Free Fall

I like my body to be loved
touched, stroked and desired.
I am a woman who lives to fulfil
her nerve-end longings.
I paint these days
splashes of colour:
a lone fish
three women in brown.

My home is an embryo
faceless feet roam restlessly above and below.
My husband is busy climbing
his way up to loneliness.
The mail box gushes junk mail and family pleas.
My children are ferns in pots.
They demand little from me
opening fists into my face.

Sometimes I dream
and dream some more:
I splash in a rock pool
Breathe beneath water
discover coral gardens and secret caves
take a merman lover
go underwater
live life, free fall.

Anita Nair, from Malabar Mind

I Want

I want to sit beside you in a rowdy dingy pub
Legs dangling, shoulders jostling, knees touching
I want your breath to drain the sweat off my brow
And for you to lick the bitterness off my lips
I want your eyes to seek mine
I want to hear the hushed lust in your voice amidst the noise.

I want to sit beside you in a dark balcony
Where yesterday’s washing doesn’t flap its crackling wings
I want us to hear the night call
Watch shadows play ball and time creep up a celestial wall
I want your fingers to unerringly seek mine
I want to exist as more than a mere habit.

Anita Nair from Malabar Mind

Malabar Mind

In his eyes, the lunatic gleam.
“Ta ta Madras, ta ta fiends of hell
Keep your lady politicians and diseased flies.”
The Malabar mail wheezes and chuckles,
Look at this girl, the lunatic stares,
Her curves are ripe melons
Pardon me, I know not what I think,
May I touch your feet?
Please
My madness will vanish
With the soft breeze.
Let me go, I am not mad
Only deprived
Why did I leave the emerald cave?

The River Nila
Sand banks rising yellow and gritty
Once flourished triangular hate
The cow worshippers, the pig haters
And the sunshine-haired cow eaters.
No one knows how it came about.
A thousand men piled into a carriage
Trundled and truckled, gasping for life.
When they opened the doors,
The stench, they say
Made people gag a mile away.
In Malabar, they cannot forget,
Sometimes the soft breeze smells of blood.

The Zamorin saw his face
On a piece of glass
Opened doors to colonial greed.
We have so much pepper,
So many spices.
Give it to them for mirrors
Should man live a stranger to his face?
Our men now sail the seas
Across the bay to the desert Hope
In the backwaters, women sail
Lonely rafts, spinning coir, weaving dreams.

Zubeida, creature of the grimy hovel
Queen now of a green mansion
Fish juices trickle down her chin every day
Is there more to life?  She asks.
Geeta has her husband’s voice on tape
The children listen to it now and then
Venu, distant cousin
Loves her on Wednesdays and Fridays
Satiating lust and a need to be held
He caresses her skin.
She licks his eyes and wills him
To take her in rhythmic ecstasy
It is only till ‘he’ comes home,
She tells God.

Malibar
Manibar
Mulibar
Munibar
Malibar
Melibar
Minibar
Milibar
Minubar
Melibaria
Malabria*
Where the rain hisses
Echoes of a thousand footsteps.
Each seeking to measure the girth of wetness.
Eaves drip countless forsaken thoughts
Tiles splay revealing parted rafter thighs.

Politics is a way of life
Belong to a party
For an identity
The Congress or the RSS
The Muslim League or the Communists.
There is still about life here
A quiet air of restfulness.
Nayadi knee deep in slush
Tractors and buffaloes his companions.
Together they watch time amble by.
How can man be content
When he knows his rights?
Militants dress in school teacher guises.
The forest hides disenchanted hearts
Madness threatens to erupt at any time.

Lying in the limpid green pool
Mouth open to catch the first dew drop.
Grandfather’s concubine died yesterday.
Who will light his lantern at night? I wonder.
Father came back from roaming the plains,
Built a home and settled his books.
Mother likes to think of nothing.
The emerald cave has a soothing clutch.
The devil bird weeps: Poo-ah, Poo-ah.
I kiss my elephant hair talisman.
Coconut palms rustle their fingers.
Courage and the soft breeze
Will cure madness, they say.

Malabar was once a British district.  After Independence, Malabar as a district was no longer recognized and the region was divided to form the northern part of what is today called Kerala.  Though Malabar has no geographical boundaries, no presence on the map of India, it still exists as a state of mind.
*From A.D. 522 to the eleventh or twelfth century, Malabar was also called these names.

Anita Nair from Malabar Mind

You Said, I Agreed

Let us be friends, you said
Let us be friends, I agreed.

Let there be nothing more, you said.
Let there be nothing more, I agreed.

I made no declarations, no promises, you said
You made no declarations, no promises, I agreed.

It was a minor aberration, a detour, you said.
It was a minor aberration, a detour, I agreed.

It isn’t as if I did anything, you said
It isn’t as if anything happened, I agreed.

We came out of it with dignity, you said.
We came out of it with dignity, I agreed.

Anita Nair from Malabar Mind