By Syam Sudhakar
Murrel A monsoon afternoon. I was coming back home shouldering hunger and my bag. Beside the road the sun glimmered in the open drain and there bloomed a dream in a flash of lightning. Unfazed by the rain or sun with head high a slick arrow, alone in its trajectory darted with its tail against the current. Never had I seen such frenzied motions to claim a mate. No shooting star could outshine its charm. No warship could boast such feral grace. Swift and agile, gills throbbing with lust, a finger of the night dropped into the heart of noon, the rhythm of water, an ecstasy. I never encountered anyone like him, ever again. But after the rains, in the field I saw with a constellation of a thousand spawns a radiant she-murrel.
Syam Sudhakar is an award- winning and widely published young academician and bilingual poet from Kerala, writing both in native Malayalam and English. His poems are rich in native imagery and a sound pattern.
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