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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