Showing posts from October, 2011

Analysing the cover of The God Of Small Things

I have wondered about it quite a bit and each time got lost in the beauty of the cover...I don't associate it with anything negative like death...though I agree with Hope..the lotus flower is one of the eight auspicious symbols or 'ashtamangala' in Tibetan Buddhism in which it represents purity of body, speech, and mind, floating above the muddy waters of attachment and desire; represents the full blossoming of wholesome deeds in blissful liberation. The flower, as you know, blooms out of dirt and mud; so the allusion could be the pure love of Ammu and Velutha blossoming out of the dirt of caste system and untouchability. The plant also has leaves which repel water, which could symbolise the same thing - their love repelling the dirty waters polluted by the likes of Baby Kochamma and her family members. I personally liked to fancy the lotus as Velutha himself - the beautiful man with a "dirty" background...the man with "a leaf on his back, who made the monso…

Describing a tree to a blind man (using the 5 senses)

It’s a beautiful day and I can’t see But today I wish to know a tree. I walked barefoot, As he led me by my hand To nature’s lap, Which he called magic land. A sudden roughness I felt, as I touched, Jagged edges that seemed quite much. “The bark”, he said, was the name, “The colour of your eyes looks much the same.” Alarmed I was, to hear a sudden “knock-knock”, The woodpecker, he said, was building a home in the block. Made to reach out and feel something round, Mango – the fruit was what I found. The smell was different, when I put it to my nose Not like burnt paper; neither the fragrance of a rose. He asked me to bite, and it was then, A juicy nectar transported me to heaven… So today it was the mango-tree That he helped me to feel, to taste, touch and see.

His Eyes

(Poem in hundred words comprising of only monosyllables)

His eyes are black As black as night They give a light That lights my life. Long of lash, Thick of brow I saw them then, I see them now. When he sets them on me, I smile in glee I feel the blood in me rush, And my cheeks start to blush. I so wish to stand and stare, I try to peep from my hair But I feel so shy, Don’t know why. I so wish to lock eyes with him; But guts I lack, and it stays a whim. His eyes it is that I am drawn to, Get close to them, I do want to. His eyes which are black As black as the night They give a light That lights my life.