My Son

amidst the turbulence of foggy misgivings

my son was born.

with him came restlessness
with him came commotion
with him came clamor

he climbed the door frames with bare hands
he bounced football on the tv screen

my son wants to play out his mischief on the languid solitude of my books
my son wants to holler through the intense moments of my movies

now,
this summer,
when he is away,
i am uncertain if my books or movies are a better replacement for his shenanigans.

Thadiyan Rajesh

your mails led me down the lane
where memories wait for lazy hours.
the food, a game
marlboro cigarettes from jos junction
travels, talks, talks, talks....
my mother lost her health to regain her son's talks
talking is friendship

Adolf Hitler

On the night of his death,
trying to read the balance sheet of his life
on the faces of his people,
turning around,
shed a tear so dramatically,
he disappeared through the muzzle of his gun,
and was gone.