmurs.
Slicing through,
Rocking the boat
In a death’s embrace.
She screams with mirth,
Voice wild with relish-
A terrible lullaby-
Before they fall
To their icy tomb.
So went by the days,
Which turned to eras,
Until she was
But a shadow of
Her untamed past,
Calm with wisdom,
And boiling hatred,
Choking with the poison
She unknowingly sipped
From the selfish palm
Of those who travelled her-
Those she let pass unscathed.
But at last her wrath
Was too great.
And she gathered some dregs of will,
Long forgotten but never lost-
Dying tentacles with a deadly grip-
Wormed over land,
Blind with revenge.
But all she could find
Was their skeletons
And all she could do
Was build their grave.
For it seemed revenge-
Was taken by themselves.
****
3. The Fabled Halls
There was once a land famed,
Where its halls were sung about
In awed fables.
And their streets were envisioned with
Frills of gold and silver.
And with people decked with garlands of
rubies, dresses of diamonds.
But once a lone man wandered their way,
His wise head filled with the fluff of
Embroidered lies.
He saw the streets reek with
Misery, lined against the proud
Aloofness of the rich.
And sentried by the starving poor.
He saw the gold-trimmed gowns wer
e
but fantasies spun by the deprived.
And that the diamond-studded towns
Were nothing but highlighted clusters
of poverty.
Once the old man spoke with a young boy,
who said that the fabled riches were
in the king’s paradise,
Long had he reigned
And expanded his wealth
with the poor’s sweat.
When asked how it was unpunished,
the boy replied-
‘That’s what happens when
justice- a needle- lets an elephant-
a representation of crime-
through its hole but manages to
snag its tail- who are but starving,
petty thieves.’
And so the man understood
The grand splendour of the
Fabled halls.
****
4. A Room With The View
Ecstatic was the minute I finally broke free-
Free from the walls; the walls that had bound me.
A honeyed drink was the air- pure and plenty,
A heavenly beacon was the sun- bright and proud.
For years I had wasted; wasted in the walls of my grave.
And had grovelled on the pitted concrete-
And fantasized about what was outside-
When the slithering yellow monsters set me free.
Outside the blood-stained walls that held me prisoner.
Fateful was the day when I finally found out.
They leapt and kissed the stubborn walls,
And lovingly shattered their bloodthirsty frames.
At last I was free- broken away from my isolation,
My skin writhed as the sun rays touched it,
A warm blessing to my translucent sheen.
My ears ached with all the noise, all the liveliness
And my eyes were blinded, blinded by the-
View outside.
For breathtaking was every leaf, every ant- every
Thing my eye embraced.
Everything from the view outside.
To time I was oblivious, of my past,
my memory faded as I looked at last, at last-
at the view outside.
****
5. Sapphire Among Rubies
In a savannah of red was a
Sapphire rock.
Its dull, dust-robed drabness
A strange pockmark in the
dried heat.
The radiant rubied sands
repelled the
Blue intruder-
A freak that didn’t belong among them.
It was tossed by the uncaring wind,
And shoved by the scarlet
sea of stone.
The sapphire bore the endless
Rejection; the automatic
abhorrence that reigned
when it quartered in the
crimson, unwelcoming land.
When at last it caught the eye
of a passing observer-
A shine-less anomaly alienated
from the rest.
It was picked and sliced-
And its core twinned the
Effulgent bloom of its
Ruby sisters.
****
6. If I was…
There was once an ancient city,
Which people have now forgotten,
And it has fallen into ruins and,
Is now just a pile of pillars rotten.
Blessed was the city,
Before it was conquered,
And great was the magic,
In which it was cloaked.
It is said, said in awed whispers,
That the land was ruled by a king,
A king tall and noble.
His eye was fire,
His heart stubborn rock,
His limbs healthy and strong,
His mind wise and fiery.
Once he arranged a contest,
A contest which had hundreds vexed,
And which was branded impossible,
And made the victors lose.
One day, a man old and rickety,
Said to the king,
That should he win the contest,
And should he defeat the Undefeatable,
He should be entitled to anything reasonable.
The king agreed and dismissed,
The thought of parting with,
Any of his kingly luxuries,
For convinced was he, that,
The man would only fail,
A mirror image of hundreds of other losers.
And watched the man in disbelief,
As he emerged victorious.
The old man smiled a wicked smile,
And placed his prize in the air,
And thousands heard his words vibrate,
Through the walls of the city bright.
“From this day hence,
I demand that every person in this city has
The liberty to become the ruler,
The ultimate ruler of all,
A day this leadership lasts,
In which they change and manipulate,
Each aspect of the city they choose.”
The first day, the farmer became the King.
“I’ll change the sun to a beacon eternally bright,
The rain a shower that frequently visits,
I’ll change the value of our produce,
To make sure we get money for
Every drop, every drop of sweat,
We shed.
I’ll change the way we wait,
At every hospital,
Our hearts drumming in anticipation,
Trying to come early,
To avoid that social status check-mate.
I’ll give the farmer an equal right,
To have his young educated,
And to get the same priority,
At every health service,
Disregarding their income rated.
Finally, I’ll make it an equal share for all the
Adults, all the young,
To share our produce,
And to live not famished.”
And so ended the wishes of the first King.
The second day, the soldier became the king,
“I’ll change the armour to
A suit of pride, a golden wing.
I’ll change the swords to,
Cruel talons,
And the cannons to,
Dragon’s breath.
I’ll reinforce the defences,
At the city wall,
And make sure everyone at work there,
Is entitled to proper sleep, and, of course,
Food.”
And so ended the wishes of the second King.
The third day a young boy became the King
His knees knobbly and his wide with fear.
“Everything must be equal.” he said, his voice
trying to compete with the cacophony
around him, “Then there won’t be any fights.
People, big, small, old, young,
will have their own rights.
Nobody will be superior to anyone.
No one will have reason to kill others,
to enslave them.”
There was a resounding silence as his words
Were absorbed.
The voice of contemplation.
For everyone knew that the
Young boy was
Right.
****
7. My Berry Bush
A crushing pain in the side of my head-
Consuming my heart, tearing my soul.
A blinding burden as heavy as lead-
A corrupting cancer, black as coal.
I let it grow-
A bush of berries-
Its seeds I let my anger sow,
Nurturing them with my worries,
My angst.
I
vent the livid plague out,
Into the fleshy heart of my fruit.
Reaching for the ultimate goal we had sought,
And lush with the anger that had kept me mute.
I let it build-
A slow trickle of hatred-
Until my mind, my soul and my heart were filled,
And until it made my life a blinded being it led.
When finally my vengeance reached its peak,
And the berries were ripe, ready to burst,
I released it all, the pressure which had never a leak,
And triumph was the emotion that hit me first.
I was the master, master of the universe,
And my burning anger had destroyed it all,
I paid back every jeer and every curse,
Till there was nothing left to reach its downfall,
But still I lingered,
An empty wreck, free of wrath,
A ghost haunting the world it had ruptured,
Full of regrets of my taken path.
As I wandered- a lonesome figure-
I came across a dried seed,
A void shell without my trigger,
And I repented the fruit I let impede,
My thoughts and feelings, my reason and life.
And at last I realized, on the broken ruins of the world destroyed,
That it was to my own heart
That I had aimed my knife,
That I was my foe, and my anger had exploded,
leaving me void.
****
8. They Are Sitting
They are sitting barren and empty,
Waiting for the opaque shield,
Which separates their consciousness
From their heart to fade.
They are sitting quiet and unthinking,
Their pain now a routine ritual-
A cold, sneering, perpetual desert.
Its savannah heat melting what
Remnants are lingering of their
Marooned soul.
They are sitting chilly and distant
Their brooding muses long shattered and
The broiling slivers of thought slowly
Abandoning them.
They are sitting lone and hopeful,
Their suffering quelled under
A foliage of crusted hardness,
Their dormant wisps of strength whispering
Through a dense cacophony of
Acceptance.
They are sitting more erect,
Their empty shell of life
Slowly spooned with emotions
Far astray.
Their agony now a background
Prick on their impenetrable sheen.
They are sitting aloof and straight
Their immune exterior an armour
Against their mildewed haunts.
Their wrecked archive of decapitated
Memories gluing a collage
Of their fall.
They are sitting wise and calm,
Their boundary of lessons
Cocooning their minds-
Their fence of foe-taught reminiscences
A constant protector against their foe.
****
9. Melting Crystals
The cauldron boils hot,
Crimson flames wreathing
Its rim.
Objects fall in relentless,