CHANDRAMOHAN S
1.Lynched God
Purged from the annals of history
vestiges being excavated of
fallen, broken, desecrated idols
entombed in violent memorials like Pokhran-II.
Tales of a great soul
lost in translation
from Pali to Sanskrit
scores of viharas
spiritually usurped
by vedic hymns.
Bullets from saffron terrorists
burned Bamiyans holes
in pages of medieval Indian history
tales of the vanquished race
erased from the fables agreed upon.
People of our race seek refuge,
in a lankan island,
like Chiang Kai Shek's defeated army in Taiwan.
He used to meditate in
three posters
Padmasana, Abhaya, bhumisparsa
but before lynching
he lined up to the guillotine in Pranama posture.
He descended down
into the collective conscience of a
a society as just one of the zillions of deities
without a capital first letter
India has become Brobdingnag for him,
the miniature Gulliver among saffron gods and goddesses.
In Malaysia
he occasionally gets his due
in a giant prostate deity
as giant Gulliver in the land of Lilliput.
His autobiography
diluted
divided
deviated
now sold as saffron history textbooks
twice born editor
refused to acknowledging the ghost writer.
First global Indian
almost has an NRI status now.
2.Beads around the bosoms
A chain of beads
around the bare breasts of our eves
a grim reminder
of lynching of our god
3.Love Letter from Dame- Anglo Saxon
I am
dame,
a
daughter of the white man,
have
no penis envy
a
symphony on the tongue of a universal man
for
all my suitors
I
open a window of opportunity
to
conquer the global village.
I
help you proclaim to the world
who
you are..
a
queer can “come out”,
my
nerve endings are named Sappho,Virginia Wolf
ignore
my white skin..
I am
not averse to the color purple
You
can discard the garment that ties both of your legs into one.
come
seduce me..
kiss
me..
Your
suppressed voices will sprout tongues!
I
have estuaries of streams
in
the delta of my Venus.
come
swim
through them
from
the margins to the mainstream.
I
love inter racial love making.
Come
Invade
my inner space
Broaden
your horizons
encrypt your stories
in
the breeze emanating from my tresses
You
can reclaim the center
that
holds
even
when “Things fall apart”(1)
in
the “Heart of darkness”(2)
You
can cast yourself anew
Shed
a tainted skin ,
drape
in a camouflage
and
be naked again..
1
Name of Chinua Achebe novel that tries to reclaim African sensibility from that
of an Eurocentric
one..
2 Joseph
Conrad's novel “The heart of darkness” which denigrates African humanity.
