THOSE LOST ON THE WAY, ON THE LAST DAY

This day is miserably brimming with
the tales of lambs that have been lost on the way.

This Radio* is broadcasting the Programme which still keeps searching
for those who had lost their way.
Every mother laments in that Programme wailing
“Oh, how did you slip through my grip and fell off?...”
From that last day till date
your Mother** is searching for you**.
The shirt I have, in your memory,
How can that be advertised in any journal?
And, another page of an other journal keeps on writing
about the tales of those frozen bodies of those
who had been lost along the way
just the way the photographs had been lost.

Another journal keeps enquiring after those lost,
with so full of letters…
Bringing letters filled with words of great sorrow
each week keeps arriving

All these letters read just hope that they would all return.
How would have been the cry of the child that had slipped and fallen
turned silent?
How would have been the night of the little girl
slipped from the grip and disappeared once and for all?
How would have been the path of the lad who had been lost all alone?
What would be the pain of the mother who has lost her children?
What would be the direction of the wife separated from her husband?
How would be the anguish of those forced apart from their brothers?

The letters loaded with the sorrow of those who have been
separated from all near and dear ones
keep swelling and weighing the density of Separation.
With questions that have no answers
the night lies there completely shattered.

The wait and the hope that they would return keep growing.
With the paths where they had been lost shutting down
the letters that underline the lasting separation dumped deep down
and the sand is poured upon and spread even.
Unable to disclose that none has returned
the Night Programme of Radio melts into a close.
And, for a letter written by someone lost
filled with words of hope and happiness
Your Mother keeps on waiting…

______________________________
09.12.௨00௯ * SURIYAN F.M, ** Gajaanandh’s Mother, *** Gajanandh, *** Sudaroli Weekly**** Mithran Weekly

A Poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil
titled IRUDHI NAAL VAZHIYIL THOLAINDH POENAVARGAL
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

THE DECLARATION OF WAR PURSUING THE YEAR

All the years
scatter just the empty nights alone.
Just like the yester year when I didn’t meet you
nor shared anything with you
this year is
lying in wait to come at midnight
and wake me up.

On the day when it was declared in advance that
War would destroy our village
and bring our dream to an end
all that have been captured so far
are going to be displayed.

In the space where You and I are
so easily ignored
and where War is drawing near,
stands writhing in pain
Our house sans celebration.

You , Our Words
and all the Spaces where we are to be
sharing them in joyous togetherness.
are being devovoured by a creeping serpentine
all too quietly.
The year is pursued in a hot chase
by the Declaration of War with further wanderings and displacements.
_____________________
14.04.2009
(This poem is for recollecting the yester year)

A Poem of Deebachelvan in Tamil
titled வருடத்தை தொடருகிற போரின் பிரகடனம்
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

THE SECOND DIOLOGUE ON THE STORY OF ‘APPAM’

You would always be reminding and recollecting the first dialogue.
On that semi-wall where cigarette pieces would be
neatly piled up in one corner
we had ever and again conversed
umpteen number of times.
Each night had in the end
made us converse with each other.
Your leg which would be carrying the Appams
and the evening when the flour for that would be ground
we have indeed lost.
as a result of the War we have lost our very lives.

In the stream that stands next to the tea-shop where we used to smoke
rows after rows stand the sediment of ash.
In our city which had developed by leaps and bounds
we used to go wandering
relishing bear.
When holding our glasses aloft
We used to sit there and share our experiences of selling the edibles
our city was glowing in
an enchanting light.
We have toiled for our city.
We have held it close to our heart.
When we used to sit behind those shops
deep in conversation
when we were hiding there
fearing the terrible air-crafts
You were close by my side.

My dear Friend, we had always been those
getting a good thrashing for the sake of cigarettes.
Just like all other things
now, our beautiful city is not there
for you to shout and sell the edibles;
nor your tasty Appams
and the cigarettes;
nor the evening hours when you would be
grinding the flour.
But, as the mega dialogue of our intimacy,
the cigarette infinite
you keep simmering inside .
In that debris of the semi-wall what have the cigarette –pieces turned to?
The War has destroyed everything.
Oh, we should not have lost you.
With you we have lost everything.

When it is said that your dead body, lying abandoned
had been identified by somebody
your second course of dialogue about Appam
begins all alone and
goes on and on and on…
Where did you get lost?

I wont be returning to the all too shattered city.
Will there be someone calling out and selling ‘Appam’?
Who at all would be waiting to buy them?
Every cigarette I light keep
burning for you.
The cup filled with liquor for you
is always there in front of me
____________________
08.09.2009. That, my very close friend SriGajanath, who was my dearest pal, one who was closer than all the others hailing from the city of Kilinochi had caught in the vicious attack of the final battle and breathed his last and that they had seen his corpse they say. Even after searching all the Detention camps it was not found anywhere.

A Poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil
titled APPATHIN KADHAI PATTRIYA IRANDAAVADHU URAIYAADAL
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

THE MONUMENT WHERE DREAM HAD SPROUTED

They have fortressed the Monument with terror
not allowing anyone to approach it
the Mothers who have buried their children
keep saying that in those burial-grounds
dreams keep surfacing, being pushed out.

All the Mothers pay their homage
To the Monument Tower
Where Souls reside.

The Monument of immensely terrible hunger
with Dreams sprouted
was shockingly damaged on a night.
Who destroyed it?
Oh, why?
In that night which still remains a mystery
the anguish and sorrow of Dream overflows.

On that very same night when those men
stealthily coming
had dragged away the children
this Monument had been damaged.
When that child, searching for its parents
cried in agony unbearable
the lap that cradled his dreams
was cruelly attacked and destroyed.

Who at all could forget the face
filled with the great grand hunger of Dream
In our cups full of hunger the torn flesh, broken bones
and clothes of our children alone
come to be.

To say that we are being killed again and again
there are absolutely no other words.
In the city where the children dread
the prospect of coming out, stepping into the street
in the bones, broken to pieces and thrown away
the fear-filled blood of the kids is wide-spread.

Destroying a dream
and strangulating a child
cause the same unbearable sorrow.
The Mothers come and see
The hunger of Dhileepan burning in the heart still.

_________________
A Poem in Tamil by Deebachelvan titled

KANAVU ARUMBIYIRUNDHA NINAIVIDAM

Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

THE SAND WHERE WORDS TURN DECOMPOSED

I am listening
Please speak
As it proves impossible to share
the way Sorrow keeps pouring and overflowing
in the woods with no words
I swallow the words that keep breaking into two
and turning decomposed.
Don’t mind me.
Keep telling about yourself
In the Woods sans words
My ears get filled up with sand.

Except the noise
of shells falling down
planes roaring above
gun-shots going on everywhere-
Absolutely no other sound at all.
Your phone-call.
The sand-dam surfaces.

Except being alive
there is nothing else.
Even the life reduced to half
the words getting decomposed come
one by one.
Except one or two words of yours
being scattered by shells
I have got nothing.
The sandy floor begins to burn.

In the conversation that hangs suspended midway
The fear for your safety resurfaces
From the moment you had disconnected
I keep waiting for your words
after the terrible battle.

The hollow sand opens its mouth all too wide.
How long I would be swallowing
my words being decomposed,
hiding myself from you?
The phone remains there weighing heavy.
The sand stirs up and blows.
__________________
(May 2009)

A poem in Tamil from Deebachelvan titled
SORKALL SIDHAIGIRA MANAL
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

THE IDENTIFICATION NUMBER

In a solitary island they have confined you.
The Identification Number stamped on the back
remains stuck on the thorny fence.
The watch-towers atop the trees
are going past myself.
In the spaces where the wind keeps wandering
endless vacuum keeps swelling.
In the house built of thorny-wires
the cock writhes and moans.
With the sky melting and filling up the rice-pot
You stir up the Hope of
living for the sake of children.
Of those streets and lanes that you know not
I won’t be saying anything.
Time is going past us all too hurriedly.

The thorny-fence is worn round
the child’s person, as attire..
While I was coming through the green fields
the usual shrieks of unbearable torture could be heard.
Many a penis and vagina keep floating
in the Sea-Lake
The watch-towers have thronged the old bridge,
devovouring it.

Caught between Night and Day
You are crushed and torn apart.
The Identity-Card is hanging in my neck.
In the relief-food that has come after a long time
You calculate the Modern Economy.
In the house with no walls wherein dust enters
The colonial cities
are coming and installing themselves.
Words are there still.
You leave without saying something.
Your words are piled up in the emptied cartridges
of the shells that have dumped us here in a heap
are neatly kept in rows.
The poem that you are unable to write -
Please read it to me.
Words keep pouring down behind.

When the time allotted for me gets over
the noise of the cock comes to be.
Now I recollect once again
The Identification Number of Yours.
_____________
(May 2009 )

A Poem in Tamil by Deebachelvan titled
MUTKAMBIGALIL PADIGIRA ADAIYAALA ILAKKAM
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan