Negotiable Instrument

I yearned to be born a piece of poetry

But as it usually happens,

I earned a life so prosaic and dull

Like that of a bank draft or a cheque.

He who made me, (surely not on demand)

Could have printed a nice piece of verse

Or could have

Daubed some colour on me,

Instead of filling those words and figures.

It was none of my fault that

I got the life of a negotiable instrument.

Yet they took pride in me.

I changed hands from bearer to bearer,

And was made to order

Which I could not bear (poor me)

Given a number and status was driven

From post to pillar;

Given a name and title

I was made to sit behind tables and counters

And made cages and chambers.

They stamped my face

Endorsed my background

And lived in princely pomp

At my expense.

But I kept my grin in tact

Even when I became a prey to

Bargain, assessment, criticism and dispute.

When I fell a victim to ridicule and laughter

Nobody cared for me.

Those who used to look at my face

With gleam in their eyes

Turned their faces away in despise

Seeing what has become of me –

‘A defaced cheque’

And finally

They threw me over the counter

With ALL THEIR STAMPS CANCELLED.  

23.11.1997

Kanai Kunhiraman has two wonderful creations, a Yakshi in the north among mountains and palms, and a Mermaid in the south on seashore. Both are legends in concrete complementing each other, and together a mega tribute to their creator – Kanai.

Gone are the days of frolicking mermaids

Gone are the days of stalking vampires

Gone are their desires haunting starry nights.

Kanai

No marines abducted me, a submarine being

No Medusa lithified me, a reclining splendor.

Yet I lie on the sandy beach, as miniatures pass by.

While I bask in the beach, in shifting sands and gazes

My sister squats far north, gazing the palm-land skies.

While cement makes our forms

Black magic forms our souls

Legends and myths give us life

As we lie or squat on this earth.

We rise above elements all

High above humans all

Filling spaces above all

Diverting nasty glances off.

To make landscape of a woman

Or, to make woman a landscape

You have to be a mermaid – shored

Or, a yakshi fallen off a palm tree.

 To adorn this crowded sandy beach

Leaving behind teeming depths

I left my emerald castle and mates

In the deep sea coral rocks.

Bathed in eerie floral fragrance

Yakshi stalked the moon lit nights

Preyed on tender human hearts:

But left the dark wooded hills

To guard the dam and garden

When Kanai’s heart beckoned

We had, and we were

Centuries of wanton desires

And centuries of stories

In the old fabled tradition:

Lend your ears and mind

To the soft lull of little waves

To the whispering lips of breeze

To the heady winds of ghats

Crooning our golden stories soft.

No more have we any place

To dwell in awesome mystery.

As the world keep shrinking,

As the earth gets denuded,

As the nights get neon lit,

As the oceans get explored,

As the seas get polluted,

As the minds get jet set,

As the fables get old age homes,

As the tales seek internet

As the fairies lose their charm,

As the vampires die young,

Where can yakshis perch?

Where can mermaids hide?

Hence, I am shored, she landed

For you to behold and say-

Yonder lies a myth, a legend

A fossil of old fairy tales

A piece of mystery – frozen

For you to touch and exclaim,

Akin the dinos of Jurassic age.

No pedestal, no canopy

No garlands, no wreaths

No candles, no demonstration

No prayers, no bird droppings

Thanks to Kanai, our Pygmalion.

We lie, sit and gesticulate

Under the open heavens

Caressed by winds and rains

With our frozen grin and grimace